Since something like 88% of Dubai’s population comes from somewhere else, well, nearly everything at the grocery store comes from somewhere else, too.
If you’re salivating, you’ve got it right.
Make deep lengthwise cuts into your large potato hunks, and cram more filling into the crevice. Using Mom Magic or Chef Magic, it will stay put. Excavate the artichoke hearts from the top, creating a sort of crater. Stuff more meat mixture into that crater, so it’s overflowing and doesn’t make a lot of sense.
There are other sweets out of Mogadishu that I devour enthusiastically, an array of crunchy, colorful, cookie-ish treats that generous colleagues hauled to the office for me during a recent trip. And when I write haul, I mean it: in total I carried more than 10 kilos of sweets back to Hargeisa. I daresay no one takes their sugar as seriously as Somalis, and after four years, it’s rubbing off.
…All this as prelude to the moment of my friend’s arrival, when he actually gave the mostly-eaten basket of pastries back to the waiter in disgust (at me, for ruining my appetite with these snacks!), and promptly ordered me to a rooftop I didn’t even realize existed, for a proper breakfast. Upward and onward!
In my estimation, fadiirad is, ethnocentrically speaking, the local equivalent of a Tex-Mex burrito bowl, eaten from an aluminum take-away box on the street. The base of it, literally and figuratively, is a grilled bread called sabaayad, according to The Googles it’s similar to India’s paratha – a flat, flaky, oily, simple combination of flour, water, salt.