Life

Palestinian cuisine: You don't cook for two people, you cook for 20

Chef Sami Tamimi and food writer Tara Wigley talk to Ella Walker about their new cookbook of Palestinian cuisine, Falastin

Palestinian chef Sami Tamimi and English food writer Tara Wigley, ahtuors of Falastin: A Cookbook
Palestinian chef Sami Tamimi and English food writer Tara Wigley, ahtuors of Falastin: A Cookbook

FALASTIN is as much a portal to a place as it is a cookbook. "In this part of the world, unfortunately, everything that you touch or say, it turns into politics," says Jerusalem-born chef Sami Tamimi of his homeland – and that even extends, very much, in fact, to the origin of hummus.

But, adds Tara Wigley, his British-born co-author (both are long-term members of the Ottolenghi brand and family – Tamimi co-wrote Jerusalem, Yotam Ottolenghi's ground-breaking debut cookery book, to which Falastin is a companion piece), an in-depth knowledge of Israeli-Palestinian relations is not vital to pick up the book and start cooking.

Instead, "people who are interested in food – beautiful aubergines and olive oils – should be reading this."

She calls Falastin a "window through which to see modern day Palestine" but notes that she and Tamimi also "want people to read it and think about something other than the politics. It's everything and it's both – there's never a simple answer."

The collection is strewn with profiles that tell stories of Palestinian producers and makers, from a granny making cheese in a tumble dryer, to a woman who runs cookery classes in a refugee camp, and a man who sells the nuttiest, silkiest tahini.

"Everyone's got this strong picture in their head of what living in a refugee camp means, or what Gaza means, and actually we want people to read our book and see that life goes on and people are making a living and doing interesting stuff with food," says Wigley. "There's a world there and a life that we want people to explore and go to, eat from and celebrate."

Palestinians, says Tamimi, are very aware that tourists take "religious buses to go and visit the holy sites, but they're not eating or stopping there.

"They never see the real life," he says. "You're whisked in, whisked out and then you end up in the very touristy shop – and that's it. You don't see anything."

As such, "all the good food's happening in people's houses," says Wigley – and between the profiles and the recipes in Falastin, they're hoping to bridge that gap, by introducing people to Palestinian food and flavours, while showcasing all the glorious things real Palestinians are doing on a daily basis.

Mainly though, "it about getting everyone to the table and sharing and eating rather than falling over themselves with semantics," says Wigley.

Like much of the food of the Levant, Palestinian fare "tastes wonderful" but, admits Tamimi, is "very earthy, a little bit brown and beige". So while Ottolenghi wasn't involved directly in the book, a little Ottolenghi flair "to make everything colourful and appetising with garnish and herbs, colour" was inevitable.

Tamimi and Wigley have known each other for around a decade. "I spent a couple of days in the kitchen with Sami and I remember hearing him phoning Yotam, going, 'Who is this girl? Where has she come from? She is not a professional chef'," recalls Wigley mischievously. "The first time I tried preserved lemon around Sami, I just thought it tasted disgusting, like soap. He was like, 'She doesn't even like preserved lemon, who is she?'

"Little did I know that was the beginning of my culinary epiphany."

Working on Falastin together did, she notes, seem a "possibly incongruous fit" at first because "I ain't Palestinian". But their combined, yet different perspectives, she says, make it work: Wigley, the home cook who is still discovering Palestinian cuisine, and Tamimi the professional chef, who is "rooted in Palestine. [The book's] such a love letter home to him, looking back to this country that he left." It's a "tussle" notes Wigley, but one that's "useful" for the reader.

And yes, they have been known to argue – "lots! We had rows and tears. But we had fun," admits Tamimi.

"We've got very different dispositions," explains Wigley. "I'm running at that pace, and Sami's over there chilling."

But on some issues, they are very much in agreement, like supermarket imitations of falafel. "It's just awful if people think that's falafel – and hummus should be warm!" says Wigley.

"I literally cringe," adds Tamimi with a shake of his head. "It's just shocking, we need to be able to campaign to get falafel only freshly fried. They fry it in front of you so it's piping hot – this is the way we eat it!"

While the book is not a faithful representation of traditional Palestinian food, how Palestinians eat is at its core.

"You don't cook for two people, you cook for 20 people," says Tamimi. "It's an open house – you never know who is going to come and it's a big no-no not to have enough food for everybody.

"Every Palestinian house has a massive freezer that's full of food ready to go," he adds.

Being able to lay on a spread at a moment's notice is the norm – think pickles, olives and thick, green, grassy Palestinian olive oil, honey, cheese, bread, salads, seasonal mains, dips, shatta (a chilli condiment). "And people basically help themselves. There's no 'my' plate or 'your' plate – this is what is wonderful about it," says Tamimi.

"It's lovely, eating with your hands, using the bread to scoop it up – the bread becomes a utensil – this is the opposite of uptight," says Wigley. "It's the beauty of traditions actually being enacted in every house."

:: Falastin: A Cookbook by Sami Tamimi and Tara Wigley, photography by Jenny Zarins, is published by Ebury Press, priced £27. Below are two recipes from the book for you to try.

CHICKEN MUSAKHAN

(Serves four)

1 chicken (about 1.7kg), divided into 4 pieces or chicken supremes (between 4 and 6, depending on size), skin on, if you prefer

120ml olive oil, plus 2-3tbsp extra, to finish

1tbsp ground cumin

3tbsp sumac

1/2tsp ground cinnamon

1/2tsp ground allspice

30g pine nuts

3 large red onions, thinly sliced 2-3mm thick (500g)

4 flatbreads (such as Arabic flatbread or naan bread) (330g)

5g parsley leaves, roughly chopped

Salt and black pepper

To serve:

300g Greek-style yoghurt

1 lemon, quartered

Method:

Preheat the oven to 200C fan. Place the chicken in a large bowl with two tablespoons of oil, one teaspoon of cumin, one and a half teaspoons of sumac, the cinnamon, allspice, one teaspoon of salt and black pepper. Mix well, then spread out on a parchment-lined baking tray. Roast until cooked through – about 30 minutes if starting with supremes and up to 45 minutes if starting with the whole chicken, quartered. Remove from the oven and set aside. Don't discard juices.

Meanwhile, put two tablespoons of oil into a large saute pan on a medium heat. Cook the pine nuts for two to three minutes, stirring constantly, until golden brown. Transfer to a bowl lined with kitchen paper.

Add the remaining 60ml of oil to the pan, along with the onions and three quarters of a teaspoon of salt. Return to a medium heat for about 15 minutes, stirring from time to time, until the onions are completely soft and pale golden but not caramelised.

Add two tablespoons of sumac, the remaining cumin and a grind of black pepper and mix. Remove from the heat.

When ready to assemble the dish, set the oven to a grill setting and slice or tear the bread into quarters or sixths. Place them under the grill for two to three minutes, to crisp up, then arrange on a large platter. Top the bread with half the onions, followed by all the chicken and any chicken juices left in the tray. Spoon the remaining onions over the top and sprinkle with the pine nuts, parsley, one and a half teaspoons of sumac and a final drizzle of olive oil. Serve with the yoghurt and a wedge of lemon.

ROASTED COD WITH A CORIANDER CRUST

(Serves four)

60ml olive oil

4 garlic cloves, crushed

50g coriander, finely chopped

21/2tsp fish spice mix (see below)

1/2tsp chilli flakes

4 large cod loin (or another sustainably sourced white fish), skin on (about 700g)

4 large fresh bay leaves (optional)

2 lemons: cut one into 8 very thin slices, and quarter the other lengthways into wedges to serve

About 4 tbsp/65g tahini sauce (optional -– see below) to serve

Salt and black pepper

For the fish spice mix:

(Makes just over 2tbsp – just stir all ingredients together)

2tsp ground cardamom

2tsp ground cumin

1tsp paprika

2tsp ground turmeric

For the tahini sauce:

(Makes 1 medium jar)

150g tahini

2tbsp lemon juice

1 garlic clove, crushed

Salt

Method:

Make the tahini sauce: Mix together all the ingredients, along with 120ml of water and quarter teaspoon of salt. If it is too runny, add a bit more tahini. If it is too thick, add a bit more lemon juice or water. You want the consistency to be like that of a smooth, runny nut butter. It will thicken up when left to sit around, so just give it a stir and some more lemon juice or water every time you use it.

Preheat the oven to 230C fan. Put two tablespoons of oil into a small saucepan and place on a medium-low heat. Add the crushed garlic and cook for 10 seconds, then add the coriander, fish spice mix, chilli flakes, a quarter teaspoon of salt and a grind of black pepper. Cook for four to five minutes, stirring frequently, for the garlic to really soften, then remove from the heat.

Place the cod in a parchment-lined roasting dish, skin side down, and brush with two tablespoons of oil. Season lightly with salt and pepper then spoon the coriander mix on top of each fillet. Spread it out so that the whole top is covered, then top each one with a bay leaf, if using, along with two slices of lemon. Roast for seven to eight minutes, or until the fish is cooked through.

Serve at once, with about a tablespoon of tahini sauce drizzled over, if using, and a wedge of lemon alongside.