Dining in the Orient by C. H. Wheeler

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Apr 17, 1884

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 10, No. 16.

Dining in the Orient.

By C. H. Wheeler

We have been invited to take tea, or, in their phrase, to dine, with an Armenian family, who wish in this way to testify their joy at our arrival. In the Armenian family you will see the customs of this part of the Orient as they are, while among the Protestant Armenians some customs are more or less changed through missionary influence.

As we enter the house, our host or one of his family meets us at the door with, "Welcome! A thousand times welcome! A thousand times welcome!" and, after removing our shoes,—or overshoes, if we have on two pairs, as we will take care to do,—we are ushered into a room partly filled with members of the family and other guests, all of whom at once rise to their feet and offer us the "chief seats," which we may as well take, since a refusal to do so would only cause them to insist the more. No one takes his seat till we do, upon the low divan, a wide cushioned seat which extends around three sides of the room, our places being at the head, at the end opposite the door. Take care now not to sit as if the divan were a real sofa, sticking your feet out in front of you, for, though nobody will say anything, they will call you either a "green" or a rude fellow. So draw your feet upon the cushion under or behind you, and look about to receive and return the salutations which all are ready to give.

Beginning with the chief men, and so going down the seats on each side of the room, they touch their foreheads, saying, in Armenian, Parre ye-gar, or, in Turkish, Hosh guel-din,—"Welcome,"—to which we, in turn touching our foreheads, must reply, "Glad to see you," in the same tongue. The female members of the family will soon enter, each one kissing our right hands and bidding us welcome, and we must make some suitable reply, which is different for different persons.

And now they begin to set the table, and as in Turkey most things go by opposites, so this. The first thing laid is the table-cloth, which is spread upon the floor, being large enough to extend into our laps when we sit about it. Perhaps you feel like smiling, but don't do it, for it would be both impolite and uncalled for. In fact this Oriental position of the cloth is more sensible than its position with us, where it sometimes only serves to hide a poor table, and leaves the crumbs to fall upon the floor beneath it, while this cloth gathers them all within itself. A small, four-legged stool is placed on the center of the cloth, and on this a large round copper table, tinned to make it white and neat. Broad thin loaves of bread are then placed all around upon its outer edge, and a spoon and fork for each guest, and dishes of salt and pepper, and in the center of the table a dish of sood-loo, which is rice cooked in milk and sweetened. Sweet things come first here. With this are small copper dishes of soured milk (called madzoon in Armenian; yoghoort in Turkish, and leb-bin in Arabic), and the table is ready for us men to sit down around it upon our heels, though probably, in deference to our known preference for sitting on chairs, they will place the table so near to us that we may retain our seats on the divan, and extend our feet beneath the table-cloth. The sood-loo being eaten, waffles, a sort of fried cake, are brought in, and perhaps helva, a preparation of flour, butter, and honey, or molasses, made from mulberries. This helva you will soon learn to like, especially a kind which is made in Aleppo from sesame seed and grape syrup, and brought to Harpoot in winter.

This over, a dish of some kind of soup, hot from the fire, and still hotter with pepper, is brought, we all, of course, eating from the same dish. Next succeeds a dish "fit to set before a king." A whole lamb stuffed with rice and baked makes his appearance, with some green parsley in his mouth, and we green ones are taught how to carve mutton, and to eat it too, in a cheap, simple, expeditious, and satisfactory way. The "satisfactory" applies to the eating,—for the mutton is really delicious,—and the other three adjectives to the carving. Our host, having previously washed his hands, and dispensing with such occidental luxuries as carving-knives and forks, soon resolves the intruder into his elements, bones, meat, and rice, giving to each of us a piece of meat, while we use our wooden spoons on the rice. Next come perhaps dolemas, and minced meat, or rice and meat made into balls, and boiled or fried, and with them cucumbers, quinces, or tomatoes.

Mutton, or fowl cooked in different ways perhaps succeeds, egg-plant, apples, quinces, onions, and garlic being added to all the meat, and sometime during the meal cheese is given. Then follows the pilav, or a preparation of cracked or hulled wheat boiled, called bulgoor. Then follow fruits; after which we resume our seats, and a servant enters with a sort of wash-bowl and pitcher in hand and a towel upon his shoulder, and beginning with the chief person present, setting the bowl with a piece of soap in the center of its cover upon the floor, pours water upon his hands, and then gives him the towel to wipe them. They think our way of washing hands, by dipping them repeatedly in the same water, very uncivilized.

Hand-washing over, a cup of coffee is offered to each one, and we continue the conversation. All are eager to learn all they can about our country; and, while telling of its, to them, wonderful houses, roads, railroads, steamboats, printing-presses, schools, colleges, seminaries, and churches, and its benevolent institutions, we must not fail to impress upon them the fact that all these, together with all which makes our country different from Turkey, are the fruit of the open Bible in a tongue which the people can read and understand. Before leaving, we read a chapter, sing a hymn, and pray. When we rise to depart, all the company rise also, and say; "May you go in peace!" to which we reply, "May you remain in peace!" and go home and to bed.—Letters from Eden, by Rev. C. H. Wheeler.