One of our Lebanese friends recently joined us for lunch and kindly brought some Ladies Arms. It’s a funny expression, and conjures up thoughts of body-snatching or mannequin theft. Ladies Arms are delicious pastries, drenched with syrup, and filled with ashta cream. ‘Znoud el sett’ is their name, which translates as the upper arms of a lady. I thoroughly enjoyed them, as they are thoroughly enjoyable, but I did quibble in my mind as to their name.

Especially when I think of a lady from that region called Jael, who seemed to handle a hammer and tent-peg with a bit more in her arms than ashta cream. And when I think of that worthy widow who threw her two copper coins into the temple treasury with gratitude and determination and courage and strength. And when I think of Rebekah drawing gallons of water for thirsty camels, and Rizpah chasing away cruel birds of prey from deceased loved-ones. Ladies Arms indeed!

It’s a wonder the gender police haven’t busted the pastry houses of the world and demanded a name change. And for once I might have to agree. That ‘wife of noble character’ who is described in the last chapter of the Book of Proverbs is celebrated for many reasons, among them being this: ‘She sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks’. And so I raise my sticky fingers to a name-change in respect and defense of the women I know who arms are anything but puff pastries.