A few months ago, we had some friends visiting and I suddenly fell into a baking mood. This is not my typical state of mind. I do cook, and some people may say that I cook well but baking is another story. However, friends were coming over and my mother always said that you just can’t have tea without cookies.
"We are going to visit grandma,” said dad. We were thrilled, my brother and I loved these visits. Grandma lived on the other side of town. Back then, it took a ride on two different buses and quite a long walk to get there.
"Mom bought those cookies that we love!” my younger brother howled at me as I entered home back from school. “How do you know?” I asked “it’s not passover yet” “I saw mom take them out of the shopping bag” he answered. My taste buds responded immediately and demanded immediate satisfaction. “Where is mom?” I asked, trying to avoid drooling.
"So you really know how to cook?” asked Jezebel (an invented name) when we sat in the early hours of the morning in a small restaurant in Paris after a long, alcohol-filled night. I vaguely remembered that we spoke about food and cooking in the evening. I guess the alcohol in my blood made me feel at least like Gordon Ramsay because I answered “yes, I’m a great cook” trying to impress Jezebel.
I spent many fun-filled days at my childhood-friend Dan’s house. One of the times, his mom offered us something to eat and asked if I like casserole. “Very much” I answered. Moroccan casserole was one of my favorite dishes.
"The soup of all soups,” that’s how my dad used to call the harira soup. “Did grandpa really say that?” asks my younger son, “not really” I answer, “it’s my take on his his words, but that’s what he meant”. In my childhood home, soup was a must at every dinner,
Chicken and chickpeas, both of them together or individually are ingredients that I like in almost every form.This was probably why these ingredients were featured in my mother's cookbook. When you grow up in a house with four siblings and two working parents, cooking daily meals to everyone’s taste is almost impossible.