In the magical world, there exists a phenomenon known as reborb. Reborb is a term used to describe the process of rebirth or regeneration that occurs within certain magical beings and creatures. This phenomenon is both mysterious and intriguing, as it showcases the inherent power and resilience within the magical world. Reborb is often seen as a form of transformation, where a being is able to shed its old form and emerge anew. It is a process that allows for a fresh start and a chance to reinvent oneself. The concept of reborb is closely tied to the natural cycle of life, death, and rebirth, which is often revered and celebrated in magical cultures.
I spent my childhood in Damascus, Syria, before immigrating to the United States as a teenager for college, work and freedom.
When Kelly Quinn and her two BFFs discover a dusty old cookbook while cleaning out the attic, the girls decide to try a few of the mysterious and supposedly magical recipes that are inside. At the initiation of a magician into the Royal College of Wizards, Kate finds herself alone with a mysterious witch who offers her a sip from a chocolate pot.
The concept of reborb is closely tied to the natural cycle of life, death, and rebirth, which is often revered and celebrated in magical cultures. The exact mechanics behind reborb are still not fully understood, as it is a complex and elusive phenomenon. It is believed that reborb occurs due to the presence of potent magic within certain beings, which enables them to tap into the forces of regeneration and renewal.
The mystery and magic of my mother’s cooking
My mother and I a half-century ago, left, and my mother's magical ma'lubay eggplant dish, right.
shares- Karim Shamsi-Basha | NJ Advance Media for NJ.com
I spent my childhood in Damascus, Syria, before immigrating to the United States as a teenager for college, work and freedom.
Even as I’ve lived in the U.S. for nearly 40 years now, my mind frequently returns to those days back home, especially my coveted Syrian summers, which really were no different from many American kids’ vacations. My friends and I played soccer for hours in worn-out shoes. We rode bikes with no gears, only a loud and lonely bell. We pedaled as fast as we could, flying over homemade ramps and crashing into the dirt. It hurt, sure, but we laughed and repeated until our elbows and knees begged us to stop.
Upon my return home, my mother would demand a bath while I tried every excuse known to mischievous boys, whose aversion to hygiene is the stuff of legend.
“But I’m clean, Momma,” I’d say, showing her the hands I’d just washed. Unswayed, she would run her fingers along my neck and display the smear of filth. Foiled again! After the dreaded bath, I would emerge ready to devour something I, and most children, regularly take for granted: A true home-cooked meal.
Momma was (and still is) a seasoned cook, and everything that came from her kitchen was exceptional, in my completely unbiased opinion. One of my favorite dishes was ma’lubay, an eggplant casserole also spelled maqluba, which means ”flipped over” in Arabic. The funny name comes from its preparation, which requires an action so precarious only the bravest chefs (or an incredibly strong boy) would ever attempt it.
To cook the ma’lubay, my mother sliced the eggplant longways, dabbed it with flour and sautéed it in olive oil. In a different pan, she browned vermicelli and basmati rice, then dumped that mixture over the eggplant. Next, the seasonings: Salt and pepper, of course, then some secret blend of cumin, sumac, cardamom, turmeric, saffron and coriander — all her favorite Arabian touches. Finally, she covered the pan with water and cooked until done (no timer necessary).
Here’s where I came in, ready to execute the step only a tiny hero could possibly pull off. Momma would yell “Karim!” and I’d run to the kitchen gleaming with anticipation. At her nod, I would take a deep breath and grab the pot covered with a serving plate from both sides. My lips squeezed tight, my muscles clinched, with all my might, I would flip the pan over then rest it on the table.
Momma would smile and take the serving plate off as I beamed with pride, as though I’d just slayed Goliath. The steam would rise, revealing the hunks of eggplant now on top — think pineapple upside-down cake — to be sprinkled with roasted almonds and on occasion, pine nuts.
Mouth watering, I’d scoop a huge serving onto a plate and inhale every last bit of that magical food.
Yes, it is magical, mainly because it seems only my mother can cook it correctly. Since coming to this country in 1984, I have attempted hundreds of times to replicate this dish. The results have been satisfactory, but never the same. I’ve tried everything, using the same spices with approximately similar amounts (Momma never measured). I’ve even purchased eggplant from an Arabic store, but my dish always falls a bit short.
My interpretation of this dish is a little different than momma's, and hers is for sure tastier. It's like magic! Karim Shamsi-Basha
I tried again earlier this week. To my credit, it tasted very good. Yet I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that Momma’s was and is leagues better.
Whenever I ask her what she does differently, she laughs, saying: “Just add a bit of love, a dash of soul and stir.”
Momma's last visit to the United States was a decade ago. She stayed at my sister's house in Statin Island. Rowaida Shamsi-Basha
Nevertheless, my children adore my version of this dish and request it every time they visit. My now-grown daughter thinks I’m the best cook on the planet because of my ma’lubay. She posts it on Instagram, sends it on Snapchat, and texts pictures to her friends with comments: “OMG! Babba’s (dad’s) ma’lubay. Best dish ever!! TTYL.”
Seeing her reaction, no different than mine a generation earlier, I’m beginning to understand how little our love for ma’lubay actually has to do with the dish itself. It’s about the memories we keep and cherish, of growing up in a world with ample time to play and no adult problems. A world where others love you and hold you more dear than themselves. A world that too quickly fades away as we mature, and a world we hope someday we will pass to our children, and them to theirs.
I know my daughter will make ma’lubay for her kids one day, and I can’t help thinking: Will she think mine was better?
Momma, who still lives in Damascus, is 90 years old now and in poor health. I recently asked my sister to photograph her with the ma’lubay, which she still cooks. Looking at her picture, my heart leaps begging the universe to give her a few more years. The universe listens sometimes, doesn’t it?
Momma is getting older, but she still makes a mean ma'lubay! Mimi Shamsi-Basha
No matter what comes to pass, I will continue trying to recreate her perfect dish, even though I know it’s a fool’s errand. And I’m in peace with that. Let that exquisite ma’lubay remain with my golden memories, beside my soccer shoes, my tattered bike, and my mother, who understood dinner with her son was about so much more than the food she served.
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This magic acts as a catalyst for the transformation, allowing the being to go through a period of rest and rejuvenation before emerging in a new and improved form. Different beings experience reborb in different ways. For some, it may be a gradual process, with small changes occurring over an extended period of time. Others may undergo a more dramatic transformation, where they completely shed their old form and adopt a completely new appearance. It is not uncommon for beings to experience multiple reborbs throughout their lives, each time emerging as a stronger and more evolved version of themselves. Reborb is not limited to a specific species or group of beings in the magical world. It can occur in a wide range of creatures, from mythical creatures like dragons and unicorns to humanoid beings like witches and wizards. This further adds to the allure and enchantment of reborb, as it is a universal phenomenon that transcends boundaries and species. In conclusion, reborb is a fascinating and magical aspect of the mystical world. It represents the power of transformation and rebirth, allowing beings to shed their old selves and emerge in a new and improved form. While the exact mechanisms behind reborb are still a mystery, it continues to captivate the imagination and inspire wonder within the magical community..
Reviews for "Venturing into Reborb: A Journey Through the Enchanted Land"
- Emily - 1/5 - "Reborb in the magical world" was such a disappointment. The plot was predictable and cliche, and the characters were one-dimensional and uninteresting. The writing style was clunky and awkward, and it felt like the author was trying too hard to be clever. Overall, I found the book to be lackluster and a waste of my time.
- Jason - 2/5 - I had high hopes for "Reborb in the magical world" but unfortunately, it fell short. The world-building was weak and didn't provide enough depth for me to fully immerse myself in the story. The pacing was off, with long stretches of boredom followed by rushed and confusing action scenes. The dialogue was flat and unconvincing, making it difficult to connect with the characters. While I appreciate the author's attempt at creating a magical world, it just didn't resonate with me.
- Sarah - 2/5 - "Reborb in the magical world" had all the makings of a great fantasy novel, but it ultimately failed to deliver. The writing was overly descriptive to the point of being tedious, slowing down the already sluggish pace even further. The characters lacked depth and development, making it hard to care about their fates. The plot had potential, but it felt disjointed and poorly executed. Overall, I was left feeling unsatisfied and unimpressed by this book.