Tacked to my desk is an old Saveur magazine clipping about salep ice cream. In it is a reference to a Turkish newspaper's suggestion that this regional frozen treat - made malleable by ground orchid root and eaten throughout parts of Iran and the Levant in addition to Turkey - is the reason why Baskin Robbins did not thrive in countries where salep (or sahlab) is readily available. In a similar vein, I'd glance dismissively at Dunkin Donuts Munchkins and Krispy Kreme doughnut holes if I were ever fortunate enough to have a steady supply of warm luqaimat at my fingertips. Luqaimat (or as we pronounce them in my family, "l'gaymat") may just be the gateway Emirati dish. Crisp, toasted dark, and dripping with date molasses or amber honey, they are often mounded on a platter like a collapsed tower of caramelised croquembouche.
Though distinctive, luqaimat are little more than orbs of fried dough. They carry the glorified badge of fat, starch and sugar that allows them to be compared to everything from New Orleanian beignets to their close French relative, bugnes, Italian zeppole, German spritzkuchen, Portuguese malasade and American state fair classics such as funnel cake and frybread. Turkish delight, known as lokum in Turkish, is thought to have been derived from the same root as luqaimat, which is the plural of luqma, meaning morsel in Arabic. The former professor Dr Mohamed Elhashemy is the creator of the Luqaimat Diet (www.satietyspot.com), which isn't nearly as seductive as it might sound to one whose only association with the word "luqaimat" involves images of warm fried dough and sticky fingers. The diet's slogan, "eat the least to lose the most", is almost alarmingly literal, and Elhashemy advocates a method of weight loss by merely eating as little as is comfortably tolerable. He calls it it "a form of portion control based on volume". This bizarre exploitation of one of the most obvious biological facts - that starvation leads to weight loss - leaves me with no small amount of bemusement.
There are as many varied and wonderful recipes for luqaimat as there are for pancakes, scones and sourdough bread. Both beignets and luqaimat can be made with yeast pastry. Some call for eggs and others for corn flour or yogurt. As my sweet tooth has been placated over the years, I've found some luqaimat obnoxiously cloying. When I decided to increase my protein intake several years ago, I began thinking of desserts naturally high in protein and relatively low in sugar that might take the place of some delicious but nutritionally vacuous sweets that crowd our tables, particularly during Ramadan. Hence, allow me to present the ricotta fritter.
Though I'd never turn down a warm luqma, I love these just as much. And though I had come close to achieving fritter nirvana in my kitchen-bound alchemy, I think that this slight adaptation of a recipe by the chef and former food editor Lillian Chou, published last year in Gourmet, really nails it. Ricotta Fritters 3/4 cup all-purpose flour 2 teaspoons baking powder 1 cup whole-milk ricotta; drain off any excess moisture
2 large eggs, lightly beaten 2 tablespoons sugar 1 teaspoon grated lemon zest 1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract Large pinch of salt Vegetable oil for frying Confectioners sugar for dusting Preparation Heat two inches (5cm) of oil in a large heavy saucepan, wok, or French oven over medium-high heat until hot but not smoking- about 375°F (190°C). Whisk ricotta with the sugar, eggs and vanilla. In another bowl, mix flour, baking powder, zest, and salt. Whisk the dry mixture into the wet mixture. Working in batches of three at a time, drop rounded tablespoonfuls of batter into the hot oil and fry, turning occasionally with a slotted spoon, until deep golden, which will take about four minutes. Keep a close eye on the fritters, and when they look done, transfer them to paper towels to drain. Serve at once with a light sprinkling of powdered sugar. Serve plain (my preference) or with honey, maple syrup, fudge sauce, quince syrup or your favourite preserves.
