Buried deep within the Judean Hills, nestled amongst a courtyard of seasonal fruit trees, sits a restaurant painted the shade of a bright, blue, Israeli sky. This hidden treasure is Madja, a small eatery operated out of the home of married couple Michal Baranes and Yakub Barhum (“Jerusalem.”). Located in the Arab village Ein Rafa, Madja is the perfect reflection of its owners, for neither the restaurant nor its creators are the common Israeli pairing: Michal is Jewish, while her husband, Yakub, is Muslim—but their food is a blend of both. Though in some instances, such a difference in theology might produce tension between a couple, Michal and Yakub are unified in their belief that they should respect and support one another’s differences.

This sense of harmony emerges through Majda’s menu, in recipes like their non-kosher shrimp falafel, and the myriad of non-halal wines that are available for tasting, for the restaurant is not biased towards one religion or the other. The elimination of both Jewish and Muslim dietary laws from Madja’s recipes produces dishes that are truly a blend of both cultures while opening opportunities for endless culinary possibilities. Michal and Yakub’s restaurant takes a political stand on its plates, and peacefully vocalizes a perspective on Israeli cuisine often commonly silenced by prejudice, feuding, and frustration. Due to the vast variety of religious and political backgrounds that establish themselves in Israel’s population, Israeli cuisine emerges as more than food, but a statement of who one is as a person, and what they believe in relation to their nation. Israeli cuisine is a representation of political and religious affiliation, a manifestation of the underlying tension that flourishes throughout the nation, and a symbol of the division that has evolved into unification.

Israel’s cuisine is best understood through the exploration of its national history, which is rooted in religion. Deemed “The Holy Land,” Israel is home to numerous locations considered sacred by Jews, Christians, and Muslims alike. The Bible, the Torah, and the Qur’an trace the ancestry of Israel as a people and a nation back to one location: Jerusalem. Both Jews and Muslims consider Jerusalem holy, for Jews view Jerusalem as a place ordained by God that they should establish His name, while Muslims are drawn to Jerusalem as they believe the city to be the last known territory the Prophet Muhammed inhabited before he descended into heaven (Little).

While the Torah and the Qur’an differ on which people possess God’s favor, both Jewish and Muslim Arab-Palestinian people connect their religious beliefs to their political perspectives of Israel as a nation, for both Jews and Muslims feel entitled to the land as a part of their inheritance. Since its establishment in 1948, following the Jewish persecution in World War II and Jewish diaspora, Israel’s occupation as a Jewish dominated nation has resulted in a continuous uproar from Arab-Palestinians who feel they should obtain control over the nation. As a result, both sides often resort to violence to drown out the conflicting parties. Since Israel as a nation places so much emphasis upon the importance of religion, and religion in relation to politics, it is only natural that these beliefs translate into Israeli cuisine.

The animosity that fuels the division throughout Israel manifests itself in the nation’s capital, Jerusalem, which is separated into four quarters based on religion. The Jewish Quarter, the Muslim Quarter, the Armenian Quarter, and the Christian Quarter are all a reflection of the people who abide in these locations, and the political and religious differences that the nation emphasizes so greatly. Ironically, in a nation fueled by the critical awareness of its citizens’ diversity, the one topic Israeli people seem to agree upon is food. Although there are slight variations in recipes when it comes to ingredients, for the most part, Israeli citizens enjoy the same dishes. Jerusalem’s divided landscape serves as a metaphor for the entire nation of Israel, for although these religious and political beliefs war with one another, the same culinary themes build a bridge between such distant worlds.

This bridge weaves through each quarter of Jerusalem, with the same dishes often reemerging throughout Israel nationwide: vegetable salads, breads, olives, falafel, and hummus. For example, in the Jewish Quarter, after visiting the Western Wall, famished tourists might wander into The Quarter Café to discover a menu featuring over 18 types of salads, with vegetables ranging from carrots, to cabbage, to marinated cucumbers and tomatoes.

Similarly, in the most heavily populated of all four quarters, Jerusalem’s Muslim Quarter bustles with street vendors offering a variety of fresh, local produce. The Muslim Quarter’s crowded alleyways lead to hole-in-the-wall restaurants like Abu Shukri, which although famous for their hummus, serve large portions of salad with every meal—salad consisting of marinated cucumbers, tomatoes, and cabbage. Diners who associated The Quarter Café’s and Abu Shukri’s cuisines with their quarters alone might perceive these restaurants as solely Jewish and solely Arab-Palestinian or Muslim. While The Quarter Café might be considered a Jewish restaurant, and while Abu Shukri is known for the strong Arabian influence upon its menu, both restaurants fall underneath the realm of Israeli cuisine. If we look more at the food these establishments serve, rather than where the restaurants are located, we can visualize a clear depiction of their similarities, and the cuisine that serves as a barrier defying force.

Aside from Israeli cuisine’s emphasis upon harnessing local produce, and incorporating regional resources into the creation of its cuisine, much of Israeli’s common dishes correspond directly with the wide spectrum of religiosity that floods throughout the nation. Certain religions implement dietary restrictions into their theology, such as is the case with Judaism and Islam.

Kashrut is the Jewish dietary law that determines, in accordance with the Torah, what foods are acceptable and prohibited to be eaten, and how those acceptable foods should be prepared to be suitable for eating (“Kashrut: Jewish Dietary Law.”). The term “kosher” refers to foods that meet the Kashrut’s criteria and are sufficient for consumption.

Similarly, Islamic dietary law determines in accordance with the Qur’an what foods are prohibited, and what foods are allowed for Muslims to eat, as well as the preparational methods of these foods (“Halal.”). The term “halal” refers to these acceptable foods, which, unlike in the Kashrut, include all seafoods. Kashrut overlaps with Islamic dietary law in the areas of pork, as both laws place restrictions upon this type of meat. The similarities between both Jewish and Islamic dietary restrictions result in similarities in the types of foods people of these religions can eat, thus establishing a commonality in dishes frequently consumed throughout Israel.

Dishes like vegetable salads, which are eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner in both Jewish and Muslim households, arise as a familiar, neutral ground between the religions. Likewise, restaurants like The Quarter Café and Abu Shukri both serve an array of salads—though they are separated geographically by location to reinforce their differences, the physical food that greets customers with its fresh, colorful vibrance is the same.

While Israeli cuisine offers dishes that create a linking pattern amongst religions, how Israeli cuisine is eaten provides an insight into the cuisine’s unifying power as well. Israeli cuisine is prideful and passionate, but far from pretentious, which is reflected in its restaurants. Although Israel offers an assortment of fine dining establishments, most Israeli restaurants diners might encounter do not feature stereotypical white tablecloths or romantic, candlelit rooms. This is due primarily to the fact that Israeli restaurants parallel Israeli culture—a culture dominated by religions that place a large emphasis upon family life.

Therefore, instead of individual, small courses, quite often Israeli restaurants will mimic a homey, domestic atmosphere through the presentation of several dishes all spread out at once. Both Jewish and Muslim restaurants display their food in this manner, for in both religions, eating is a form of worship. Rabbi Jill Jacobs describes eating amongst Jewish families as an act of holiness, stating, “Blessings before and after the meal, ritual foods, and family participation transform eating from a mundane activity into a religious experience” (Jacobs). This statement reigns true within Muslim households as well, for The Prophet Muhammed preached that Muslims should “Eat together and not separately, for the blessing is associated with the company.”

Author Saki Knafo describes his experience eating at Habait, an Arabian restaurant in Israel, as a marathon with endless courses serving multiple dishes at once. The first round consisted of cold salads like tabbouleh, a vegetarian dish made of finely chopped tomatoes, parsley, onion, mint, and bulgar wheat, along with spreads like hummus and baba ganoush (ground eggplant). By the time Saki Knafo and his companions stuffed their bellies beyond imagination, he recalls eating 30 dishes! (Knafo). The overabundance of Israeli food served in restaurants only nourishes that familial essence even more—as if eating at an Israeli restaurant is comparable to eating at a close relative’s home, where one feels comfortable going back for second and third helpings.

Although some individuals focus on Israel’s culinary diversity solely as a source of strife, there are those who choose to implement this variation in cultures and cuisine into positive efforts. In 2001, arising at the height of the conflict in the Middle East, an organization that eradicates racial, political, and religious barriers emerged. Founded in Jerusalem, Chefs for Peace is a nonprofit organization created by Jewish, Christian, and Muslim chefs who focus on the exploration of diversity, cultural identity, and peaceful coexistence. These nonpolitical chefs develop food that is a blend of each of their own cultures and religions, and through this combination of identities, their cuisine emerges as a bridge between different people, rather than a wall.

Chefs for Peace cook recipes like figs stuffed with mushroom and pecans, where they combine common local figs with the Arabian influence of Tamarind paste, and a Jewish-inspired cream cheese. But perhaps the organization’s most popular dish is their saffron-scented chicken with rice, eggplant, and cauliflower. Chef Moshe Basson describes this dish as the embodiment of what Chefs for Peace stand for, claiming, “Together, the ingredients taste better than each does standing alone. Each ingredient keeps its identity—just as people of different faiths and backgrounds can retain their own identity, yet still work together to create something beautiful and strong”(Bokur). Through publicly displaying this peaceful message of togetherness, Chefs for Peace emerges as an advocate for Israeli cuisine as a unifying force, and an appreciation for the fusion of flavors and backgrounds that create such distinct and varied tastes.

While Chefs for Peace is an organized group established within Israel, individuals sharing the same positive perspective of unification (in relation to Israel’s conflicting culinary viewpoints) have begun to spread their message beyond the nation’s borders. Vered Guttman, an Israeli chef and food writer, was born in Israel after the 1967 Six Day War ensured Israel’s control over the Mount of Olives. Her coworker, Michael Abulhawa, is an Arab-Palestinian chef who was born Mahmud Abulhawa on the Mount of Olives. Although Vered’s uncle was killed in the Six Day War, he shared the same name as Michael, yet it was Michael’s people who lost their land. Both born in Israel, both possess a deep love for food, and both are so different from one another.

For this pairing, food is not an automatic source of unification, but rather an opportunity to learn and expand their knowledge of Israeli cuisine. In fact, their occupational relationship has led to Michael exploring more Americanized versions of Israeli cuisine, while Vered has begun to serve more Arab dishes—both embracing the spirit of Israeli cuisine as they allow themselves to evolve and step outside their comfort zones. Vered’s newfound openness to certain aspects of Arabian-Arab-Palestinian recipes has had a similar affect on her Jewish clientele, for she has discovered more and more customers with a willingness to try new foods. Vered states, “I was lucky to learn from him how to make them better. Add sumac from Jerusalem and olive oil to the kebab, add hot pepper to the Israeli, or Arab, salad” (Guttman). The point is to deliver a cuisine that embodies an Israeli experience in the most effective manner possible, not to allow politics and religion to fuel a prejudice so powerful that it deprives diners of enjoying the cuisine.

While the ever-present threat of political and religious conflict looms over Israel like a storm, the nation’s cuisine holds the potential to provide humanity with a hopeful glimpse of the sun. Michael Solomonov, a successful Israeli chef and the author of Zahav: A World of Israeli Cooking, states (about Israeli cuisine), “The food tells the story of Israel and tells a story of things that can be really, really, ugly in life, but also the chance to be beautiful because everybody loves to eat” (Nosher).

Despite the differences that rip so many a part, the commonalities in Israeli cuisine unify its people and aid in the development of respect for the plethora of cultures that feed into Israel’s population. When one adopts this mindset of cuisine as a unifying force, he or she does not limit themselves in their own culinary experimentation, allowing themselves to break barriers and build bridges to explore new recipes, ingredients, and flavors—resulting in their own contribution to the evolution of a cuisine…and a way of thinking.

Solomonov predicts that five years from now, Israeli cuisine will be different, because it is a cuisine that is constantly evolving (Khong). Although the common dishes that unify Israel’s people may change, the symbolism behind these recipes remains resolute: Israeli cuisine, whatever its past definition may have been, or its future definition will become, will forever emerge as the tether that binds its people together, for Israeli cuisine is the heart and soul of those who inhabit the land.

 

Works Cited

Bokur, Debra. “Recipes for Peace.” Delicious Living, www.deliciousliving.com/recipes/recipes-peace.

Guttman, Vered. “You Say Bassal; I Say Batzal: What Happens When an Israeli Chef and a Palestinian Chef Share a Kitchen.” Slate. The Slate Group, 2012. https://slate.com/human-interest/2012/04/israeli-cooking-what-happens-when-an-israeli-chef-and-a-palestinian-chef-share-a-kitchen.html

“Halal.” A New Life in a New Land.

Hussaini, Mohammad Mazhar. “Islamic Food Habits.” The Pen Magazine,  www.thepenmagazine.net/islamic-food-habits/.

Jacobs, Rabbi Jill. “Judaism at Home.” My Jewish Learning, www.myjewishlearning.com/article/judaism-at-home/.

“Jerusalem.” Anthony Bourdain: Parts Unknown, written by Anthony Bourdain and directed by Sally Freeman, Cable News Network, 2013.

“Kashrut: Jewish Dietary Law.” Judaism 101.

Khong, Rachel. “Why Modern Israeli Food is America’s New Favorite Cuisine.” Thrillist, www.thrillist.com/eat/nation/israeli-food-americans.

Knafo, Saki. “A Culinary Renaissance in the Israeli Countryside.” Travel and Leisure, www.travelandleisure.com/food-drink/israel-culinary-trends.

Little, Becky. “Why Jews and Muslims Both Have Religious Claims on Jerusalem.” History,  www.history.com/news/why-jews-and-muslims-both-have-religious-claims-on-jerusalem. 

Nosher, The. “How Michael Solomonov Made Israeli Food Mainstream in the U.S.” My Jewish Learning, www.myjewishlearning.com/the-nosher/how-michael-solomonov-made-israeli-food-mainstream-in-the-u-s.