When I left the restaurant Haj Kahil after lunch, I said to someone – “That was the best day of my life.” When Erin, who was dining next to me, took a bite of the fried Halloumi cheese, her whole body softened, her eyes dimmed, and she looked as if she had been lulled into a trance.
Labna with wild mustardpomagranite juicefried haloumi cheesewaiter at Haj Khil
And from the look on her face, it was clearly quite the moment, enjoying that first warm bite of soft, pillowy cheese sealed inside a firm, golden-brown crust. Of course, I made sure that the plate was set down near me, and I plucked one off for myself.
Over on hundred cultures live in the small country of Israel, and thirty-three languages are spoken. Because people live so close together, the food traditions cross fluidly from one culture to the next here. Fresh produce is abundant due to the climate and the vegetables are still-crunchy and juicy, as if they are still alive, the herbs are deep-green and aromatic – I was intrigued by hyssop, which I’ve never had fresh before. Meats are complimented by the seared flavor of a grill, or a leisurely roast in the oven, cooked so they fall apart with just the gentle prodding of a fork.
And nutty tahini (sesame paste), is a flavor I thought I knew. But here, it is so revered and each spoonful tastes like it was just-ground to order. From hummus to baba ganoush, it’s a flavor that binds it all, the glue that is holding many of the flavors of Israel – and the various cuisines within its controversial borders – together.
Olive oil, chickpeas, sesame seeds, dried fruits, nuts, filo dough, and plenty of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers come heaped in salads, are stuffed into meat dishes, and everything seems to get tossed with an abundance of fresh herbs, all cultivated from this culinary eden.