MOVING into my own house has, paradoxically, filled my life with chaos yet laced it with a sense of comfort and ownership. As I explore my garden, I discover end-of-season rhubarb and bramble bushes that will see me through autumn. I love discovering unfamiliar produce in Scotland, however, it is the childhood memory of fruits in my grandmother’s garden that always gives me sense of belonging and takes me back to summer’s abundant mango and guavas and winter’s pomegranates.

I have now made Scotland my home willingly, but what if moving to a new land, with an unknown culture was something that had never crossed your mind? Imagine you took for granted that the sun would always thicken your seasonal jam and that the core ingredients for the dishes you loved were right there on your doorstep. Then, suddenly, fate leads you to move to a country you have barely heard of, leaving behind all that cradled you in comfort. All this raced through my head as I drove to Bute to meet Tasnim, a refugee from Syria who came here with her husband and three-year-old daughter. I was excited to spend time with her, to find out her story, but most of all, to discover how what she eats keeps here connected to home.

Talking about food during Ramadan wasn’t going to be easy, but I did know that during this time of year, reflection, contemplation and reliving food memories would be a bonding experience.

Tasnim moved to Scotland from home in Darayya, south-west of Damascus, via Lebanon and Jordan. She finally found herself on Bute, where, after nine months, she feels happy to be reunited with her parents, who have been here for over a year. We began talking about the flavours we both missed most from home. Like me, without hesitation, she said that she missed the fruit – the "apricots tasted like apricots, the grapes like grapes – you can get it all here, but it doesn’t taste of anything!" The grapes in her city, she says, are the best.

Her greatest connection to home through her long and difficult journey from Syria has always been the dishes that she makes. They connect her to happy memoires of eating in "big houses" with her large extended family. Dishes like shish barak (meat dumpling and yoghurt-based stew), kibbeh (mince meat and couscous with spices) and yabra (stuffed wine leaves) which, Tasnim recalls, her mother knows how to make best. As if on cue, her mother, Rania, an elegant lady with her head-scarf beautifully draped, walks in with a confident smile.

It is so inspiring to meet and hear the stories of these ladies, who through all the hardship that brought them here, have opened their hearts to adopting their new home. Rania has felt nothing but welcome in Scotland. She enjoys sharing her traditional dishes with new Scottish friends who appreciate the fresh, simple flavours of Syrian food.

Syrian cuisine is a result of a diffusion of cultures, giving rise to a very diverse and rich range of dishes, with deep roots in Levantine, Ottoman, Lebanese and Persian foods.

Tasnim's Syrian kitchen has transported well, as Glasgow’s Middle Eastern shops stock nearly all she needs. As for the more unique ingredients such as labneh (hung yoghurt), many Syrian families have started making their own on Bute, using local Scottish milk.

One thing Tasnim says she can't find locally are small courgettes, for a dish called kossa bi laban – little courgettes stuffed with minced meat and topped with cooked yoghurt – but she has found ways around it, using larger courgettes sometimes. A key ingredient in Syrian recipes is kishk powder, which is made from bulgur wheat and fermented with laban (yoghurt). It takes 10 says of constant sunshine to produce. Unfortunately, as Rania says, it is not possible to make it at home in Scotland as “there is no sun here”. Kishk is used to make soups and has a distinct umami flavour that adds a unique taste in Middle Eastern food.

When I asked Tasnim and Rania if they noticed how the many immigrants have woven their food into the culinary fabric of Scotland, they said they couldn’t believe how much the Scots enjoyed curry, fish and chips and Chinese. They feel Syrian restaurants and bakeries will pop up across the country. In which case, Tasnim may not have to crave her beloved kanafeh (cheese-based sweets with pastry and pistachio) during Eid or worry too much about sourcing kishk for soups and or akkawi (white brine cheese) for desserts.

Indeed, it is not hard to imagine that soon the cuisine of these brave people will capture the hearts of the Scots. I have already found ingredients like Aleppo pepper, baharat spice blend and kishk making their way into my kitchen, as my thirst for learning more about immigrant cuisines increases.

The journey of Syrian cuisine influences in Scotland is just beginning, but I am certain that it will leave an inedible mark on Scotland’s ever-changing and gracious food landscape, just as many have before.

Rania’s Grilled Kibbeh Mishwiyyeh

Kibbeh are meat parcels made with mince lamb and bulgar wheat, spiced generally with baharat 7 spices, paprika, onions and either pine nuts or, as Rania says, walnuts, as they are much cheaper. Kibbeh are fried, baked, grilled or raw. However, Tasnim and Rania’s favourite is grilled kibbeh (kibbeh mishwiyyeh), which is best cooked on hot coals, not a raging fire. Making them takes practice and patience, but their unique flavour is worth the trouble. A great recipe for the summer, and a Syrian addition to the great Scottish barbecue.

Tip: The dough is delicate, and the water quantity is key in getting it right. Use a small bowl to shape the kibbeh.

For the dough:

300g fatty lamb mince (can be beef mince)

1 onion

½ tsp paprika

salt to taste

½ tsp baharat 7 spice mix

400g couscous or burghul (cracked wheat)

For the filling:

400g fatty lamb mince

10g lamb fat

1 large onion

1 tbsp pomegranate molasses

½ tsp baharat 7 spice mix

Salt to taste

½ tsp ground black pepper

Handful roasted pinenuts or chopped walnuts

To make the dough:

In a food processor, add the mince, onion and the spices and salt. Mince until very smooth. Repeat.

Place into a bowl. Now rinse the couscous (or bulgur) and pat on a kitchen paper. Add the couscous to the smooth mince. Combine and knead like dough, if too dry add a very tiny bit of water, knead again. Cover and set aside.

To make the filling:

Heat a pan, add fat and lamb mince with all the ingredients and cook until done – the mixture should be dry and no moisture should be retained. Cool before stuffing. Mix in roasted nuts.

To assemble kibbeh:

Use a small bowl (about 5 to 6 inches in diameter) to shape the kibbeh. Wet your hands, take about a tennis ball-size of dough and, using a large piece of cling film (about 10 to 12 inches long), roll out dough about 1/3-inch thick. Add about 1 to 2 tbsp of cooked filling in the middle.

Place this patty (with the cling film) in the small bowl. Ensure it evenly fits. Taking another small piece of dough, flatten it and cover the filling (like a lid) ensuring it is not too much as you don’t want a thick base. (Should be about 1/3-inch thick)

Press firmly and then turn over, you should be able to slip the kibbeh out, which is the shape of the bowl. Place on an oiled plate, ready to be grilled. Make more until mixture is finished. These can be frozen and grilled without defrosting, on the grill.

To grill:

Light up a barbecue, once the flames are gone and the coal is hot, place kibbeh, base down on the grill, being careful as raw kibbeh are very delicate and can collapse. Cook for about 30 to 40 minutes, until medium brown and you can turn over to brown the top for 10 minutes or so in the end. Eat hot, with labneh.