Merrimack Valley Magazine

The Power of the Table

June 10, 2016 by Liz Michalski 1 Comment

The Merrimack Valley’s Lebanese Food Traditions Bring Together Family and Community.

Don’t ever plan to leave a Lebanese home hungry.

That’s according to Bassam Geha, owner of the Phoenician Restaurant in Haverhill and Bishop’s Mediterranean in Boston. The Middle Eastern diet relies heavily on grains, fruits and , as well as a focus on hospitality. Combined, that means good food — and plenty of it.

So much food that Geha has to plan his diet carefully when he visits Lebanon. “There’s a saying: ‘You don’t have to answer yes the first time someone asks you to eat in Lebanon, because they are going to ask you five more times,’ ” he says.

Lebanese food isn’t new to the Merrimack Valley.

“There’s lots of Lebanese food that you can find; it’s become a mainstream item,” Geha says. “Hummus, baba ghanoush … shawarma (a shaved, roasted meat) was even mentioned in the latest “Iron Man” movie.”

When Geha holds a Lebanese event at the restaurant, he always instructs his waitstaff to leave the mezes — small appetizers — on the table for two hours, replenishing as necessary, before bringing the main meal.

“I tell them: ‘Don’t take it away, no matter what.’ ” he says. “People eat a little, sit and talk, dance, eat a little more. They go outside, eat again.”

Lebanese food. — Front plate, clockwise from top: stuffed grape leaves; stuffed kousa; stuffed pepper; stuffed cabbage (all stuffed with lamb, rice and spices); lubee (string beans with lamb or shell beans with tomatoes, onions and garlic); fasolia (lima beans with lamb, tomato sauce and rice), center of plate: baked kibbee (ground sirloin and lamb, mixed with cracked wheat, onions and spices). Middle left plate: onions and pickled turnips; Middle right plate: hummus. Top left plate: raw kibbee; Top right plate: tabouli (chopped parsley, tomatoes, onions, and cracked wheat with lemon juice, oil and spices). Photos by Kevin Harkins.

One of the surprise popular choices on the mezes menu? Kibbe, or seasoned beef or lamb. “If we don’t have it, all hell breaks loose,” Geha says. “And it’s not just Lebanese customers. You’d be surprised at how many people are familiar with it in the Merrimack Valley.”

That familiarity traces, in part to Bishop’s, a restaurant in Lawrence that featured Middle Eastern specialties for more than 50 years before closing. Started by a Lebanese immigrant who originally sought work in the textile mills, it was well-known for its stuffed grape leaves and other Lebanese dishes.

Geha, who moved to the United States from Lebanon in the 1980s, worked at with his family. When the restaurant closed, he opened the Phoenician, hiring many of Bishop’s staff. Although there have been changes to the menu, many of the original items remain, especially traditional dishes like hummus, Geha’s favorite. (He has been known to eat it on steak, lamb and, occasionally, plain, with a fork.)

Carlo Berdahn, who owns the Andover restaurant Yella with his wife, Danielle, remembers growing up in a Lebanon filled with civil wars, religious persecution and political unrest.

“But food always had an immense power to bring everyone together,” he says. “Sitting at the table is a huge part of the culture. It’s like going to church; you can’t miss it.”

Berdahn, who describes his food as a modern twist on Lebanese cooking, has tried to re-create that atmosphere at his restaurant. “Food makes you feel taken care of, and we believe memories are made around delicious dishes,” he says.

Lebanese cuisine also fits with the current foodie trend of fresh, local ingredients. It’s rooted in a farm-to-table approach, Berdahn says. “Most homes have gardens they rely on, and everything they’re cooking is from the land to the pot.”

Recipes often are handed down from generation to generation. Although Berdahn attended a French cooking school, it was his mother who really taught him. “I still think she makes the best food in the world,” he says.

Like many traditional foods, making some dishes requirespassion and patience. They can be time-consuming to prepare.

“Everything is made from scratch. In Lebanon, there aren’t any ready-made ingredients. For example, you can’t go to the supermarket and buy tomato paste. You make it once a year and can it yourself,” Berdahn says.

That element results in fewer people preparing traditional dishes, says William Yameen co-owner of the Butcher Boy Market in North Andover. “People are so busy, and the effort to make the traditional dishes of any ethnicity can be Herculean,” he says. “Some of these recipes are getting lost as time goes by.”

Information on how to source and prepare ingredients before cooking is disappearing, too, according to Yameen. “That’s why it’s important to go to someone experienced, who knows what they are doing, when shopping,” he says.

Despite the work involved, many people still want the food they remember, Yameen says. That means making a streamlined version of a favorite dish, or purchasing it from a restaurant or store.

People looking for those traditional dishes this summer should consider a Labor Day weekend visit to Lawrence, where for the last 40-plus years Saint Anthony Maronite Church has hosted Mahrajan — a Lebanese word meaning festival. There’s music, dancing, children’s activities, raffle baskets and lots of food, including an entire tent devoted to favorite Lebanese sweets.

Foodies can expect to find kaak, a type of Lebanese donut, ghraybeh, a sugar and butter confection, and phyllo dough pastries stuffed with rose water and orange-flavored creams, says parish member and baker Bassima Aboujaoude.

Also available: katayef (sweet Lebanese crepes made to order), ma’amul (shortbreads filled with dates and nuts), baklava, and strong Lebanese coffee for people who cannot live on sugar alone.

Baking starts weeks in advance, says Aboujaoude, who shares cooking duties for the tent with several other women, including her sister, Raghida Ramey, and friends Leila Daou, Foutine Daher and Claudine Raad. No matter how many sweets the women make, there never seem to be enough.

Like many traditional cooks, Aboujaoude and her friends were taught by their mothers and by the church women who operated the festival before them. The recipes may vary slightly, but the message behind the treats remains the same, she says.

“We’ve always taken whatever the ladies before us used to do and tried to combine it with our own touches,” Aboujaoude says. “We’re putting everyone’s love in there.”

Phoenician Restaurant
Haverhill, Mass.
(978) 373-1714
PhoenicianRestaurant.com

Butcher Boy Market
North Andover, Mass.
(978) 688-1511
ButcherBoyMarket.com

Yella
Andover, Mass.
(978) 749-0011
YellaGrille.com

Saint Anthony Maronite Church
Lawrence, Mass.
(978) 685-7233
StAnthonyLawrence.org

Other Local Resources:

George’s Bakery
Methuen, Mass.
(978) 682-6811
GBakery.com

Hassey’s Grocery & Mediterranean Food
Methuen, Mass.
(978) 686-6096

Korbani’s Bakery
Methuen, Mass.
(978) 686-2268
KorbanisBakery.com

Sahtaine Restaurant
Methuen, Mass.
(978) 258-2186
SahtaineRestaurant.com

Jocelyn’s Mediterranean Restaurant & Martini Lounge
Salem, N.H.
(603) 870-0045
JocelynsRestaurant.com

Shadi’s Restaurant & Lounge
North Andover, Mass.
(978) 683-9559
ShadisRestaurant.com

Northern Essex Community College’s High Tech Mannequins Help Students Learn to Save Lives

May 31, 2016 by Liz Michalski Leave a Comment

The call wasn’t out of the ordinary — a 67-year-old male at a rehab facility was experiencing chest pains and shortness of breath. The four paramedics who responded checked his medical history, administered aspirin, and provided oxygen to help him breathe. Then the situation deteriorated rapidly.

Students in NECC’s paramedic program ponder over what ails Stan, an eerily lifelike mannequin. Training on Stan - who has a pulse, can sweat and ‘bleed’ - gives students a chance to experience realistic medical emergencies before they see them in the field. Photo by Kevin Harkins. — Students in NECC’s paramedic program ponder over what ails Stan, an eerily lifelike mannequin. Training on Stan – who has a pulse, can sweat and ‘bleed’ – gives students a chance to experience realistic medical emergencies before they see them in the field. Photo by Kevin Harkins.

“It hurts,” the patient moaned. “I can’t breathe.” The heart monitor he was connected to began to malfunction, making it impossible for his rescuers to get an accurate reading. Within seconds, the man went into cardiac arrest.

Luckily the paramedics stayed calm. Using chest compressions, drugs, and finally electric shock, they managed to revive their patient — just in time for the next class at Northern Essex Community College to practice on him.

The “patient” — nicknamed Stan — is a high-fidelity simulator or mannequin that sweats, blinks and bleeds. Students who train on him can insert a chest tube, check a pulse, staunch a wound, even intubate him if necessary. A speaker inside the mannequin allows an instructor in another room to be its voice. Eerily lifelike, Stan — modeled after a Navy SEAL — helps future first responders and current EMTs seeking additional training to hone their skills before they ever face an actual crisis.

Of the nine mannequins the college owns, Stan is the most high-tech. He’s used a lot, but not just by the paramedic classes. Students training to become sleep and radiation technologists, and medical assistants use him to learn how to handle real-life situations, ranging from medical crises to daily care. He’s also used to simulate scenarios that require cultural awareness, including when he poses as a patient suspected of being a victim of domestic abuse.

“If people haven’t seen him before, it can take them aback because he’s so lifelike,” says Rory Putnam, an EMS clinical coordinator and paramedic instructor at the college.

But such realistic detailing doesn’t come cheap. Stan cost about $80,000, according to Nancy Harnois, the college’s technical lab coordinator. And at about a year old, he’s already not the latest model.

“It’s overwhelming how fast the technology is changing,” Harnois says.

Rory Putnam, a coordinator for the program. Photo by Kevin Harkins.

But the college is working hard to keep up. This fall, when the health education operations move into the $27.4 million El Hefni Health & Technology Center in Lawrence, students will be working on what Harnois calls the “Cadillac” of high-tech mannequins. Priced at about $200,000, the new model is so realistic that a pillow over his face could actually cause him to “suffocate.” And the state of the art facilities will include an ambulance, craned in before the building was constructed, so first responders can get a sense of what it’s like to work on patients under stressful conditions.

For now, though, students who work on Stan have few complaints. Those who are in the paramedic program are all certified emergency medical technicians, and even though the four who responded to Stan’s cardiac crisis all hold jobs as EMTs, practicing on the mannequin provides valuable experience, they say.

“The scope of what we can practice as an EMT is so limited,” says Seth Rohrer, 23, of Lowell. “We can see and observe at work, but in this program we actually get to practice what we see in the field.”

The mannequins also allow students to experience unusual circumstances that could be life-threatening if not treated correctly, Harnois says. As an example, she cites tension pneumothorax, a condition that might occur during a trauma, such as a car accident. In this situation, a lung has been punctured and is leaking air into the chest cavity. The pressure keeps the lungs from inflating, and can only be relieved by inserting a needle directly into the chest wall. Harnois says the situation is rare — a paramedic could have a 20-year career without seeing it — but knowing how to respond quickly, if it happens, is critical.

“We try to throw things at them they might not see very often in the field, but that may cross their paths someday,” Harnois says. “Hopefully if that day comes, they’ll be able to remember what they learned and say ‘this is what I was trained to do.’ ”

Northern Essex Community College El Hefni Health & Technology Center
Lawrence, Mass. / NECC.Mass.edu

The Man Behind the Dog – Artist Dale Rogers, Jr.

October 15, 2007 by Andy Smith

[Editor’s note: This article appeared in the Fall 2007 issue of mvm. It has been updated to reflect current AP style guidelines. Otherwise, for historical reasons, we are publishing it now in its original form, with dates and ages unchanged.]

Haverhill artist Dale Rogers is not an easy interview.

Without warning, he leaps from one anecdote to another, and he frequently veers off-topic, rarely returning unless prompted to do so. He enjoys making odd or sarcastic statements with a straight face, and then watching you earnestly jot them down before letting you in on the joke. But the most surprising statement made by Rogers was entirely sincere, given in response to the simple question “Where are you from?”

Standing outside of his studio and home on tucked behind the Route 125 Connector, Rogers points across a sprawling field to a white house. “Right there,” he says. “I lived there my whole life.”

This seems improbable. Easygoing with sun-bleached hair and a surfer’s drawl reminiscent of Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, you’d never guess that the 34-year-old Rogers grew up on a New England farm.

But in fact, his family’s Spring Hill Dairy Farm was the training ground where Rogers learned the welding techniques that he uses today to create sculptures that enrich landscapes in the Merrimack Valley and beyond. His most famous design, “American Dog,” stands on the farm’s outskirts along I-495, and was featured in Merrimack Valley Magazine’s summer issue.

While fixing broken farm equipment as a teenager, Rogers developed not only a skill set but a love for welding. He never set out to create art, he says. But when welding became a hobby instead of a mere chore, art was the byproduct.

“That’s really how it started,” he says. “At first, I was such a bad welder, but I slowly got better. And then I started welding together pieces that weren’t broken. And when you do that, it’s art.”

The transition from art as a hobby to art as an occupation was one of necessity. Rogers graduated from Haverhill High School and what is now Southern New Hampshire University. But school was never his forte.

He knew that the family business could not support the entire family. And he also knew that people responded to his creations, which by the early 2000s included fine art sculptures as well as functional items like clocks and wine racks. So, in 2002, Rogers decided to be an artist.

“It wasn’t a matter of gaining the confidence to go ahead and do it,” he says. “I knew I had to make a change. And I may not be the best reader, but I can read a crowd. I know what people connect to, and that’s important.”

The early stage of his career yielded what Rogers considers some of his best work — including, what he calls without pretense, “some huge, metal, naked chicks.” With an enormous amount of hustling, he was able to unload some of those first pieces. He drove cross-country to a gentlemen’s club convention in Las Vegas, where he sold off a few. And then he drove, uninvited, to a gallery in Palm Desert, California. The owner loved the work, and agreed to take the remaining pieces off his hands. But only if he could somehow get them up to the second-floor space.

“I don’t think she thought I could do it. They were like 200 pounds each, but I’d come that far, and I wasn’t gonna turn away,” he recalls. “So I dragged those things up the stairs, around corners, and that’s kind of what it’s been like ever since. When everyone’s yelling at Rocky to stay down, that’s me. I get up, stumble around, throw a couple punches, and get knocked down again. That’s the story of my career.”

The experience showed Rogers that the market for huge, metal, naked chicks is somewhat limited. He learned to adapt his style and design sculptures with a broader appeal.

“You think, ‘OK, what will people remember? What do people feel an emotional connection to?’ And people feel that toward their pets. That’s kind of how the dog came about.”

While the dog sculptures remain in high demand, most of Rogers’s current work is more conceptual, designs that play with line and shape. When asked to explain them, Rogers does not indulge in convoluted, heady artist speak. Rather, he simply points out the ways that different contours, angles and textures work together and build off each other. The work is designed to be noticed and appreciated, not psychoanalyzed.

And, of course, it is designed to feed the wife and kids, which seems to be going well. He can now employ a two-man crew, and his driveway is filled with pieces that have already been sold and are awaiting shipment to corporate offices, college campuses, public parks, and homes throughout the U.S. He receives a steady stream of custom orders that range from the abstract to the functional, such as the signs he created to greet patrons at Glory Restaurant in Andover.

But with more success comes more work, and Rogers is working harder than ever. His day often starts at 2 or 3 in the morning, which allows him to get in a few hours of welding before the phone starts ringing and life intrudes. The job remains a nonstop, day-to-day hustle.

“I started off as a businessman pretending to be an artist. And the more that I’ve made art, the more I feel like an artist pretending to be a businessman,” he says.

“I keep a good balance between making quality work and selling it at a fair price. But it’s hard to do. I’m having fun, but this lifestyle’s not for everyone. There’s a word that’s always used with artists, and it’s not multimillionaire.”

To see more work by Dale Rogers, visit DaleRogersStudio.com

The Power of the Table

Northern Essex Community College’s High Tech Mannequins Help Students Learn to Save Lives

The Man Behind the Dog – Artist Dale Rogers, Jr.

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