In 2012 when her sons Johnny, Elie and Mel Moubarak
opened Gerard’s Bistro, Johnny and chef Williamson asked
her to join them as their baker.
“The key to Salwa’s bread and what makes it so important
to me as a chef is its originality,” says Williamson. “Even when
you travel through Lebanon and taste the countless varieties of
bread, the bread of Salwa’s village is unique. It’s unleavened,
and has a dense chewiness despite being so thin and light.
You can’t buy it anywhere; it’s the ultimate artisan product.”
Before starting at Gerard’s Bistro, Moubarak spent six
months seeking out the perfect flour, trawling supermarket
aisles, visiting Greek and Italian providores, testing and
retesting until finally settling on a whole wheat blend from
a specialist Indian grocer she discovered in the outer suburbs.
Decades spent in Australia finding inventive ways
to recreate Lebanese dishes have opened Moubarak to
change and interpretation. It’s an approach that dovetails with
Williamson’s menus and their mix of the traditional and local,
burghul crackers becoming vehicles for kangaroo and hummus;
the texture of warm falafel crumpets contrasting with kingfish.
“Ben is so honest with his cooking, I trust him,” Moubarak
says. “I trust his abilities to take Lebanese food and make it
something modern and different while never forgetting where
the food came from and what it means. Together, we combine
a thoroughly modern dish with bread – the oldest, simplest
food and act of hospitality there is. And that is very special.”T
hese days when Moubarak returns to her village in
Deir El Ahmar her reputation precedes her. She is
celebrated for her cooking ability, and particularly
her skills in making the local flatbread. She’s
called “Mou’almeh”, which roughly translates to “life teacher”.
No recipes are written down, they’re passed on through
observation and practice, so her nieces, nephews and friends
flock to her, asking her for advice on cooking, how to make
the best mouneh preserves, choose the freshest flour, or how
to best flip the dough by hand to make the thinnest, most
evenly cooked flatbread. They sit and watch her knead and
turn the dough, committing the patterns and rhythms to
memory for their own children.
Johnny Moubarak loves being able to share a small piece
of his family history with the diners at Gerard’s.
“Mum didn’t have an easy life,” he says. “She deserves a
legacy and it is up to us to create it. And that bread, it’s Mum
to me. I can’t disconnect the two. It represents everything good
about her and our family. Plentiful, shared and full of love.”
For Moubarak herself, making the bread keeps her hands
busy and her mind agile, and keeps an important tradition
alive.“I don’t get bored and I don’t want to stop. I love it. It
relaxes me, in a meditative way,” she says. “It’s important for
me to help my children and to connect me to the family I no
longer see. When no one is around, I knead and I pray. I pray
for my family – my kids and my beautiful grandchildren.”➤
Gerard’s Bistro, 14/15 James St, Fortitude Valley, Qld,
(07) 3852 3822, gerardsbistro.com.auI
f you want to find Salwa Moubarak,
look for her in the kitchen. Never
mind that she’s nearly 70 – she’ll be
there, hands and elbows dusted in
flour, kneading the 400 or so discs
of flatbread needed each week at Gerard’s
Bistro, her son’s Brisbane restaurant. This
is the food of her mother and her mother
before her; every time she heats the saj,
every time she takes the rolling pin in
hand, her connection with Lebanon,
with home and family, her children and
her parents, is renewed.
Gerard’s is a restaurant in Fortitude
Valley celebrated for its modern takes
on Middle Eastern food. Moubarak
works with chef Ben Williamson to
make khobz marquq – the bread that
is an essential accompaniment
to his Lebanese, Turkish and North
African flavours. You’ll find it served
on the side of a lamb tartare with
harissa, perhaps, or folded into a bowl
alongside slow-cooked wagyu brisket
with labne, eggplant and pickles.
Moubarak grew up in a small
village in the Bekaa Valley called Deir
El Ahmar and moved to Melbourne
in 1972, finding work in the Sheridan
factory sewing quilts, pillowcases and
sheets. In 1983, chasing warmer weather,
she moved to Brisbane, buying and selling
fruit shops while raising her four children.
Moubarak first learnt how to make
her golden, chewy flatbread at her
mother’s side. She was one of a dozen
children, number six in a large boisterous
family of eight boys and four girls. She
cooked out of necessity, helping her
mother care for her paraplegic brother
and blind grandmother. There were no
recipes, just an understanding of what
felt right and tasted delicious.
She taught her own kids about their
heritage in the kitchen, recreating the
dishes from her own childhood for theirs.
Hanging labne, shaping kibbeh, making
falafel sandwiches and preserving fruit.
Just like her mother she was exacting
about ingredients, from the type of flour
for bread to the parsley for tabbouleh
(which she insists must be young, soft
and just picked).GOURMET TRAVELLER 79