The Lebanese cook their grief. Illness and death call the Lebanese to their kitchens, to their lists on the fridge, to their huge pots and pans that they can lean on, sighing, stirring, spicing, clicking their tongues over the need to make this food now, so heartbreakingly rich and warm. Read the complete story …
My grandmother Sitto kept three staples in her refrigerator in Lansing, Michigan: black olives, kimaj (pita bread), and labneh—a tart, creamy spread made from homemade yogurt. Even if the fridge was filled with the other, more elaborate Lebanese foods she’d prepared, it was the labneh we always reached for first. Read the complete story …
For the Lebanese, bread is a holy thing. When a piece of bread falls to the floor, it is picked up immediately, touched to the forehead and kissed. This is something the immigrant grandparents taught their children and grandchildren so they would appreciate all that they have in their prosperous American lives. Read the complete story …
There are more celebrity sightings than ever this summer in Chicago. Fans need only head to their local farmer’s market to catch a glimpse. Certainly the requisite number of chefs will be milling about foraging for produce for their menus, but another sort of star in the food world works the other side of the produce stand, and that’s the farmers themselves. Read the complete story …
One of the great rewards of any religious fast is the feast that breaks it. While heightened spiritual awareness, communion with the poor, and drawing closer to God are at the heart of fasting, gathering at the table to celebrate its end is no less vital—and a lot more fun. Read the complete story …
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