Rediscovering Arabian Sweets: A Nostalgic Journey of Overindulgence
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It’s another usual day. I am sitting here as usual, minding my own business, except one thing missing is the presence of my oh-so-lovely mom. I waited and waited, when finally I hear the sound of keys jangling. BOOM! My mom returns with this huge gift box in our living room, I mean HUGE. It was from our lovely Syrian friend who had just come back from Syria. It was so big I’m thinking, “Did they ship half of Damascus in this?”
Mom was just as giggly as a schoolgirl and peered into me with this twinkle in her eyes, “Guess what? It’s FULL of sweets!” I felt my blood run cold. Arabian sweets. Oh boy.
My Love-Hate Relationship with Arabian Sweets
See, I used to love these bad boys growing up in Arabian countries. They were just about my version of candy heaven. Sticky, syrupy, dense with nuts and mystery ingredients that would probably make a nutritionist weep, but to little me? Nirvana. But then, as time went on and my taste buds got all sophisticated (or so I thought), I grew distant. I started thinking, “Arabian sweets are too sweet, too rich. I’m above that now.”
And then, for two whole decades, I avoided them like the plague. I became one of those people—an “I don’t like sweets” type, pretending to sip my herbal tea while shunning dessert menus like a monk on a fast. Who was I kidding!
Revisiting Childhood Flavors: A Pandora’s Box of Sweet Memories
Warily, I creep up to the box, and Mom is already digging in as if she has found the underground tunnel leading to a world with no calories. The smell wafting from it is a rich potpourri of honey, rose water, and pistachios, which automatically whisks me away to my childhood years. It’s a sensory overload that wakes up the 7-year-old Arabian sweets fanatic in me, who had been in a sugar-deprived coma for years.
“I’ll just have a little,” I thought. Famous. Last. Words.
The Moment of No Return
The very instant baklava touched my teeth, it was like a flashback: running in the scorching sun, dodging sand dunes, and gobbling up sweets. With every bite, another chunk of childhood memories came flooding back: sweet, sugary, emotional ones. A Pandora’s box of sugar-fueled emotions had been opened, and there was no going back now.
From ‘just a little taste’ to ‘I must demolish everything,’ I had awakened the insatiable monster within me. Before long, I found myself waist-deep in sticky fingers and syrup-stained napkins.
The Aftermath: Sweet Gluttony Gone Wrong
Then came the crash. I plopped down on the couch, unmoving—a slug hit by a freight train of syrup and pistachios. My stomach started making noises that could only be described as unholy. Little did I know, I had fallen down a slippery slope of self-sabotaging overindulgence.
And then, the real kicker: ear bleeding. Yes, you read that right. I thought I had discovered a new level of human biology. A quick Google search told me, “Nope, baklava doesn’t cause ear bleeding.” But I was convinced I had unlocked a new medical phenomenon in the hours leading up to this call. And as if that wasn’t enough, my stomach soon started to plot its revenge. Fast forward to the next morning, and let’s just say my bathroom visit was less “normal” and more “Did I just hemorrhage from my indulgence?” Bloody stool. Yep, that happened. Cue the internal screaming. Of course, my hypochondriac self immediately thought I had sugar-induced internal bleeding, but the truth? Overindulgence in sweets, particularly of the rich and syrupy variety, can take quite a toll on the body.
Well, it just so happened that my digestive system had declared an absolute uprising against the sweet invasion. It was like my body was waving a red flag-literally-and saying, “Girl, you did this to yourself.
I won’t lie; it was as scary as all hell for a hot second, and then I realized it was just my body’s dramatic way of telling me to slow down next time. Arabian sweets, while heavenly, aren’t meant to be inhaled like one is performing in some kind of eating competition on the level of Choji in Naruto. Lesson learned? Moderation. Okay, fine, I’ll still binge occasionally, but next time, I’ll come prepared with band-aids for my ears and some probiotics for my gut.
My ears started to ring, and then—is my ear bleeding? Oh God, my body was rejecting me like a broken vending machine.
But even as the sugar coursed through my veins, my only regret was that I didn’t pace myself. The sweets were that good. It’s not every day you revisit the flavours of your childhood—only to devour them like you’re trying to win an eating contest against your younger self. It was a lesson learned in the sweetest, stickiest way possible.
I didn’t stop until I felt… something. A new sensation. You know how sometimes you indulge in something a little too much, and your body goes, “Hey, maybe stop?” Well, mine didn’t just tap me on the shoulder; it whacked me across the head. My EAR started to BLEED. I am not even kidding! First thing in my mind was, “Is that a thing? Do ears bleed when you overdose on sweets?” Then I freaked out. Is this the sugary end to my tale?
I checked Google (because, of course, that’s where we all turn in times of crisis) and found absolutely nothing about ear bleeding from baklava. But what I did discover is that the human body can only handle so much sticky, nutty, sugary goodness before it waves the white flag. Then, to add insult to injury, the next morning, my stomach decided to revolt. Yes, friends, my stool was bloody. TMI? Perhaps. But we’re in this together now.
Arabian Sweets: A Cultural Treasure
What is the origin of Arabic sweets?
Arabian sweets have a rich and ancient history. They are rooted in the cuisines of the Middle East and reflect the diversity that entered the region through many influences over many centuries. These sweet treats find their origin during the Islamic Golden Age, somewhere between the 8th and 13th century, when the Arab world turned into a centre of trade, knowledge, and culture, which lured flavours and ingredients from Persia, India, and the Mediterranean.
Key elements of Arabian sweets include honey, nuts (like pistachios and almonds), and rose water or orange blossom water, ingredients readily available in the region. The emphasis on sweetness came not only from local ingredients like dates but also from the introduction of sugarcane cultivation from India. This allowed for the development of sweet, syrup-drenched desserts that became iconic throughout the region.
Many classic Arabian sweets, such as baklava and knafeh, have roots in ancient Persia and Ottoman Turkey, as the Middle East was a crossroads of empires. Baklava, for instance, evolved from layered dough pastries in Central Asia and became popular across the Middle East through the influence of the Ottoman Empire. Ma’amoul, another staple, is a date-filled pastry that reflects the deep history of date cultivation in the Arabian Peninsula, a key crop for millennia.
Arabian sweets also reflect the Islamic culture of hospitality and generosity. Most of the Arab world serves sweets as a form of respect and honour. For special events such as Eid and weddings, serving sweets becomes highly elaborated. The lavish ingredients used, such as nuts, sugar, and butter, add to the abundance and joy that these sweets undertake in Arab culture.
Today, these pastries are consumed all over the world, with their fillings packed in a history of at least a thousand years of commerce, cross-cultural exchange, and artisanal craftsmanship that has cemented them as beloved symbols of Middle Eastern hospitality and good taste.
Was It Worth It?
But was it worth it? A thousand times, YES. I felt alive, nostalgic, and in desperate need of a dentist. Arabian sweets may have knocked me down, but I got right back up… after a nap and some hydration.
That gift box from Syria wasn’t just full of sweets, but filled with childhood memories and a reminder that some things are just too good to be left in the past. Would I do it again? Oh, absolutely. Maybe next time, though, I’ll pace myself… and stock up on earplugs.
