Ode to the Grape Leaf

Growing up an American-Armenian in the 1950s and ’60s had its ups and downs.

On one hand, I always felt special, having two sets of friends. American schoolmates and Armenian church friends. These two groups never mingled.

On the other hand, it was frustrating when friends and teachers had trouble pronouncing our last name, and downright exhausting when having to explain repeatedly what an Armenian is.

When the topic of “What did you have for dinner last night?” came up on the school playground, my American peers would beam about their Velveeta cheese and tuna casserole, or Chef Boyardee canned ravioli dinners.

I would say, “We had pilaf, chicken and salad.” They’d ask, “Pilaf? What’s that?” I’d explain the best I could for an 8-year-old. When I accidentally mentioned eating stuffed grape leaves, you’d think I told my friends that I’d eaten a jar full of worms!

“Ewwww, that’s disgusting!” they’d say. I hesitated to discuss food with them after that.

At first their comments upset me. Then I realized that was foolish, because the food we ate at home was delicious, no matter what it was called or what anyone else thought.

Grape leaves are an important part of Armenian cuisine. Whether purchased in jars, or picked straight off the vine, grape leaves are the essential wrapping for our sarma, yalanchi, and yaprakh.

Tom Merjanian, a frequent reader and occasional contributor of our website, would prefer we call our food by their Armenian names. He stated:

Sarma? Oh, No! PATTOTZ! Pattel is “to wrap.” The suffix “otz” indicates the place in which something occurs.

My family was fortunate to have had our own lush grape arbor in our back yard. My grandmother, Yeranuhe Vartanesian, knew exactly when the leaves should be picked — late May or early June. It was a back-breaking job, especially when the arbor grew too tall; that’s when reinforcements were called in.

Leaves were picked by the hundreds and inspected. Next came the preparation: Wash, stack, roll, tie together, boil briefly in salted water, remove from water, cool. The leaf bundles were packed tightly in sterilized jars; more boiling water was poured in to cover the bundles, then the jars were sealed.

The process was tiring, but it meant that we could look forward to Yeranuhe Nanny’s delicious sarma throughout the year. Confession: When Nanny brought her sarma to our home, I would volunteer to carry the platter inside for her so I could eat a few without being caught!

Before there were bottled grape leaves, the members of the Women’s Guild from St. Leon Armenian Church (formerly in Paterson; currently in Fair Lawn, New Jersey) would band together in late May or early June, combing the Paramus countryside for grape leaves growing wild by the roadside. (This was before major highways and shopping malls!) Family friend Margaret Nakashian-Jerrahian recalls being the driver. She was young, energetic, and had access to an automobile.

As Margaret drove, the older women would squint, focusing eagle-eyed on their prize. As soon as a field of grape vines came into view, someone would shout, “Stop!”

The ladies, dressed in long sleeves to protect themselves from poison ivy, would scurry through the field, picking leaves, gathering them in their aprons, baskets, or whatever they had, filling them to the brim. Then they would head back to the Nakashian home where they would begin the brining process in the basement kitchen.

Oh, how we take grape leaves for granted today!

At our table, grape leaves served another function. When Nanny made her sarma gurgood (tabbouleh, eech), we would sometimes place a spoonful of it into a tender grape leaf, roll it up, and eat. This was decades before restaurants thought of placing the trendy “lettuce wraps” on their menus.

(Footnote from Doug: Grape leaves, along with dolma shells and soft lavash bread, are delightful anachronisms from the days when Armenians ate with their hands and needed something to hold onto.)

But now that Nanny and her vine-hunting companions are gone, we’re at the mercy of commercial jar stuffers, who aren’t as discriminating.

A tough, thick-veined leaf is about as much fun to chew as a napkin, so I sometimes cheat and make the stuffing alone, formed into balls and cooked in the same broth. It’s faster and it’s much less work — but I can’t say I don’t miss the earthy flavor and gentle bite of a good leaf!

Yeranuhe Nanny’s Stuffed Grape Leaves

(Served cold or at room temperature)
Yield: approximately 50 pieces

Ingredients

Grape leaves, fresh or 1 (16-oz.) jar

Filling

3 lbs. finely chopped onions
½ cup olive oil
1½ c. uncooked rice (Uncle Ben’s works well; do not use instant rice!)
1/2 c. tomato paste, diluted in a little water
1 tbsp. red pepper paste
Dash of salt
Dash each of allspice, cumin, paprika, or to taste
½ bunch chopped parsley
juice of one lemon

Directions

Grape Leaves

1. If using fresh grape leaves, place them in boiling water for about 5 minutes or until soft. Remove stems. If using bottled grape leaves, soak them in cool water for a few minutes, and remove stems. (Soaking bottled leaves helps to reduce some of the salt from the brine it is packed in.)
2. Pat the excess water off each leaf. Set leaves aside.

Filling

1. Saute the onions in the oil until slightly tender. Stir in the rice & cook 10 min.
2. Combine all of the other filling ingredients with the onions & rice. Cook another minute or two. Remove from heat. Let cool.
3. Lay one grape leaf on a flat work surface, shiny side down.
4. Place about one or two tablespoons of the filling near the stem-end of the leaf. The filling amount will depend on the size of the leaf. Start rolling the leaf from the stem end upward (away from you), then fold each side of the leaf over the filling, and continue to roll upward. Fold firmly so the leaf won’t unravel during cooking. (NOTE: Don’t roll too tightly, however, because the rice will expand and the leaf could burst during cooking.)
5. Line the bottom of the pot with some torn grape leaves, or lettuce leaves. (This is a trick my grandmother shared with me. It prevents the stuffed grape leaves from sticking to the bottom of the pot.)
6. Place rolled leaves in a large pot on top of the lettuce leaves. Sprinkle with a little oil & salt.
7. Add enough hot water to cover the rolled leaves. Place a dish on top of the grape leaves to keep them in place. You might want to add another weight, such as a small pot filled with water, on top of the dish. This keeps the grape leaves submerged for even cooking.
8. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low and cook for 30-40 minutes until the rice is tender.
9. Remove from pot; chill; serve with lemon wedges.

In contrast to our maternal grandmother’s recipe, my sister, Dawn Hourdajian, offers her mother-in-law’s yalanchi recipe. Nartouhe Hourdajian came from Bursa, south of Istanbul. Her preparation requires baking rather than cooking on top of the stove.

Nartouhe Hourdajian’s Yalanchi

3 lbs. onions, chopped fine
7 ounces rice
7 ounces olive oil*
2 ounces pine nuts*
2 ounces currants*, soaked and drained
salt and pepper, to taste

dash cinnamon
juice of one lemon
1 jar grape leaves

*Dawn says: “My preference is to use less olive oil, and more pine nuts and currants.”

1. Saute onions and pine nuts in olive oil until onions are translucent. Add rice and lemon juice. Cook one minute more. Add cinnamon, salt, pepper and currants.
2. Wrap each grape leaf with about one or two tablespoons of filling. (See steps 3 and 4 in the above recipe for wrapping instructions.) Continue until all of the filling is used.
3. Use a baking pan with 2-inch-high sides. Place torn grape leaves on the bottom of the baking pan to prevent yalanchi from sticking. Place the wrapped leaves in the pan, then put a plate on top to keep them from shifting around while cooking.
4. Cover with foil and bake in a preheated 350 F oven for 15 minutes. (Note: no water is added yet!)
5. Add twice as much water as rice used — 14 ounces, in this case.
6. Cover pan with aluminum foil again. Continue to bake for an additional 1 hour and 15 minutes.
7. Remove from pan. Cool to room temperature. Serve with lemon wedges.