[Sca-cooks] Odd Question

[lilinah at earthlink.net]

NOTE: the rich man's "name" should be transliterated as "Barmakid", not "Barmecide". He was of a family that served as advisors to Caliph Harun al-Rashid. The Barmakids were descendants of noble Persian family in Baghdad.

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I found this on-line: http://www.mainlesson.com/display.php?author=baldwin&book=fifty&story=feast

"Come now," said the Barmecide, "let us have supper."
He sat down, as if to a table, and pretended to be carving a roast. Then he said, "Help yourself, my good friend. You said you were hungry: so, now, don't be afraid of the food."
Schacabac thought that he understood the joke, and he made pretense of taking food, and passing it to his mouth. Then he began to chew, and said, "You see, sir, I lose no time."
"Boy," said the old man, "bring on the roast goose.—Now, my good friend, try this choice piece front the breast. And here are sweet sauce, honey, raisins, green peas, and dry figs. Help yourself, and remember that other good things are coming."
Schacabac was almost dead with hunger, but he was too polite not to do as he was bidden.
"Come," said the Barmecide, "have another piece of the roast lamb. Did you ever eat anything so delicious?"

Roast goose and green peas are not very medieval Middle Eastern dishes.

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Another translations says:
"Presently he cried out again, 'Ho boy, serve up the marinated stew with the fatted sand grouse in it'; and he said to my brother, 'Up and eat, O my guest, for truly thou art hungry and needest food.' So my brother began wagging his jaws and made as if champing and chewing, whilst the host continued calling for one dish after another and yet produced nothing save orders to eat."

In yet a third one, the Barmakid asks the poor man how he likes the soup. 

The translators are really creating imaginary food...

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A longer, but slightly different version [http://www.bartleby.com/380/prose/1006.html] has:

"Come," said the Barmecide, "now bring us something to eat, and mind you do not keep us waiting." He had no sooner said this than he began, although nothing had been brought to eat, as if he had taken something in his plate, and pretended to put it to his mouth and chew it, calling out at the same time to my brother, "Eat, I entreat you, my guest; make yourself quite at home. Eat, I beg of you; you seem, for a hungry man, to have but a very poor appetite."
"Pardon me, my lord," replied Schacabac, imitating his motions at the same time very accurately, "you see I lose no time, and understand my business very well."
"What think you of this bread?" said the Barmecide; "don't you find it excellent?"
"In truth, my lord," answered my brother, who in fact saw neither bread nor meat, "I never ate anything more white or delicate."
"Eat your fill, then," rejoined the Barmecide; "the slave who made this excellent bread cost me, I assure you, five hundred pieces of gold." Then continuing to praise the female slave who was his baker, and boasting of his bread, which my brother only devoured in idea, he said, "Boy, bring us another dish. Come, my friend," he continued to my brother, though no other boy appeared, "taste this fresh dish, and tell me if you have ever eaten any boiled mutton and barley better dressed than this."
"Oh, it is admirable!" answered my brother; "I therefore, you see, help myself very plentifully."
"It affords me great pleasure," added the Barmecide, "to see you; and I entreat you not to suffer any of these dishes to be taken away, since you find them so much to your taste."

He presently called for a goose with sweet sauce, and dressed with vinegar, honey, dried raisins, gray peas, and dried figs. This was brought in the same manner as the mutton had been. "This goose is nice and fat," said the Barmecide; "here, take only a wing and a thigh, for you must nurse your appetite, as there are many more things yet to come." In short, he called for many other dishes of different kinds, of which my brother, all the time dying with hunger, continued to pretend to eat. But what he boasted the most of was a lamb that had been fatted with pistachio-nuts, and which he ordered, and was served in the same manner as the other dishes had been. "Now this," said he, "is a dish you never meet with anywhere but at my table, and I wish you to eat your fill of it." As he said this, he pretended to take a piece in his hand, and putting it to my brother's mouth, "Take and eat this," he said, "and you will not think ill of my judgment in boasting of this dish."
My brother held his head forward, opened his mouth, pretended to take the piece, and to chew and swallow it with the greatest pleasure.
"I was quite sure," said the Barmecide, "you would think it excellent."
"Nothing can be more so," replied Schacabac; "in short, no table can be more deliciously served than yours."
"Now bring me the ragout," said the other; "and I do not think you will be less pleased with that than with the lamb. Well, what do you think of it?"
"It is wonderful," answered my brother; "we at the same time have in this the flavor of amber, cloves, nutmegs, ginger, pepper, and sweet herbs, and yet they are all so well balanced that the presence of one does not prevent the flavor of the rest. How delicious it is!"
"Do justice to it, then," cried the Barmecide, "and eat heartily, I beg. Hullo, boy," cried he, raising his voice, "bring us a fresh ragout!"
"Oh, no, if you please," said Schacabac, "for in truth, my lord, I cannot indeed eat any more."

"Let the dessert, then," said the Barmecide, "be served, and the fruit brought." He then waited for a few moments, in order to give the servants time to change the dishes; then, resuming his speech, he said, "Taste these almonds; they are just gathered, and very good." They then both pretended to take the skin off the almonds and eat them. The Barmecide after this invited my brother to partake of many other things. "Here are, you see," said he, "all sorts of fruits, cakes, dried comfits, and preserves; take what you like." Then stretching out his hand as if he was going to give him something, "Take this lozenge," he said, "it is excellent to assist digestion."
Schacabac pretended to take and eat it. "Here is no want of musk in this, my lord."
"I have these lozenges made at home," said the Barmecide; "and for these, as well as everything else in my house, nothing is spared." He still continued to persuade my brother to eat. "For a man," he said, "who was almost starving when he came here, you have really eaten hardly anything."
"My lord," replied Schacabac, whose jaws were weary of chewing nothing, "I assure you I am so full that I cannot eat a morsel more."

NOTES: This version says a lamb fattened with pistachios, where another translation has a chicken stuffed with pistachios. I assume the dish was fistikiyya - "fistik" being pistachios, but other than that the translator had no idea what was in it.
Barley would have been poor man's food - clearly another invention by the translator

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However, after the imaginary feast the Barmakid serves the poor man a real dinner of the dishes that he'd previously pretended, and employs the poor man for the rest of his life. So in the end he wasn't really mean.

The most reliable source would be a translation made well after Arberry's version of al-Baghdadi. Anything from before then, well, most translators were just pulling the dishes, like the Barmakid, out of thin air.

Urtatim