"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 love eggplants! Until a few years ago you couldn’t hear me say this sentence because of the simple reason that I didn’t eat eggplants, at all. “Eggplants in tahini is just like eating tahini, you won’t even taste them,” my better half would say “so why eat eggplants?” I’d answer “I’ll eat tahini.”
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.
There are people that when you tell them that there’s kubbeh soup for dinner, immediately you see a craving look in their eyes, and you can almost hear their stomach rumbling. One of these people is my better half
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.
"Try it, at least one time, and if you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else” mom would try to convince me, but I stubbornly refused to even taste. “ I put only things you love: potatoes, carrots…” she said,