Palestinians don’t cook for two... they cook for twenty
Chef Sami Tamimi and food writer Tara Wigley talk to ELLA WALKER about their new cookbook, Falastin
FALASTIN is as much a portal to a place as it is a cookbook. “In this part of the world, unfortunately, everything you touch or say, turns into politics,” says Jerusalem-born chef Sami Tamimi of his homeland – and that very much includes 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 groundbreaking debut cookery book, to which Falastin is a companion piece), an in-depth knowledge of Israeli-Palestinian relations is not vital: “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 Palestine”. The collection is strewn with stories of Palestinian producers, 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 see that life goes on and people are making a living and doing interesting stuff with food,” says Tara. “There’s a world there and a life we want people to explore, eat from and celebrate.”
Palestinians, says Sami, are aware that tourists take “religious buses to visit the holy sites, but are not eating or stopping there.
“They never see the real life,” he says.
As such, “all the good food’s happening in people’s houses,” says Tara – and between the profiles and recipes in Falastin, they hope to bridge the gap, by introducing us to Palestinian food and flavours, while showcasing the glorious things Palestinians do on a daily basis.
Mainly though, “it’s about getting everyone to the table and sharing,” says Tara.
The duo have known each other for around a decade. “I spent a couple of days in the kitchen with Sami and I remember him phoning Yotam, asking, ‘Who is this girl? Where has she come from? She is not a professional chef’,” recalls Tara mischievously. “The first time I tried preserved lemon around Sami, I thought it tasted like soap. 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: Tara, the home cook who is still discovering Palestinian cuisine, and Sami the professional chef, who is “rooted in Palestine”.
The book’s such a love letter home, looking back to this country he left.” It’s a “tussle” notes Tara, but one that’s “useful” for the reader.
And yes, they have been known to argue, 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 Tara.
“It’s shocking, we need to be able to campaign to get falafel only freshly fried,” says Sami.
“They fry it in front of you so it’s piping hot – this is the way we eat it!”
“How Palestinians eat is at its core,” notes Tara, and Sami adds: “You don’t cook for two people, you cook for 20. It’s open house – you never know who is going to come and it’s a big no-no not to have enough food for everybody.
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 help themselves,” says Sami. “There’s no ‘my’ plate or ‘your’ plate – this is what is wonderful about it.”