Qotban d'Agneau (قطبان)

The first pieces of lamb for qotban often meet the charcoal before the slow pots have even decided what they'll become. Cubes of meat, grated onion, cumin, paprika, parsley, coriander, a little oil, then fire. On Eid al-Adha this is the taste that arrives quickly, tucked into khobz while the rest of the house keeps working. In the souk, it is the same welcome: a butcher, a brazier, a shared plate, and someone making room at the bench.

The rule is dry heat. The grated onion seasons the lamb and softens its edge, but excess wet marinade must drip away before the skewers touch the grate; otherwise the meat tightens and cooks in its own juice before it browns. Keep the cubes close to clean coals, turn them before they stiffen, and let a little lamb fat between pieces baste what the fire would take.

This is spare food, not careless food. Buy lamb that smells sweet and fresh, grind cumin that still wakes your nose, and don't bury the meat under a dozen powders. La balance est dans les yeux (the scale is in the eyes), especially here: enough spice to cling, enough salt to wake it, enough bread for the hand that arrives late. Une table, c'est une porte qu'on laisse ouverte (a table is a door you leave open), and qotban makes that door easy to hold.