GA I L
SIMMONS
132 DECEMBER 2019
AT MY TABLE
LAST WINTER, I HAD the good fortune of spending
a week traversing the cities, deserts, ports, and
verdant fields of Israel in the company of 20-plus
fellow food-obsessed chefs and food writers; cu-
linary heavyweights Jonathan Waxman, Ruth
Reichl, Jenn Louis, Nancy Silverton, and Marc
Murphy were among them. We were on a spiritual pilgrimage
of a new kind: to uncover and understand what is arguably the
most complex convergence of food cultures in the world. To-
gether we visited farms, home and restaurant kitchens, morning
markets, wineries, food incubators, renowned dining rooms,
and late-night food stalls. We were eager to taste and to learn
how a land so fraught by ages of conflict (yet still so new in its
independent history) can preserve its ancient foodways with
such passion and purpose.
We were a ravenous bunch, consuming, questioning, and
squealing with glee at every flavorful find. In fact, our discover-
ies felt so plentiful that after a while I lost count, even with the
pages of notes and flurry of photos I took each day. Despite our
feeding frenzy, there were several distinct moments of clarity
and revelation, when I tasted something so utterly satisfying that
it is now and forever burned into my sense memory. One such
instance took place at the Carmel Market in Tel Aviv, known
to the locals as Shuk HaCarmel. We spent the morning guided
through stalls and stands by author Adeena Sussman, whose
new Israeli cookbook Sababa was inspired by the vendors and
foods of the market. Toward the end of the tour we stopped at
a beautiful display of molds for halvah, the dense sweet that in
the Middle East is often made of pressed sesame paste (tahini)
and sugar then swirled or sprinkled with anything from dark
chocolate to nuts to rose oil. The shopkeeper placed a piece of
his favorite in my hand, and as soon as it dissolved in my mouth
I knew it would be my favorite, too.
Bright, tart lemon zest (not juice) added the most fragrant,
floral note to the otherwise dense, earthy dessert. Dark, just-
bitter cacao nibs balanced out what otherwise would have been
a cloying sweetness. It was a masterful combination, one I knew
I needed to bring back to my kitchen.
Of course I bought a large slab and have been nibbling on it
ever since (Pro tip: Halvah will keep, well wrapped, in a cool,
dark spot in your pantry for over a year!). In addition, the trinity
of lemon zest, tahini, and cacao nibs has been making its way
into my sweets and baking repertoire ever since, from morning
pancakes to the perfect ice cream topping—and these unassum-
ing, irresistible Lemon-Tahini Cookies (recipe p. 130). They may
just be the ideal holiday gift for everyone on your list this year,
no matter your culture or creed. After all, deliciousness knows
no bounds.
Sweets to Savor
Lemon-Tahini Cookies
(recipe p. 130)
FOOD STYLING: EMILY NABORS HALL; PROP STYLING: AUDREY DAVIS. PORTRAIT: GUERIN BLASK
photography by GREG DUPREE
