Ramadan Arabian Nights 2025 : The Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima “ A deadly Mouth Blocker ” EP.10

Ramadan Kareem

We know the secret of the treasure hidden in the house of Fatima, Halima and Karima from their father Ka’b al-Ghazal last night, we will know tonight Reema’s next move, but first a little chitchat.

Without spoilers, tonight you will hear and read those two words “Sadd al-Hanak” or “Mouth Blocker”. This is not a fictional dish, it is actually an authentic Egyptian dessert with a long history.

Sadd al-Hanak (سد الحنك) is a traditional Egyptian dessert known for its rich, dense texture. The name literally means "Mouth Blocker" because it's so thick and filling. It's made primarily with flour, butter, sugar, and milk, creating a smooth, pudding-like consistency.

The dish dates back to the Ottoman period and became a staple in Egyptian households. Its name, which literally means "Mouth Blocker," humorously refers to its thick and heavy nature—it fills you up quickly and makes you quiet!

It was often considered a winter dessert because it’s rich and provides warmth and energy, much like halawa or basbousa.

Sadd al-Hanak was popular among both the wealthy and the working class. The wealthy could afford to add nuts, spices, and even cream, while the common folk made it simply with flour, sugar, butter, and milk. It was sometimes called "the dessert of the broke" because it could be made with basic, affordable ingredients found in any home.

The name itself became a joke in Egyptian culture, often used to describe something that makes people speechless—whether from its thickness or from being too full to talk. Some old Egyptian proverbs and sayings mention it humorously, implying that after eating Sadd al-Hanak, you wouldn't be able to argue or complain!

Now here is the recipe itself : 

Ingredients:

• 1 cup flour
• ½ cup butter or ghee
• 1 cup sugar
• 2 cups milk
• ½ teaspoon vanilla (optional)
• Ground cinnamon (for garnish)
• Chopped nuts (optional, for topping)

Instructions:

1. Roast the Flour: In a pan over medium heat, melt the butter or ghee. Add the flour and stir continuously until it turns golden brown and gives off a nutty aroma. Be careful not to burn it.
2. Prepare the Syrup: In a separate pot, heat the milk and sugar together until the sugar dissolves completely. Do not let it boil too much. Add vanilla if using.
3. Combine: Gradually pour the warm milk mixture into the roasted flour, stirring constantly to prevent lumps. Keep stirring until the mixture thickens to a smooth, dough-like consistency.
4. Serve: Pour into serving dishes while warm. Sprinkle with cinnamon and nuts if desired.
5. Enjoy: Let it cool slightly before eating—it will be thick and rich, perfect for a comforting dessert!

So without further delay, here is the 682nd episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the tenth night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.

Episode Ten : Sadd El-Hanak

And when the 682nd night had come, and the following night began, King Shahryar took his seat as he had the night before. Barely a moment had passed before Scheherazade arrived. She opened the gates of enchantment for him, spread the table of stories before him, and began to narrate as if pouring fine wine into a golden cup.

“It has reached me, O wise and just King, that when Reema feared that this marriage might take place, she hastened to object. At that moment, Ka'b El-Ghazal recounted to her the tale of Abu Farrag, who had once appeared before their ancestors in the guise of a wandering dervish.

The dervish spoke of signs, symbols, and hidden meanings, then pointed to an old chest that had remained in its place for countless years. He declared, 'Beneath this chest lies a faithful guardian!' And when they lifted the chest, they found a two-horned serpent coiled beneath it.

But before they could react, the dervish called to the serpent, and it obeyed him, winding itself around his arm as if it were merely an ornament. He left them in shock and wonder, saying:

'I am Abu Farrag. Fortune favors not the one in need. Beneath this house lies a treasure buried since the days of Qarun. It shall not be found except by the one who desires it least. And as for those who seek it, they shall never attain it.'

When Ka'b El-Ghazal reached this point in his tale, a storm of questions descended upon him. Reema turned to him, her curiosity ablaze.

'What a strange tale, Sheikh Ka'b El-Ghazal! But I have a question...'

'Questions? I have told you all I know.'

'A mind never ceases to wander, my father. This is an old story, buried beneath the passing of days. Why, then, has it resurfaced today?'

'Indeed, every day I find new people circling the house, eyeing it as if it were made of gold. Can you believe, my child, that they now value it at two thousand, when it is worth no more than fifty?'

'And you still refuse to sell it, father? Why?' One of his daughters wondered

'And why should I sell it? For what purpose?'

'Really,tell me honestly—do you, yourself, believe in the treasure?' Reema wickedly asked

'What kind of talk is this, Reema? These are the words of a wandering dervish—they could be truth, or they could be nothing at all.'

'Then why do you refuse to sell the house?'

'To sell it? For what? If they offer two thousand for something worth fifty, there must be a reason. I will not sell the house.'

'Well, then, we have only two choices: sell the house and enjoy the money, or dig beneath it and see if the treasure is real.'

'Banish the thought of selling. It was my father's dying wish that I keep this house.'

'Fine, then let us dig beneath it and see if the treasure exists!'

'Even if a treasure were hidden here, we would never find it. Have you forgotten Abu Farrag's words? "Fortune favors not the one in need. The one who searches shall never find."'

'Then neither can we sell it nor can we seek it...'

'When I die, you may do as you please.'

'Oh God forbid! May you live long! We are only speaking of the money, not of losing you.' Reema said

'Are we so miserable,? Do we not live in comfort? May God bless us with what we have. We have never lacked anything, except for her, whom we lost...'

One of the girls said 'God bless her soul. She was taken from us, but in return, we were given you, auntie Reema, as our consolation.'

'Oh, do not remind me of her,' sighed Ka'b El-Ghazal. 'You cannot imagine what life was like when she was with us. Our old home was always filled with music and joy. Not a day passed without a song, not a night fell without a melody. But since she left us, silence has weighed upon our walls. For two years now, our house has stood mute.'

'And tonight, father?'

'Tonight, my heart hears a sorrowful tune...'

'Then play it, father. Let us hear it.'

'fetch my rababa.'

'And what will you do, father?'

'You will see, my child. Gather round, all of you.'

'Come, girls, pick up your instruments. Tonight, we shall play the Melody of Sorrow.'

'Ready? Let us begin...'

And so, the house, long silent, was once again filled with music. But the strings of the rababa did not sing of joy, nor of love lost. Instead, they whispered of buried treasures, of ancient dervishes, and of fortunes that would never be found...

The cold night pressed against the walls of their hiding place as Mishkah faced his ex-wife once more. Her eyes glinted with calculation, and she gestured for him to listen.

"Reema, why did you lock the door?" Mishkah asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

"Because we must not be disturbed," Reema replied. "Listen to me carefully. We need to keep this between us. I brought you thirty crowns."

Mishkah waved a hand dismissively. "Forget the crowns. We have a greater problem."

"What problem?" Reema asked, eyes narrowing.

"Ka‘b al-Ghazal… he is as good as dead."

Reema drew a sharp breath. "What do you mean?"

"He refuses to sell the house to anyone. And at the same time, he won’t let us dig for the treasure buried beneath it."

Reema folded her arms. "That is nothing new."

"But today, something changed," Mishkah continued.

"Changed? How?"

"His daughters—Karima, Halima, and Fatima. Beautiful girls like that will soon attract suitors. And when the suitors come, they will bring their families. Soon the house will be filled, and we will lose our chance."

Reema sighed, shaking her head. "I told you from the start not to let this drag on. Everything must be handled at the right time."

"So what will you do?" Mishkah asked.

Reema’s lips curled into a smile. "I will take care of him."

"How?"

"Leave that to me," she said, her voice low. "Just bring me what I ask for."

She leaned in, whispering the list “Three dirhams of trembling dust, two ounces of bitter thorn seeds, a pinch of weeping herb, handful of snake’s whisper, a scrap of rhino’s shadow, a sprinkle of ghost root and a shard of forgotten bark”

Mishkah grimaced. "That stuff tastes vile."

Reema laughed softly. "The taste will be masked with honey, and the scent will be drowned in cinnamon and cloves. No one will suspect a thing."

"Are you certain this will work?" Mishkah asked.

Reema arched a brow. "You doubt me? This is my craft."

He hesitated, then asked, "And what about his daughters?"

"What about them?"

"Shouldn’t we rid ourselves of them too?"

Reema’s expression darkened. "You fool! If they die as well, people will grow suspicious. If only he dies, it will seem natural. But if his daughters perish with him, questions will be raised."

Mishkah nodded slowly. "I see your point."

"Good," Reema said. "Now go and fetch what I need. Quickly! By the time you return, I will have prepared the honey and oil."

Mishkah exhaled, glancing at her one last time before turning away. "Alright. I’m going. I’ll lock the door behind me."

"Eat, eat, Fatima," Reema urged gently. "Finish what’s on your plate, Halima."

"Auntie Reema, may your hands be blessed!" Halima exclaimed, savoring every bite.

"You like it, my dear?" Reema smiled, watching them.

"Auntie, what is this dish called?" Fatima asked between bites.

"It’s called Sadd al-Hanak, my dear," Reema replied. "The warmth of the cloves and cinnamon is what makes you want to lick your fingers afterward."

"Oh, we’ve eaten so much!" Karima laughed. "We’re full!"

"No, no," Reema chided playfully. "A full belly makes for a warm heart. We sat down together, and we must finish together."

"But, Auntie, there’s no more space!"

"I’ve divided the portions, my dear," Reema said firmly. "What’s before you is yours, and that plate over there is for your father. No one is to touch it."

"Alright, we’ll finish our share, as long as that is his," Karima assured her.

"Good girl," Reema cooed. "My dear ones, you don’t yet know how much you mean to me."

At that moment, Ka‘b al-Ghazal entered, stretching his arms.

"My daughters—Fatima, Karima, Halima. And my wife, Reema. Or should I say, your Auntie Reema," he chuckled. "What feast have you prepared today?"

"A dish fit for kings, Father," Fatima said, her eyes sparkling.

"You’re telling me about cooking, child?" Ka‘b laughed. "But wait… have you all eaten already?"

"We saved you your portion, Father," Halima said, passing him the untouched plate.

"You should have waited for me!" Ka‘b muttered, taking a seat.

"The girls were starving, Ka‘b al-Ghazal," Reema said, pouring him a drink. "But now, it’s your turn. Eat."

He picked up his spoon, breathing in the warm scent. "What is this, Reema?"

"Sadd al-Hanak," she said. "Try it. I promise you’ll like it."

Ka‘b took a bite. The rich sweetness, the hint of cloves and cinnamon—it was unlike anything he had ever tasted before.

"Delicious," he murmured. "Truly delicious."

"See? The spices make you want to lick your fingers," Reema said with a sly smile.

"Not just my fingers—my whole hands! Even my feet!" he laughed, taking another bite.

The meal continued, laughter filling the room. As the night stretched on, conversation faded into a comfortable silence, and one by one, sleep overtook them.

But when morning arrived, and the sun’s golden light streamed through the windows, Ka‘b al-Ghazal did not rise to greet the day.

Fatima, the first to wake up, went to rouse him. "Father…? Father, wake up."

She shook his arm. His body was still.

And here, Scheherazade realized the dawn had come, and she fell silent, leaving the tale untold.

Here is the 10th episode of our tale televised

Till next night inshallah

You can check previous Ramadan Arabian Nights here.

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