When the women in your family are gone, how do you learn how to cook?
A recipe for sini manti (Armenian baked lamb dumplings)
Welcome back to another instalment of Pasta Sunday, and this week we are cooking up something a little different: manti, an Armenian dumpling/baked pasta that is held very fondly in the hearts of many, including myself.
I am also sharing a photographic guide which breaks down how to shape this unusual pasta, a suggested wine pairing, and a very 00s playlist to provide the perfect Sunday soundtrack.
Read on for more!
no.25
Sini Manti (Armenian Baked Lamb Dumplings)
As someone who comes from a mixed background where one culture is arguably more dominant than the other (Armenian/Anglo), my idea and adoption of culture is complicated and with imbalance. For example, when I think of food that represents my family, I automatically associate with Armenian and Cypriot/Greek dishes - what my dad would cook at home in London, and all of the meals my grandma and family would make when we were visiting in Cyprus. That’s not to say that I don’t connect with the dishes my mum would make - like her chicken casserole or occasional meatloaf - but they don’t hold the same sense of cultural identity for me.
My grandma was well known in our family to be an excellent cook. Emma - her name - was always in the kitchen, often sat at the kitchen table peeling vegetables with the largest possible knife she could have used, stuffing marrow for dolma, or preparing the meat mixture for lahmajoun. She was focused, and methodical. I used to sit beside her and help with simple tasks, but mostly I’d just watch in awe, trying to learn through observation.
When she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s it wasn’t long before she lost all ability to communicate. It was aggressive and fast moving, and I was 12 when any possibility of learning from her in the kitchen - or otherwise - was no longer viable. When traditionally women are the cooks in the family, and recipes are passed from one matriarch to another, how do you learn how to cook when there are no women left to learn from?
This has been a challenge for me throughout my life. I’ve spent years going through spells of deep fascination, trying to learn everything I can about the dishes that I connect with through memory, researching heavily and relying on taste (and very cryptic conversations with my dad) to piece together the way my grandma might have made something.
But even this brings up complicated feelings. Even if it tastes the way I remember, and brings me a strong sense of nostalgia, I can’t help but feel like a bit of a fraud - almost like I don’t belong or deserve to associate on a cultural level. While I appreciate this might be perceived as dramatic, or that I hold a warped point of view, I can’t help but feel that learning directly from the women and gatekeepers of family recipes is like a certificate of authenticity that I just don’t have.
But I persevere! Determined to learn, determined to remember and forge that sense of connection that I often find myself longing for. Especially in absence of proximity to Cyprus, my dad and family, making and eating our food has become a source of comfort. And these manti are no exception.
Manti are popular throughout the South Caucasus and Central Asia, most notably in Armenia and Turkey. There are many different variations of manti, and the ones here are the baked variety, resembling little canoes with the filling open at the top. I make these with lamb, but beef is also a popular choice.
There are a few individual components that need to be prepared for this dish; pasta dough, filling, a rich lamb broth, and a yoghurt sauce to serve. The greatest barrier to entry with manti - in my opinion - is the complicated instructions. Perhaps because I have been so focused on pasta for some time now, the process of manti feels straightforward to me, so I have tried to present this as simply as possible.
This recipe is a perfect example of the manifestation of my research when it comes to traditional Armenian dishes, and I have to give thanks in particular to this book by Aline Kamakian, which has been a guide and central reference for me of late.
I will give you fair warning here, be prepared to spend a few hours from start to finish on this dish, but it is worth every second of enjoyment, which coincidently is about as long as it takes to devour.
I hope you enjoy this recipe, and if you’d like to see more of this kind of thing, let me know!
Serves 4 - makes roughly 120 manti
Ingredients
Lamb broth
2 lamb shanks (roughly 900g)
2 litres chicken stock
140g tomato paste/puree
3 tsp salt
5-6 garlic cloves, slightly crushed
Dough
300g tipo 00
1 egg yolk (15g)
162ml water
15ml olive oil
Total liquid weight 192ml = 64% hydration
Filling
1 small onion
10g parsley leaves and stalks (about 3 sprigs)
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp seven spice (see note below)
1 tsp Aleppo pepper (if you can’t find this, you can substitute for paprika)
Black pepper
300g lamb mince
Yoghurt sauce
1 cup Greek yoghurt
1/4 cup water
1-3 garlic cloves, depending on your preference
Extras for cooking and serving
neutral oil to grease the baking dish
a few small cubes of butter for baking
Aleppo pepper, or sumac to serve
A note on seven spice:
This is a typical seasoning used throughout the Middle East, often sold as Baharat spice mix (which actually includes an addition spice AFAIK).
If you want to make this yourself, I simply mix equal measures of the following ground spices:
cloves
coriander
cumin
black pepper
nutmeg
cinnamon
all spice
Method
Start with the lamb broth and dough -
Lamb broth
Add all of the ingredients to a large pot and bring to a boil.
Reduce to a simmer, cover and cook for 3 hours or until lamb is just falling off the bone.
Strain liquid and keep warm.
Shred lamb meat and reserve for serving.
Dough
Place the flour in a mound on your work surface and make a well in the centre. Pour the egg yolk, water and oil into the well and using a fork, slowly begin to whisk until the yolk and water are combined.
Start incorporating a little bit of flour at a time, whisking vigorously until you have a thick custard-like consistency.
Switch to a bench scraper, starting in front of you scoop up some flour from the outer edge and flip it over the centre. Use a chopping motion to cut the flour into the eggs. Repeat, moving around all sides of the flour.
Once you have a shaggy dough, use your hands to press into a ball. It might be a bit crumbly at first but keep going, and once you can see and feel a ball form starting to take shape, it’s time to knead.
After 5 minutes of kneading, cover the dough in something airtight and let it rest for 5-10 minutes. This will allow the dough to rehydrate and the gluten relax.
Return to the dough and continue kneading for another 5-7 minutes. The dough should be smooth and elastic, and not sticky at all.
Cover the dough again and let it rest for a minimum of 30 minutes at room temperature before rolling and shaping.
While the dough is resting, make the filling and yoghurt sauce -
Filling
Add the onion, parsley and spices to a blender and blitz until the onion is finely chopped.
Add the lamb mince and pulse continuously until the lamb is broken down and mixed evenly with the onion.
Avoid over processing the lamb mixture.
Refrigerate until ready to use.
Yoghurt sauce
Combine the yoghurt, water and minced garlic and whisk well to combine.
Refrigerate until ready to serve.
Assembly
Start by greasing a large baking dish with a little bit of neutral oil. (NB: this recipe should make enough manti to fill two 28cm round dishes) that you can bake at the same time or in batches).
Divide the dough into four pieces. Work with one at a time - flatten the piece with your hand or a rolling pin before passing it through the thickest setting on your pasta machine. Fold the edges in to create a neat rectangle that fits the width of your pasta machine, and run it through the thickest setting again until your dough is uniform in shape.
Continue passing your dough through the machine, working through each thickness setting until setting 5 on a Marcato Atlas.
Cut the pasta sheet into two or three pieces so it’s easier to work with, then cut the sheet into 3x3cm squares. Roll the scraps back into a ball ready and keep covered with the rest of the unused dough.
Place a 1/4 tsp of the lamb mince filling in the centre of each square, leaving around 1cm around the edges.
Pinch two sides of each square to form the shape, leaving the filling exposed on the top.
Use a finger to press the filling down to be flush with the pasta.
Arrange the each manti in the prepared baking dish, in a circular pattern if you are using a round dish, or just side by side if using a rectangular dish.
Add a few small cubes of butter on top of the manti ready for the oven.
Cooking and finishing touches
Preheat the oven to 180c (160c FAN/350f)
Bake the manti in the centre of the oven for 30 minutes or until the pasta has started to brown in places.
Remove the dish from the oven and add a ladle of the strained lamb broth. Place the dish back in the oven and continue to bake for another 10-15 minutes, or until some of the broth has been absorbed by the manti.
To serve, divide the reserved shredded lamb meat between dishes and add a ladle or two of hot broth.
Add the manti (about 15-20 pp) to the broth, and serve with a couple of spoonfuls of the yoghurt sauce and a sprinkling of Aleppo pepper.
If you’re interested in learning a little more about this shape with a step by step photographic guide, today’s suggested wine pairing and a Sunday playlist, then why not consider becoming a paid subscriber and help keep Pasta Sunday going - thank you ❤️
Manti step-by-step
I have read many manti recipe over the years and one thing they all have in common is what seems to me, an overly complicated and confusing description on how to roll and shapes these. My method described below is hopefully, a lot more straightforward!
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