Summer loading...
Coming to you from Lebanon (again).
BONJOUR! HELLO…
Into my third week in Lebanon, and I’m hitting my stride. It feels so eerily familiar, like I’m home, but it isn’t my home. It’s hard to describe. French greetings mixed with Arabic are falling off my tongue once again as I wander the familiar streets feeling full of nostalgia and regret and hope. Being here is not always easy for me. And now that I’m back in Beirut after 10 days of work in the mountains, I’m in full social mode as my work includes evening tasting events while I’m also seeking out some of many many new businesses. This week I managed to get down to Mar Mikhael and visit the new delicious Bake Lab Counter. I love the three sisters who are behind this brand of what really started as a flour milling business in an industrial neighborhood of Beirut. The Bakalian sisters took their family business to the next level with artisan flour varieties, a bustling baking studio and school, and now a chic bakery that rivals those in Paris. The sourdoughs are creative (earl grey….cumin and nigella seed, anyone?) and the pastries to die for. A truly special experience that’s selling out every day.
On Wednesday evening I joined a small group at Josephine’s Malfoof flower studio and event space. It reminded me so much of my kitchen atelier in its character and purpose - such wonderful old Lebanese character with the tryptic windows and gorgeous tile floors. Farrah Berrou, whose substack I’ve shared with you before, presented two short films about her family’s land, their olive groves, in Southern Lebanon that has been truncated by the Israeli border wall. They were due to harvest their crop on October 7 when the conflict began and Farrah explored the future of their heritage, their home, their deep connection to the land in her films. The viewing was followed by a simple dinner featuring wild greens foraged in the South, labneh, zaatar, saj hot off the grill, and delicious kamounet banadora. It was a pleasure to be surrounded by like-minded, thoughtful people for whom ingredients and terroir and place and what we consume are also crucial. I used to buy bouquets for our apartment from Josephine (Malfoof - it means cabbage in Arabic) when she was just starting out and it was a joy to see her endeavor has grown and is successful.
Beit Noun is a beauty and the menu I’m implementing for Summer is 75% created and being worked on by the kitchen chefs while I’m down in Beirut for the next couple of weeks. It gives them the opportunity to feel at ease with the recipes before I add the final pieces to their workload. There are a handful of seasonal mains that have been added to the Supervega menu for Spring including a cherry tomato spaghetti topped with an entire decadent ball of burrata and a beef dish with radishes, tomatoes, and corn that’s very special. Transatlantic is soft opening next week, so if you’re in town please come by and say hi! I’d love to see you. We’re in the final stages of tweaking the menu and plating and working as a team to make sure things are working as well as they should. We’ve done a handful of friends and family events in the dining room and it’s a thrill to get feedback and know we’re almost at the finish line.
ON MY RADAR
Oh my goodness! People are asking their dinner party guests to contribute to the food costs via Venmo?? I can’t think of anything more gauche, more inhospitable. It’s the opposite of how people entertain here, where hospitality can be described as aggressive. I believe if you can’t front the food costs yourself, either suggest a potluck option, don’t host the party, or make something you can afford. What do you think? While I haven’t been writing as much about the genocide in Gaza recently, my thoughts are never far from the suffering the Palestinians are enduring. A recent article in Saveur talks about the political act of cooking and cookbooks: “The kitchen is not always an escape from the realities of the world. For many, cooking is an inherently political act, and any dish can represent an attempt at self-determination.” I’ve got a project in the works that expands on and develops these themes, I hope. I’m also eager to get my hands on Karen Fisher’s Zaatari cookbook, mentioned in the article, which archives food and recipes of the largest Syrian refugee camp in the world (and I’m quite certain that the refugees would rather loose a limb than ever Venmo someone for the cost of the food they’ve shared with their guests).
I discovered a new website called Jenny targeted at women my age who were fans of Sassy Magazine (RIP) back in the 90s and are now facing perimenopause, empty nests, and midlife fashion quandaries. I love it. A couple of recent favorite articles: Pushing 50 and Still Fucking Up and I Feel Bad for Feeling Bad About My Neck. Hear! Hear! Watching Sugar on Apple TV and loving the mood. Similarly, I think Maya Rudoph’s show Loot on the same platform is getting better with each episode. Grub Street writes about Gabrielle Hamilton’s Prune Restaurant’s unequalled weekend brunch. The article claims patrons didn’t mind standing in line for a table at the tiny special spot….and all I could do was chuckle as I remembered my dad bitching about waiting for them to open so we could dine among the gods of New York City on that beautiful September Sunday morning so many years ago. I miss that New York
ON MY MIND
As my whirlwind month in Lebanon continues, I find myself up and down the coastal highway North from Beirut much more often than I’d like. My husband would tell you that we had some of our fiercest battles on this stretch of road as I felt in constant fear for my life on an expanse of asphalt without any lane markings and certainly no drivers who would abide by them anyway. It is more reminiscent of Mario Kart than any road you and I might be more familiar with. Last week, later than I’d been out in a long time, on a night hotter than any of August, I was in a taxi, all windows down as the little hatchback struggled to get up the steep roads back to Mechmech, while fancy cars with their hefty horsepower flew by us with a roar, making our little car shudder. Meanwhile, my baby of a driver spoke to me at length in Arabic about I’m not sure what, shouting over the hot wind, crossing himself vigorously as we passed churches on our route (Mar Charbel, the monastery to the patron saint of Lebanon got multiple crosses). There’s a belief in fate, a letting go and putting yourself in God’s hands that I wish I could ascribe to, but just can’t (hence the spats with my husband). I gasp, and brace myself, and have multiple mini-aneurisms every time I’m on this highway, as the cars are close enough to each other at 100 km an hour to reach out and touch. I wish I could let go, I’m just not willing to yet.
WHAT TO COOK NOW
Pictured above are just a few of the recipes I created for the menu at Beit Noun. They are a proud reflection of the terroir surrounding the village of Mechmech where the traditional red-tiled roofed home is located. Fruits and herbs and dairy and olives from the farms perched among the ancient stone terraces that zig zag across the landscape made for the most inspiring time in the kitchen. I snuck in some dried lavender and arak and lots and lots of dukkha into the menu and encourage you to do the same with my sweet provencal dukkha recipe, switch out the figs for apricots in my recipe for grilled halloumi with a rosemary lavender syrup for a lovely brunch treat, use your best local asparagus for this qareesha asparagus flatbread, and use up the end of season kale with some new season plums for this delicious salad.
More culinary conversations coming your way soon...
xx CSJ
Love seeing what’s on your radar Sally! And wtf to Venmo contributions! 😄