This post was written a year ago. I dug it up again, and edited it a bit, to post it this year with more intention.
May 15 marks a turning point in the course of history with massive consequences
It is the day Palestinians were forcibly expelled from their homes to nowhere
It is when Palestinians started looking for home, a shelter, a roof to stay under. For 68 years, Palestinians are being chased out of their homes and lands, tortured, imprisoned, mistreated, and killed.
Massacres are happening on a regular basis. The world has become so numb. We count numbers. Unless there’s a notable person among those killed, the death toll is meaningless
view from my house in 2015. Now I have more plants
Third Street: the street I live in
say a little prayer
art installation next to the church
the produce vendor
Photos from Dbayeh Palestinians refugees camp I took last year
As I probably have mentioned in previous posts, I am a 2nd generation Palestinian with a Lebanese nationality. I barely have any sense of belonging to neither. My grandmother used to tell me about how they fled and how they settled in the area that became the refugees camp of Dbayeh, the camp that neither most Palestinians nor Lebanese know about. Continue reading
For the winter issue of The Carton magazine, entitled A Proustian Memory, a piece of writing that I submitted was published and I couldn’t get any prouder to be part of such cultural publication. This piece revisits my memories of the period of Saint Barbara’s day through Christmas with scents, sights, and flavors.
Mom and I cooked for a Palestinian brunch for a second time and we served another bunch of happy customers. There’s nothing more pleasing than people with happy faces after sharing a wonderful meal that is filling, healthy (sort of) and flavorful.
In case you have been following my Facebook page (which you should –> www.fb.com/cookin5m2) you might have known about my new big announcement. Cookin5m2 was cooking in another kitchen and making food for people other than my family. My mom and I were cooking at Mòtto and had prepared a special Palestinian brunch with exceptional recipes that wowed everyone. THE PLACE WAS FULLY, if not over, BOOKED!
Kaak asfar, Labneh with vegetables and tomato salad
Now that you’ve had your rage with the #Fattouch / #FatDouche case which turned up to a dead end, let me unleash my rage against something more important and deserves blocking roads, burning flags, demonstrations, protests and some vegetables chopping. TABBOULEH! (i have to note the sarcastic tone, because sometimes things are only funny in my head)
I am a Tabbouleh extremist. It kills me to watch a chef massacring what he/she claims to be the real tabbouleh from the middle east (and I will not specify the country of origin because that’s a whole different debate)