Kulicha/Kleicha, more than a cookie, for Kurds

Kulicha, also known as Kleicha, is a traditional Southern Kurdish dessert and sometimes considered the national cookie of Iraq. To me, it is the ultimate symbol of our identity, my mother and her family’s recipe.

Today is Newroz, and Kurds celebrate it alongside 20+ ethnicities, so it is symbolic that I am posting this piece today. The new day, the passing of darkness and the start of spring. It’s as if there is total alignment. Newroz pîroz be!

There is a lot to say about this cookie. It would be remiss not to speak to the history of this one, because it is extremely traditional, but also a beacon of identity for us. Kulicha comes in several traditional shapes and fillings, the most popular being rolled discs with a date filling (yes, my picture shows that some have more dates in them than others, this is the hardest shape to perfect, to me, hah) and half moons with a walnut filling. This is best served with tea, no doubt. You cannot stop at one either, and I joke this is why all of our hand-held foods are made in large batches, because extra servings and big families was definitely kept in mind. If you google it you will not find that it is Kurdish, unless you search it as Kulicha, and not Kleicha. Spelling apparently matters when identifying its origins…who knew that would be such a struggle, but here we are. No surprises, let’s be honest. This is a big reason why I am writing about this cookie.

Recently, I signed up for a cultural appreciation event and jumped at the idea of being able to share something so important to my culture and for everyone to be able to read one another’s piece of identity, with honest appreciation and education. The idea stemmed from the amplified conversations on food appropriation versus appreciation. This is far from a new topic, but it is one that is being given the attention it deserves more so than ever, understanding that there is much apology that the international culinary world is owed by the West, and they know it. It is starting to shift how we view one another’s cuisine and ultimately the culture and people.

There are the big cuisines that are very obviously appropriated globally and for too long: Southern American, Mexican, Chinese, Thai and Indian are the big five to me. It is a heavy topic that requires much attention, a lot of unlearning, and in depth discussion that cannot simply be packed into one post, but it is something I am very involved in with my online community. I feel proud seeing culinary experts, chefs, bloggers and brands start to amplify these discussions amongst us, question right vs wrong, and create a safe space of community to help one another and inspire. It’s all it takes. This is a big deal when understanding how to appreciate one’s cuisine. Now, there is also a lot of confusion with “why can’t I cook what I want when I’m home”, and that is not what this conversation is about. Cook what you want, we actually want that! How else will our cuisine and culture be understood. Especially one like mine, or the SWANA region. Food appreciation is about cooking what you want, no matter where it comes from, but do you understand why you are making it? Do you know the story of this culture, or at least the dish? Whether you are a recipe developer, blogger, or a home cook who just enjoys to cook, there is a story behind every dish. We are the culinary architects that has helped develop the Western cuisine. Had it not been for the colonization of certain places and slavery, the Western culinary world would not exist. Our stories should be known, especially if you are publishing your own recipe or version of it. There is a fine line when it comes to restaurateurs, because there is history with shaping your entire culinary experience and menu around a culture that is not yours. Do you also hire chefs and staff that are from those backgrounds? Are you amplifying said community, especially if they are marginalized? The story matters. The story of our foods matter. They are our last hopes and ties to our origins for most of us, because a lot stems from marginalized ethnic minorities. This conversation is not new, but it still needs to be amplified.

I specifically chose Kulicha, because it not only captures the appreciation of my culture and land, but it also highlights the lack of recognition and appropriation both within the Middle East and the West. It is an interesting dichotomy, because the problem of recognition and appreciation stems within our own continents and borders, as well, and that is more damaging. This is something that is rarely addressed, but is just as important as Western appropriation. As you can see by a simple google search you will find it extremely hard to read that this cookie is Kurdish, just as much as it is Iraqi. That in-itself, even from Middle Eastern chefs and bloggers is a problem. There wasn’t enough understanding spread for people to realize the history and story of this dessert that is just as much both of ours. There is an importance in recognizing that this is considered a national cookie of Iraq, but there is a greater need to realize that this is a traditional and ancestral cookie for Kurdistan. Specifically the South, where I am from, which is the Northern region of Iraq (for geographical context). It is time to put this dessert at the culinary table the correct way and give it the honor it deserves for both Kurdistan and Iraq. In other words, modern Mesopotamia.

The history is not well documented for Kulicha, unfortunately, and the most that I will go by is our ancestry and the symbolism of our elders who have passed down their memorized recipes to their daughters - our mothers - who have since passed their versions onto us. When I flipped through my mum’s recipe book last year, in search of Kulicha, I chuckled to myself remembering that half her book is in Kurdish and Arabic, which I cannot read. A great shame, we know! So, you can imagine my suffering at this point in time with my cooking journey. I have not seen my parents in over a year, due to the pandemic, and so the need (read: critical need) to learn some more of our traditional recipes and make them for the first time, without her, was an emergency. It was a way for me to remain connected to my parents and continue learning our history deeper, but it was a sign that time is precious. I needed to learn these recipes soon and figure it out by myself. It was time to step into the shoes of my mum and make our Kurdish food, with my siblings as my taste testers. The pure pleasure of spending time on the phone with my parents and aunt to discuss food and history is something that I will cherish forever out of the past 12 months of a rollercoaster.

My mother and I spent countless phone calls during the early months of the pandemic sifting through every page and scanning all the important ones for her to translate. Kulicha was one of those. I have studied her recipes for years - the English ones - but there was something extra special this time around. It was a renewal and awakening for me and my identity. I had never made Kulicha without her, to be honest I’d only ever watched over the years. It was too intricate, fast paced and complex for me to grasp all this time and I was not going to be in her way, I’d simply observe. I think we both agreed that was better. Well, I had to crack out of that shell real quick. I did it! It took patience and a lot of half moon folding practice (think dumplings shaping), but you do get the hang of it. I am painfully slower than my mother, but then again she and our elders have had decades of practice, and I am on year one. As rustic and homemade as these look, the taste and texture are a perfect match.

There is something comforting about Kulicha. The smell it evokes during the process and the baking is something out of the ordinary. It is immediately identifiable and distinctive. If I ever needed to feel closer to my family or home Kulicha is always the answer and it can only be homemade. I think there’s something so important to the recipe handed down for this one. Something that no one else can replicate, or appropriate. Simply appreciate.

This cookie is a symbol of Kurdistan, as well as Iraq, and that alone speaks to our history and the challenging journeys we have endured. Food is justice, but it is also hope and community and this cookie represents that. #culturewithinourfood