Sumac and Survival: Cooking in Solidarity with Palestine
Because food honours culture, preserves memory, and offers a way for us to stand with those being starved into silence....
I’m finding it hard to write about food this week, given the increased global attention on the starving people of Palestine. It feels wrong, uncomfortable and inappropriate for me to be writing about the joys of eating when we all know exactly what’s going on. It’s simply unconscionable.
So it seems a little more appropriate, at least, to devote this newsletter to the joys of Palestinian food, in that if we - the privileged - cook and eat the food of this nation, we can at least try to eat mindfully and with respect. Cooking Palestinian food, here, can be viewed as an act of defiance, and a chance to open up conversation about the horror we must bear witness to and never forget.
I feel pretty much the same writing today as when I sat and tried to write eulogies for both my parents, and a couple of good friends. Where do you begin, how can you encapsulate those feelings, those emotions, that run deeper than words?
“Once again, we are witnessing unthinkable loss of life in Gaza. Civilians are risking – and in several instances losing – their lives to get food.”
- UN Secretary-General António Guterres
I can’t begin to express my disgust, my contempt and my frustration at how the situation has panned out. The United Nations has declared Gaza the only region globally where 100% of the population is at risk of famine. 100%. Last year, I recall reading that people were forced to survive on less than one can of fava beans, or one cup of cooked rice, a day. Today, after a total blockade, there’s nothing. Mothers, children, fathers, are even being shot as they desperately try to get food.
They are being bombed or starved out of existence, and we’re simply watching this tragedy unfold.
From a food perspective, the least we can do is to double down and boycott those brands supporting the genocide, alongside those who are clearly standing on the wrong side of history.
My plant-based lifestyle comes from a strong sense of compassion, of love for all beings, and of course, that compassion extends to humans, too. What’s unfolding before our eyes is appalling, shocking, untenable. I live in hope that it will end soon, but how will it end? It feels like change is coming, but it also feels like the human cost has already been too great.
I honestly can’t envisage how any semblance of Palestine can survive the relentless bombardment, but what can survive is culture. If we talk about food, we are talking about a nation’s history, its people, its climate, its crops, its rivers and seas. In talking about food, in sharing recipes, we are helping preserve culture.
In this sense, talking about food has never felt so important — and I feel woefully unqualified to do it justice when it comes to Palestine. Leila Haddad is certainly better equipped than me to describe the scenario, although reading this poignant piece may leave you devastated. As she puts it: “Israel’s checkpoints, separation walls, and roadblocks may have physically separated our families, but they could not eradicate our culture.”
This week my Substack feed has been peppered with references to an exciting new recipe book from Palestinian chef Sami Tamimi, Boustany, and he encapsulated his feelings perfectly in his note: “To write about our food is to say: we exist. We have names, flavors, grandmothers, olive trees, spices, rituals. We have joy and depth and memory. And that doesn’t disappear, no matter how much they try to make it so.”
“Recipes transcend mere culinary instructions; they encapsulate narratives, memories and serve as a testament to the resilience of those who have entrusted them across generations.”
- Palestinian chef Sami Tamimi
His book is certainly worth a read, but over and above spending money on new recipe books, I think right now something good we can all do is to talk about Palestinian food, to share recipes, and to push the narrative that Palestinians are not just statistics, not just victims — they are people with rich histories, fragrant kitchens, and enduring cultural legacies that deserve to be seen, heard, and tasted.
Sharing their food is one small way to honour their existence, their humanity, and their right to survive and thrive.
The more time we can spend sharing our thoughts and feelings, driving compassion, lobbying our elected representatives, the better. I’ve never felt more like praying.
Recipes
Having said all of the above, I’m acutely aware that this weekend it’s also Eid Al Adha, a time when Muslims come together, to celebrate their religion and culture, with food, family and prayers. So why not take a little extra time to cook one of these dishes, with a sense of comradeship and community?
If Palestinians had access to any food whatsoever, they’d be cooking Sumagiya during Eid, a dish associated with celebration.
Sumagiyya: A Gazan Stew of Greens, Chickpeas and Soul
This recipe is a vegan adaptation of a traditional Palestinian dish, a beloved stew often made with lamb, chard, chickpeas, and a distinctive tang from sumac. In this version, it’s fully plant-based and made with ingredients that are easier to find, while still preserving the essence: comforting, sour, warming, and grounding.
To cook this dish is, in a small way, to honour Palestinian culinary heritage, especially now, when culture and memory are acts of resistance.
Ingredients
For the stew:
2 tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
3–4 garlic cloves, crushed
1½ tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp allspice (optional, but lovely)
½ tsp ground black pepper
1 tsp salt, or to taste
2 heaped tbsp ground sumac (If unavailable, use the juice of 1 lemon + 1 tsp lemon zest)
1 bunch Swiss chard, spinach or kale, chopped
1½ cups cooked chickpeas (or 1 can, drained and rinsed)
3–4 cups vegetable stock or water
1 tbsp plain flour (for thickening)
For the sesame-lemon sauce (tahini finish):
¼ cup tahini (regular – no need for red, which is traditionally used)
2 tbsp water
Juice of ½ lemon
Pinch of salt
Preparation
Heat olive oil in a large saucepan or pot. Add onion and cook over medium heat until soft and golden, about 5–7 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook for a further minute.
Add coriander, cumin, allspice (if using), black pepper and salt. Stir briefly to toast the spices, then add chopped greens. Let them wilt into the mixture for a few minutes.
Stir in ground sumac (or lemon juice and zest), then add the chickpeas. Pour in just enough stock or water to cover everything. Bring to a simmer.
Let the stew cook gently for 20–25 minutes. Mix the flour with a few tablespoons of cold water in a small bowl to make a smooth slurry, then stir it into the stew. Simmer another 5 minutes to thicken slightly.
In a separate bowl, whisk together tahini, lemon juice, water, and salt until smooth and drizzle-able. Add a bit more water if it’s too thick.
Taste the stew and adjust seasoning if needed. Serve hot, with the tahini sauce drizzled over each bowl. Warm flatbread or plain rice makes the perfect accompaniment.
This stew is quietly powerful — not flashy, but full of flavour, integrity, and resilience. A reminder that food tells stories: of land, of love, and of lives worth remembering.
Vegan Musakhan/Muhammar : A Tribute to the Spirit of Palestine
Musakhan is often called the national dish of Palestine, a celebration of roasted chicken, caramelised onion, sumac, and warm flatbread. But beyond ingredients, it’s a dish layered with family, harvest and memory.
This vegan take keeps the heart of the dish: deeply spiced onions, the tang of sumac, a soft, olive oil-soaked flatbread base, and fragrant roasted flavours. It’s an offering of solidarity, made with what’s available.
Ingredients:
For the onions:
3–4 medium red or yellow onions, thinly sliced
4 tbsp olive oil
1½ tbsp ground sumac
½ tsp ground allspice
½ tsp ground cinnamon
Salt, to taste
Optional: juice of ½ lemon (if not using sumac)
For the chickpeas:
1½ cups cooked chickpeas (or 1 can, drained)
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp cumin
½ tsp paprika
Pinch of black pepper and salt
For the base:
2–3 pieces of flatbread (pita, naan, or khubz)
Olive oil, for brushing
Toasted pine nuts or slivered almonds, to garnish (optional)
Preparation:
In a wide pan, heat 4 tbsp olive oil and add the sliced onions. Cook slowly over low heat for 15–20 minutes, stirring often, until soft and golden. Add the sumac, allspice, cinnamon, salt, and lemon juice if using. Let it all cook together for another 5 minutes. The onions should be fragrant and gently tangy.
In a separate pan, heat 1 tbsp olive oil. Add chickpeas, cumin, paprika, salt and pepper. Cook over medium heat for 10 minutes until slightly crispy and golden. Set aside.
Brush your flatbreads with olive oil and warm them in a dry pan or low oven until soft and golden.
Place flatbreads on plates or a large tray. Top generously with the spiced onions, then spoon over the chickpeas. Scatter with nuts, if using, and a final dusting of sumac.
This is a dish to be shared. Eat it with your hands, with reverence. Let it nourish you, and take the time to remember those who cannot be nourished today.
Vegan Maqluba: A Tribute to Palestinian Resilience
Maqluba, meaning "upside-down" in Arabic, is more than just a dish; it's a symbol of Palestinian heritage, resilience, and communal spirit. Traditionally made with meat, rice, and fried vegetables, this layered delicacy is inverted before serving, revealing a mosaic of flavours and textures.
My vegan version stays true to the essence of the original, offering a nourishing and heartfelt homage to a people and their enduring spirit.
Ingredients:
1 can (400g) chickpeas, rinsed and drained
400g extra-firm tofu, pressed and crumbled
1 cup walnuts, finely chopped
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 large onion, finely diced
2 tablespoons seven-spice blend
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon turmeric
Salt and black pepper, to taste
2 medium eggplants, sliced into 1cm rounds
2 medium potatoes, peeled and sliced into 1cm rounds
2 medium tomatoes, sliced
1 red bell pepper, sliced
1 head of cauliflower, cut into florets
Olive oil, for roasting
2 cups basmati rice, rinsed and soaked for 30 minutes
3 cups vegetable broth
2 bay leaves
Salt, to taste
To garnish:
¼ cup pine nuts or slivered almonds, toasted
Fresh parsley, chopped
Preparation:
In a large skillet, heat olive oil over medium heat. Sauté the diced onion until translucent.
Add crumbled tofu, chickpeas, and chopped walnuts.
Stir in the seven-spice blend, cardamom, cinnamon, turmeric, salt, and pepper. Cook for 10–15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is well combined and fragrant.
Preheat the oven to 200°C (392°F). Arrange eggplant, potatoes, bell pepper, and cauliflower on baking sheets. Brush with olive oil and season with salt. Roast for 25–30 minutes, flipping halfway, until golden and tender.
Grease the bottom of a large, heavy-bottomed pot with olive oil. Layer the sliced tomatoes at the bottom. Add layers of roasted eggplant, potatoes, bell pepper, and cauliflower.
Spread the tofu and chickpea filling evenly over the vegetables.
Top with the soaked and drained rice, spreading it evenly.
Place bay leaves on top and gently pour in the vegetable broth, ensuring the rice is just covered.
Bring the pot to a gentle boil over medium heat.
Reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 40–45 minutes, or until the rice is fully cooked and the liquid is absorbed.
Remove from heat and let it rest, covered, for 10–15 minutes.
Place a large serving plate/ platter over the pot.
Carefully invert the pot to release the Maqluba onto the platter.
Gently lift the pot to reveal the layered dish.
Garnish with toasted pine nuts or slivered almonds and chopped parsley.
In sharing and preparing these recipes, we not only savour a delicious meal but also honour the rich tapestry of Palestinian culture and resilience. May the dishes serve as a reminder of the enduring spirit of a people and the power of food to connect us all.
These recipes are a way of saying Palestine exists. Its stories are still being told - through spice, through memory, through meals – and always will be.
Resources
Using starvation as a weapon of war is a war crime under international law.
Write to your elected representative, whether that’s your MP, Senator, or local official, for example to demand action, a ceasefire, express your disgust, call for action.
www.humanitproject.org has a great template email.
DONATE — to trusted, on the ground organisations, and hope that the blockade is lifted.
Apologies for the UK—centric nature of these sites, but I’m sure you can seek local equivalents in your own country…
Boycott — vote with your wallet.
Support Palestinian voices — and others
@eye.on.palestine
@mohammedelkurd
@wizard_bisan1
Follow media representatives
@motaz_azaiza
@hindkhoudary
@byplestia
https://x.com/MaramGaza
@afafpall_
[note: many of these accounts seem to be blocked by Instagram in the UK, at least on my device…]
That’s all folks. A final word – I never wanted this newsletter to be political. This is simply an appeal for humanity, and for compassionate support of the plight of Palestine through its food.