The magical world of Arab cuisine

The aroma of buns baking in the oven wafted all the way to my house. Inexorably, my sense of smell ignited like a nautical radar and identified the source of such a pleasant stimulus. The thread of fragrance, in addition to bread, whispered spices – zaatar, to be precise – soaked in olive oil enough for the entire recipe to be drawn in my mind. In less than five minutes, I was already climbing the small green gate that separated my parents' terrace from the neighbors'. It was essential to arrive in time for the distribution of the hot zaatar talami.I am unaware of the reasons, but my street was home to a small Arab community that introduced me at an early age to the glory of Middle Eastern cuisine. My godparents – besides being neighbors – were Lebanese, and since I spent half of my childhood imagining that the stairs of their house were Mount Everest and their living room was the garden of my paleontological adventures, Arabic food tastes like childhood to me.Understanding this culture is easier if starting from two of its pillars: hospitality and community. You know, there is no hospitality without a gastronomic litany, and yet, the Lebanese tell us hold my beer when it comes to going out of their way for guests. “Visitors” for the community is synonymous with “empty your pantry, buy everything from the supermarket, and cook as much as you can.” Who can refuse such a display of love? Not me either.As a child, I thought the habit of overfeeding guests belonged to my godparents – whom I called uncles – and their children – whom I call brothers. When I stepped into some Middle Eastern countries and when nostalgia led me to restaurants like Al Andalus or Al Adonis, I realized that this practice is the rule and that mezze – a variety of appetizers from Arab cuisine – defines mealtime.Mezze is the ultimate summary of the culture: in the center, it is customary to place up to thirty small dishes for the community. Sharing what is laid out on the table is law. Here is a small plate with jocoque, the hummus is served over there. The kofte (spiced ground meat) gets passed around from hand to hand on a tray decorated with lettuce and radish in case someone wants to make a little taco. At the end of the table, someone is trying to fish a ball of kibbeh (spiced ground meat and fried) with a fork, and if they fail, it doesn’t matter: in the center, there is a dish of kibbeh waiting. We all serve ourselves tabbouleh (recipe below) or fattoush (green salad with pieces of bread) and a couple of vine leaves to add some greenery to the plate and let chance smear it with the remnants of baba ganush (eggplant puree).One could get lost in the welcome – in fact, it takes a lot of willpower not to do so – but one must dodge this rookie trap. The main course, which almost always involves lamb or some other protein cooked with spices, awaits. There will be rice or lentils. And yes, one must arrive at dinner.Let’s pause here for a moment. There are few cultures – like French or American – that are fertile in the crafting of good desserts. The Arab culture, influenced by French and Mediterranean cuisine, does wonders with sweets. Generally, their desserts come in small portions so that the act of choosing is not a problem. The queen is honey, orange blossom, jasmine essence, and pistachios, as in a night that smells like Scheherazade. Filo pastry is the angel that guards it all. The kanafeh (semolina cake with cheese), bride's fingers, and baklava (cake with pistachio paste) complete the dream.As expected, my soul brother inherited my godmother's cooking skills. When I visit him, the tradition of his ancestors continues: he empties his fridge to host us. His tabbouleh, in particular, has the power to delight the most skeptical. It’s even better when paired with freshly made hummus and lentils like those from a biblical tale.I won't leave you craving. I managed to get the recipe, and here it is shared. Although it may not taste like a memory, I hope you enjoy it with that intensity.Tabbouleh by Amir Balut (Kitchen Noob):4 large round tomatoes1 large white onion3 bunches of parsley½ bunch of mint¾ cup of fine cracked wheat (bulgur)8 juicy lemons (I use two fewer lemons, but Amir prefers it more citrus)½ cup of extra virgin olive oil1 ½ tablespoons of salt1 tablespoon of pepperIn a medium pot, put enough water and soak the bulgur wheat for 20 minutes until softened. Then, finely chop all the ingredients. There are no shortcuts here; everything must be very small. Mix in a bowl large enough. Add the pepper and salt. Add the lemon juice and olive oil. Stir everything and adjust seasoning if needed. Cover with plastic and let refrigerate for half an hour. Enjoy!