Adventures in Israeli Cuisine

C urrently, all I want to eat is Mediterranean food. Or is it Middle Eastern food? Whatever I had during my ten days in Israel, that’s what I want to be eating (minus the eggplant). Yes, I went to Israel for ten days, on a pilgrimage organized by the Catholic Traveler; yes, I felt safe; yes, swimming in the Dead Sea is strange; and yes, the tour-bus drivers there have superpowers.

Perhaps when I’ve had time to process everything I experienced on that trip, I’ll write more about it. Unquestionably, the holy sites were the most important piece, but food is easier to process than the Mount of Transfiguration, and so I shall describe to you my attempt at re-creating some of the delicious dishes I ate during my trip — falafel fails and all.

The sheer amount of food we were served over there was impressive, and before I left, I’d determined to try basically everything that was put in front of me. I drew the line only at shrimp, whole fish, and eggplant, and happily devoured lamb chops, tabbouleh, hummus, ceviche, and carpaccio — to name just a few dishes. One day, we took part in a cooking demonstration and learned how to make hummus and falafel. Obviously, you can roll balls of falafel by hand, but I was enchanted by the little spring-driven ball-shaper the chef used and bought one for myself immediately upon my return to the U.S. The falafel he created for us was fabulous — crisp on the outside, fluffy on the inside. It was No. 1 on my list to attempt back home, and as soon as I recovered from my jet lag, I was planning a dinner party.

Inspired by the multicourse, small-plate-style lunches and dinners I’d experienced during my trip, my initial menu ran something like this: falafel, burrata with fresh cherry tomatoes, shakshuka, roasted cauliflower with tahini dressing, hummus, pita bread, a cucumber and tomato salad, lamb and beef meatballs with roasted red onions and chickpeas, and an olive oil cake.

Was this too much food? Well, I was cooking for eleven, so not exactly — though I definitely overdid it on the meat and the hummus (I have a terrible fear of running out of food and a firm belief that my freezer is my best friend). With this many recipes, all with multiple steps and important pieces, I made a game plan and set to work around 7:30 a.m. Tuesday morning (the dinner was scheduled for 7 p.m. that evening).

First order of business: get the pita dough made and set to proof. Pita bread is actually fairly simple, both in terms of ingredients and baking process. I made a double batch of King Arthur Baking’s Golden Pita Bread recipe, and while they tasted fine, they didn’t puff in the oven. I’m going to blame this on my attempt to be expedient and use a carbon steel griddle instead of my pizza stone (simply because I could bake more pitas at once). The last time I made these, I used the pizza stone and an America’s Test Kitchen pita recipe — I may need to return to that.

While the pita dough proofed, I started the mixture for my lamb-and-beef meatballs. This is my adaptation of a recipe from Smitten Kitchen (she uses turkey, not lamb, for her meatballs), and my only regret is not putting in enough yogurt. My meatballs were just a little bit tough, though the flavor was lovely. Also, while my KitchenAid mixer certainly helped the meat mixing process along, five pounds is a bit of a tall order. And besides, mixing it with your hands is much more satisfying.

Then I made my first major mistake. I’d misread the falafel recipe (also from Smitten Kitchen) and didn’t realize I was supposed to use dried garbanzo beans, which needed to be soaked overnight. I’d bought canned ones. Added to that, I dumped two cans of beans into the food processor instead of one. This made the falafel mixture incredibly wet, which would have disastrous results later on.

Blissfully unaware of my error, however, I plowed ahead with other tasks while the falafel mix chilled in the fridge. There was the cauliflower to cut up and roast (from now on, all my cauliflower is getting a dusting of coriander before roasting), a Mediterranean salad to prepare, and cherry tomatoes to slice. Inspired by a memorable cauliflower dish served with tahini dressing, I used this recipe from the New Baguette, but then I got creative with the topping. I took chopped dates and sliced almonds and candied them with butter and brown sugar. Right before serving the cauliflower, I drizzled the tahini dressing over it and showered a liberal amount of the candied dates and almonds on that. And it worked!

While all this was happening, I was keeping an eye on my olive oil cake. Now happily baking in the oven, the springform pan it was in had initially given me a scare when it started leaking after I poured in the batter. One of the features of an olive oil cake is a little “hat” that forms on top, thanks to a nice dusting of sugar before you bake it. Flipping the cake out of a pan would ruin said hat, so you bake it in a springform pan to preserve the look. My pan has decided that it’s seen better days and started letting batter seep out, so I snatched it back out of the oven, wrapped the base in foil, put it on a baking sheet, and popped it back in. Success. (Well, the middle was a tad underdone, but my guests seemed to enjoy that part the most.)

The rest of the afternoon was spent rolling meatballs, vacuuming, dusting, washing copious amounts of dishes, and continuously mincing garlic. It really did feel continuous, especially when I realized I’d gone through almost my entire supply of garlic. I didn’t count how many cloves I used, but it couldn’t have been less than 20. And probably about that many teaspoons of lemon juice.

A few hours before my guests began to arrive, I started the base for shakshuka. This is a North African dish, a cream-and-mushroom version of one I had at a hotel in Tel Aviv. For about a week, I’d been making a knock-off version of it, but for the party I decided to follow a recipe. For those who don’t know, shakshuka is a tomato-sauce-based concoction in which you poach eggs and then eat it all with rice or bread (or whatever side you want, really). I mostly stuck to Smitten Kitchen’s recipe here, but I did swap in jarred fire-roasted peppers for the jalapeños/Anaheims, and I used goat cheese instead of feta. While it did have a lovely flavor, I think I’ll stick with the cream-based version of this dish when I want a treat.

Finally, one hour before my guests were due, I began the falafel frying. And then everything fell apart — literally.

Well, actually, more like it disintegrated. My oil was a ripping 375 degrees when I carefully lowered in the first ball (formed nicely by my handy falafel maker), but the sputtering and spitting protestations it made were a bit worrisome. I was about to put in another ball when I realized the previous ball was just flaking apart and all the tiny particles were burning to a crisp all over the pot. I tried skimming them out to no avail. So then I fished out what was left of the first falafel ball, and it fell in an oily blob on the counter. Thinking maybe the oil was too hot, I adjusted the temp and waited a bit. More falafel balls went in, but the same results occurred.

Knowing when you’re beaten is a handy life skill, and I knew this falafel had just gotten the better of me. Off went the burner, out to the porch went the pot of oil, and on went all the fans as I tried to clear the frying smell out of my apartment before everyone arrived.

Reheating the meatballs and cauliflower brought new scents to the room — and guests to my door. One said she knew she was at the right apartment by the smells wafting out — praise that I gratefully accepted. Soon, my apartment was full to bursting, and after some prayer, singing, and food explanations, we were all digging into my dream dinner.