#warak

[animatedshortoftheday]

Demolished Soon - 철거예정 (2018) [3 min] by Yoon-ji Kim (김윤지) | Korea

[yukatanpress]

Mamas Warak Arish stuffed grape leaves

[chusthestore]

Mamas Warak Arish stuffed grape leaves

[belle-princess]

Mamas Warak Arish stuffed grape leaves

[mxwhore]

everyone loves the yam. rightfully so

[charliescreatures]

Here’s another creature from Librum Prodigiosum! The Warak Ngendog from Indonesian mythology! This creature is celebrated during the Dugderan festival-the animal itself is described as a hybrid of various beasts including a dragon!

[much-brighter-ink]

grape leaf :)

[djmousewife]

found a place a i can order knafeh from so thats my plans for today

[bonesandstyle]

Mamas Warak Arish (stuffed grape leaves)

[spadecentral]

🧩 Puzzle Master | Jamil Viper x Reader

>> requested: yes, by @merotwst >> a/n: finally got to this one lmaooo

>> masterlist: 400 fllr. special , here!! >> summary: jamil carries you to the kitchen >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): none

You could hear Jamil’s footsteps from behind you as you sat on the floor. 

“Babe…” he sighed, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “It’s a 4000 piece puzzle, and you’ve finished maybe 100 pieces max. How long have you been doing this?”

“Don’t worry about it, only a couple of hours,” you smiled up at him, before going back to look at the puzzle.

“So is that why I didn’t see you get something for lunch?” he asked.

“Possibl…” you trailed off, looking at the pieces before reaching across the pile. “Aha!!”

“Stand up,” Jamil said. “You’ll get a better look at it from up here."

“Actually, that’s pretty smart.” you said, getting off the floor. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that soon– AH!”

In one swift moment, Jamil picked you off of your feet and into a bridal carry.

“Jamil?!”

“I’m taking you to the kitchen,” he started walking away from your puzzle. “You’re going to eat something right now.”

“Nooooo… my puzzle…” you frowned, glancing back at the pieces strewn across the floor.

“You can get back to it after you have some food,” Jamil plopped you down on a barstool. “Here, eat.”

Jamil pushed you a plate with some Warak Enab on it.

“Thanks, Jamil,” you smiled. Jamil’s cooking was always delicious.

“You’re welcome. And don’t neglect your hunger again, or I’ll have to pick you up and give you something.”

“Maybe I’ll do that just so you will pick me up,” you mumbled while chewing on a grape leaf.

“What was that?” Jamil questioned, cleaning dishes at the sink.

“Nothing!”

>> twst taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @ghost-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @booming-spam | @flqyd-is-lost | @kyraxiyn | @rayisalive

[gureumz]

imagine Sunoo as your secret ka-fwb, yung tipong sa circle of friends niyo super feminine niya and daig ka pa niya sa pagiging maarte pero pagdating sa anuhan napapa-sigaw ka niya sa sarap at halos di ka na makalakad after🤭😶‍🌫️

anon anong nangyayari sakin 🧍🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🐕

---

"sunoo, dahan-dahan lang," comes your weak attempt at stalling sunoo's hands gripping at your chest.

you couldn't help the whine that escapes you when he slaps one of your boobs harshly. bibigay na ata mga tuhod mo sa mga pinag-gagawa ni sunoo.

"dahan-dahan?" sunoo says through his teeth. "eh kung pikunin mo ko kanina parang wala nang bukas, eh."

he reaches under your skirt, the shortest one you have (the same one he gifted you for your first birthday after you two started sleeping together), and tugs at your delicate underwear until they gave away, ripped practically in half.

"joke lang naman kasi," you say, voice quivering. dali-daling binulsa ni sunoo ang warak mong panty.

"tignan natin kung kaya mo pang mag joke pagkatapos kitang laspaging puta ka," sunoo threatens, pressing down harshly on your clit. he rubs quick circles over it and you cry out, holding onto the front of sunoo's shirt for dear life.

"diba, puta kita? sakin ka lang naman kasi umuungol nang ganito," sunoo presses on. "sakin ka lang namamasa nang parang lahat na ng tubig sa dagat nasa puke mo."

he grabs your face, dark eyes glinting as he watches tears cascade down your face.

"ano? sagot."

[oldlovecassette]

“Fairuz in San Francisco” (1972), a live recording of music from the Lebanese play “Nass Men Warak” (Paper People), at the Masonic Memorial Temple in San Francisco, 1971. It was the last stop on her first-ever North American tour, which began at Carnegie Hall in New York City, and took her to 10 cities across the United States, as well as Montréal and Mexico City.

[inaweek-project]

In a Week

April 27, 2024

Rev 3

______________________________________________________________

Palestine, 1948

In a week.

            She looked past the woman, mulling over what was told to her, along with other horrible thoughts that were not reflected in her concentrated stare. The woman repeated herself and a man appeared behind the catatonic young woman in the threshold of their countryside home. He put a hand on her shoulder which broke her trance. She quickly rounded past him and into the home. He locked eyes with the Romani woman who gave him an apologetic nod and had turned to leave when the young woman rushed out the door with a sack filled with food. The other woman declined but, undeterred, she marched past her and went to the woman’s horse that was standing untethered yet still. She reached into the bag, gave the horse a carrot, and tied the sack to the rest of the woman’s belongings. As she stomped back toward the house, the man waved the Romani woman goodbye. She mounted her horse and rode past the homestead toward the sea below the blue sky peppered with smoke.

*  *  *

They sat in front of full teacups. Looking down with an arm around her, he rubs the far side of her hip with the desire for her to look at him, but she abstains in favor of continuing to stumble through the treacherous jungle of her thoughts for she knew she would burst into tears the moment she caught a glimpse of his chin, his lips, his nose, all before she could even reach his eyes. He lifted his cup and once she saw how it shook, she choked and ran off as if she meant to tend to the animals.

*  *  *

The sun had snuck away unnoticed when she brought the rabbit inside and gently lowered her to the floor. She stood in the middle of their small living space, head in her hands. Before he could take the two steps over to her, she fell to her knees. He kneeled down and slowly rubbed her back. The silence was unnerving him, so to interrupt it he picked up the oud and plucked with less confidence than he would the guitar he left behind on his troubled island, only to end up in a land of a similar fate with a young woman who he had to go to the ends of the earth for in order to make smile. While trying to remember a song he heard playing on the streets, he boiled kehwa, smoked hashish, and paced around his wife on the floor (who had fallen onto her side) until it was time to help her up and bring her to bed.

*  *  *

The next morning, she stood in the kitchen tearing up food: Nabulsi cheese, khubz, kousa, dates, pistachios, apricots, and stewed lamb shoulder. She got up early to simmer the warak dawali she left bathing in olive oil and had meant to cook the previous day, only to have been visited by the Romani woman. She took the deep pot that had cooling down and poured as much as she could into the orangey wooden bowl with the rest of mismatched mélange of food.  He awoke not long after, kissed her on the head, started a fresh pot of kehwa, and took the bowl to feed the animals. She fed the rabbit the remaining sprigs of parsley she would have otherwise used for kofta. At the counter again, she cut up pieces of potato, tomato, and cucumber. Starting furiously and slowing to a stop she gazed out the window fixated on the unwavering tunnel of smoke in the distance.

He returned out of breath from wrestling the goat into a hug when his wife had a sudden spark of urgency and asked whether they should open the gate and set the animals free. She followed his eyes out the door where she saw the gate door wide open while the herd remained near the house, unaffected. The two gazed upon the spread of food laid out in the kitchen. The thought of consumption was an uneasy one.

*  *  *

He tried to hug, to hold, to handle, but for her, affection did not come easy, even toward the only man she would ever love. For her, when fear comes, fear floods, but he stood there determined, tapping his foot on the cool stone floor and humming a local tune he seemed to have picked up faster than her, who had heard it her whole life. His momentum grew as he tried to stare her into submission from across the room.

              I don’t ever dance, you know this.

Not even on our wedding.

              I don’t have it in me.

It’s in everyone.

              Not me. It doesn’t matter now anyway.

It didn’t matter before and it all but matters now.

              It doesn’t matter now and there is nothing to—       

He lunged at her by intuition alone, grasping both hands, pulling her close, and swinging her around their small, secluded home. She laughed and stumbled and endlessly tried to wipe the knowing grin off his face as she let him marionette her body into dance. The rabbit hopped in to join them, and the woman faltered to avoid stepping on her. She lowered to the floor to hand over the attention the rabbit had wanted. After the rabbit had her fill and retreated under the table, he sat down behind her, pulled her close. The brutal silence inside the home gave way for the screams in the distance to travel far enough to be heard. She was disturbed, but halfway to acceptance when she got up and went to their bedroom. He opened the draw of the coffee table where a picture of the two them sat and pocketed a small cloth sack. She returned donning gold jewelry and carrying soft pouches of her own. She put on the remaining gold bracelets, and he clasped another necklace he had gifted her at their wedding. He admired how the gold she wore was like a magnet, pulling to the surface all the radiance and warmth within her.

            She took the bowl from the kitchen outside to feed the animals once more and for another bout of hugs and kisses. The jingle of her jewelry excited the goat, who excited the sheep, who excited the calf. There was an excessive amount of animal feed under the mound of fresh food. He brought the rabbit out and she held her one last time before setting her down. Stepping slowly to the front door, she took the solid piece of steel from the pocket of her thobe, inserted it without precision, and turned it until the lock clicked. She held the key to her mouth in breathless acknowledgment for what she had done. He took hold of her other hand as they walked toward the hill.

He reaches for the shovel propped up against the robust olive tree. She continues to walk forward and looks upon the changing land below and the sea the distance. She lets the damn break and sobs for what she sees and what she cannot. Behind her, he is making his own changes to the land, sweaty and struggling to breath—not in regard to labor, but from of the weight of the tortured sounds coming from the plight below and from the unremitting wails emanating his wife. He slumps to his knees and crawls to her. She does not meet him, so he burrows his face into the folds of her thobe.

            Eventually night falls around them as they lay crumpled up on the ground, still as water in a well.

*  *  *

She is in his arms, and he is restless. As if by divine intervention, he shoots up and begins to dig at the earth once more. She is curious and fearful as she looks behind her to find him emphatically stabbing the divide between two rectangular plots. He is mumbling and cursing himself and does not cease until the two depressions are one. She turns away once she sees he is giving in to laying down. He calls for her, and she imagines looking toward him, not able to see him, only hear his voice summoning her. The thought haunts her just as his voice does, and the incessant anguish inside her races down her face as tears, as snot, as bubbles of spit.

            They are no longer able to hear screams. Only the machines that stifle them.

*  *  *

It is much colder than he imagined. He thinks about how deep one would have to dig before feeling the faint first waves of the fires from hell. The deep heat he craves while lying in the frigid soil would come soon; he knows all too well from blistery winters spent back home of how the extreme cold can burn just as much as heat. He did not know if what brought him to his feet was that of love or of selfishness, but he grabs her to hold her tight

and drags her down. One ear pressed to dirt and the other open to the assault of her soul tearing through her opened mouth, he reaches for the sack in his pocket, bit what is in it in two, and forces one half into her howling mouth. He let the bitterness of his portion linger on his tongue as punishment as he uses his hand to cover the lower half of her face.

[youngharleezy]

What about Jack trying food from your culture

Oooohh I know Jack would be so dramatic about trying something he’s never had before 💀💀

*********************************************************

You place the plate of stuffed grape leaves in front of Jack. The look on his face showed his hesitation in trying one of your favorite foods growing up, but after his attempt of making peanut butter chicken the night before, you knew you needed to widen his pallet and get him to try some real food.

“Don’t look at it too hard. It’s good.” You tell him, scooting the plate closer to him as you stood above him.

Jack picks one up and inspects it, asking you, “Did Urban roll these? They’re rolled pretty good.”

“No, but now that you mention it, I could use his help next time. My hands are killing me after all the ones I rolled today.” You say, thankful that he reminded you of Urban’s steady hands. You watched as Jack continued examining the grape leaves. “Just try one. If you don’t like it, I’ll eat the rest.” You plead to him.

You knew Jack’s taste. If peanut butter chicken was something that brought him satisfaction, this meal would send him to a different planet.

Jack takes a big bite, fitting a whole rolled leaf into his mouth. He chews it with a look of hesitancy to begin with, but you watched as his face switched to satisfaction. You saw his eyes close as he began to savor the flavor, and you were almost certain you heard a moan release his body.

“Do you like it?!” You ask eagerly as he goes in for another bite.

“Way better than peanut butter chicken. Better than porn honestly.” He mumbles out in between chewing. You laugh as you make your way back to the kitchen, preparing to fix him another plate.

*********************************************************

If you’ve never had stuffed grape leaves (warak 3nab is what us Palis call it) I feel bad for you son. You got 99 problems and that should be your biggest one

Also if you’re Greek, don’t come for me. The Arabs had it first

[7adreen]

‘Nass men Warak’ LP by Fairuz (1972) 

[sidewalkchemistry]

🫑🍅 stuffed vegetable recipes 🍅🫑 eat a variety of veggies

(customize the recipes to fit your dietary preferences)

Vegan Stuffed Tomatoes With Creamed Spinach

Raw Stuffed Mushrooms with Rosemary “Cream”

Broccoli Rabe and Hummus Topped Sweet Potatoes

Lebanese Tabbouleh Salad (in Lettuce Tacos)

Asian Stuffed Red Cabbage Rolls

Vegetarian Stuffed Grape Leaves (Warak Enab)

Raw Beet Ravioli with Vegan Cashew Cheese

Moroccan Lentil-Stuffed Eggplant

Vegan Stuffed Acorn Squash

Kousa Mahshi (Stuffed Squash in a Tomatoes Broth)