Skip to main content

Cookbooks 13: Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi and Tara Wigley



13.  Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi and Tara Wigley. I bought ‘Jerusalem’ (London, 2012) at the Avenue Bookshop in Albert Park with a book voucher I was presented for giving a lecture. You’d have to say it’s this book that established Ottolenghi’s name, and with good reason. Through the foreground medium of food, he and Tamimi present one of the best available introductions to the life of modern Jerusalem. I learn more about the City here than any amount of political commentary. Jewish and Arab cuisines are rich and earthy; ‘Jerusalem’ shows just how symbiotic the relationships really are. It’s a joint nostalgia trip, but both men are living in the present tense. There is a surprise article (pages 112-113) where they face up to the only thing all residents of Jerusalem agree upon: hummus. We learn the word ‘hummusia’, eateries specialising almost entirely in hummus. Even though everyone agrees yes hummus, this is then the cause for arguments of every kind. Egyptian Arabs invented hummus, but then scholars say hummus is in the Bible. (This could go on all night!) The authors admit it’s a fetish and that there will never be universal harmony over the right chunkiness, spiciness, fluffiness, brownness, the correct temperature of hummus. In ‘Jerusalem’ we meet the market-sellers, chefs, and diners (that’s everyone) via words and photographs. I have trialled many of the meals in this book on a captive audience, which is probably why I was given ‘Falastin’ (London, 2020) by Carol and Bridie; they bought it for me at Great Escape Books in Airey’s Inlet. Arabic has no P, but plainly this book is the partner of ‘Jerusalem’ with all attention this time on Palestinian cuisine. So far, I haven’t tested any recipes in the new book, just slowly turned the pages, gawked at the tempting pictures, and started listening to the enthusiastic voices of Tamimi and Wigley. We are going to start this weekend with batata bil filfil, i.e. spicy roasted new potatoes with lemon and herbs (page 136-137).
 
Recipe. Rinse 200 grams of PEARL BARLEY. Melt some BUTTER in OLIVE OIL and cook 2 diced CELERY STALKS, 2 diced SHALLOTS, 4 diced GARLIC CLOVES on gentle heat until nice. Then add the barley, some THYME, PAPRIKA, a BAY LEAF, some grated LEMON RIND, a 400 gram tin of chopped TOMATOES, 700 ml VEGETABLE STOCK, 300 ml PASSATA and some SALT. Actually, they say salt but I never use salt because salt is already in the food. Stir, bring to the boil then simmer while stirring. You can toast a tablespoon of CARAWAY SEEDS, though I often just toss them in as is, mixing these with as much diced FETA as you like; they say 300 grams. The barley risotto is spooned into bowls, topped with the feta mixture and sprinkled with OREGANO LEAVES.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Why did Dante write The Divine Comedy?

This is one of two short papers given by Philip Harvey at the first Spiritual Reading Group session for 2014 on Tuesday the 18 th of February in the Carmelite Library in Middle Park. He also gave a paper on that occasion, which can be found on the Library blog, entitled ‘A Rationale for Purgatory’ . Nadezhda Mandelstam recalls in one of her books how her husband, the Russian poet Osip Mandelstam, would say that when reading poetry we can spend a great deal of time discussing what it means, but the first and main question about a poem is not what does it mean, but why was it written. That is the place to start. Here are eleven reasons that I offer quietly to help us think about this poem: Why did Dante write The Divine Comedy? You may have other reasons and these are invited. We will spend most of our time today looking at meanings, but also at why. I wrote these out as they occurred to me, so there is no priority order. 1.      He wrote the poem because of Florence. Many o

The Walk (Seamus Heaney)

This poem was read aloud at Janet Campbell’s funeral in Hamilton in Victoria in December 2006. Janet was a great lover of poetry all her life, a great reader of poetry, and she read everything of Seamus Heaney. Indeed, when she worked in Melbourne or London bookshops Janet would grab hold of Faber pre-publication copies of Heaney if they came into the backroom, and disappear for days, copying lines onto postcards for her friends, transferring lines into her lifetime of diaries. Diaries that were also a lifeline. Janet read everything, but Heaney was one of the regulars. Seamus Heaney keeps a tight line. He is rarely though completely opaque and the way into this poem is the word ‘longshot’. We only find in the second of the two poems that we are being asked to look at two photographs. Or, at least, poems that are like photographs. Or, better still, strong memories that have taken on in the mind the nature of longshots. The two poems in one are reminders of close relationships.

The Poetry of Rowan Williams

Rowan Williams delivers the twelfth John Rylands Poetry Reading last year   This is a paper given by Philip Harvey in the Hughes Room at St Peter’s Church, Eastern Hill, Melbourne on Sunday the 6 th of December as one in an Advent series on religious poets. The original title of the paper was ‘The text that maps our losses and longings’. Everything Rowan Williams says and writes reveals a person with a highly developed sensitivity to language, its force, directness, instantaneousness, its subtlety, indirectness, longevity. A person though may speak three languages fluently and read at least nine languages with ease, as he does, and still not engage with language in the way we are looking at here. Because Rowan is unquestionably someone with a poetic gift. By that I don’t just mean he writes poetry, I mean he engages with the life of words, their meanings, ambiguities, colours, their playfulness, invention, sounds. We find this in those writings of his that deliberate