Eating The Wild Weeds and Licking The Fingers at Little Eucalyptus Restaurant

“I want to show you that food in Israel isn’t all choumous and falafel,” said Chef Sufyan.

My sister and I looked at the table, which was covered with intriguing herbs both fresh and dried, a platter of spices and grains, an old-fashioned mortar and pestle, slim bottles containing -surely – something magical.

“Mallows, kitchen sage, Jerusalem sage gathered on the hillsides around town, za’ater, sumac, smoked green wheat! I grew up eating these wild foods, and more, in my family’s village near Hebron.

“I studied cooking at the MMK – My Mother’s Kitchen. When I run into trouble with a recipe, I call my mother, and she’ll tell me, ‘Don’t worry, call your grandma!’ There has to be something of yourself in the food you cook. I want to give the public the delicious foods so intimately bound with my roots.”

Chef Sufyan is a man on a mission: to preserve the  foodways of the Arab/Jewish Jerusalemite communities.  “To tie past and present together by serving Biblical foods today, ” he adds. He dwells lovingly and with encyclopedic knowledge on food traditions: from the quality of well water to the ancient way of making date honey (filtered through clean sand, then washed), to the medicinal properties  and spiritual resonance of the foods.

And he shares a goal with an eclectic group of chefs: achieving peace between peoples by sharing cuisines. This is Chefs for Peace, a movement that began in 2001 at a food conference in Italy where a number of Israeli chefs – Arab, Christian, and Jewish – found themselves cooking and eating together and becoming friends.

“Of course the restaurant is kosher,” says Sufyan. “This is Jerusalem. If my food isn’t kosher and available to all people in the Holy City, what have I achieved?” Little Eucalyptus has a kashrut certificate from the Jerusalem Rabbinate. During the three hours my sister and I feasted, we saw that the kashrut supervisor was present and active in the facility the whole time. Sufyan says that the supervisor cleans the fresh wild leaves himself.

Yes, we sat down and feasted for three hours. That is, we did give our knives and forks a rest at intervals. The menu we chose, a tasting menu called “King David” was composed of many small portions, beautifully presented and paced so that we could eat, converse, and allow ourselves room for the next course.

A huge, hot pitta, arrived, slightly charred on one side (and all the tastier for it). Next to it were a fragrant dip of fresh, green za’atar, another of spinach strongly flavored with garlic, a purée of black-eyed peas, and a mild potato salad. This came with an unexceptional white wine. We asked for an excellent red wine from the Castel winery to accompany the rest of the meal.

A tray of soups served in espresso cups followed. They were: a lemony, chunky lentil soup, a soup of Jerusalem artichokes with almond milk, and a tomato soup flavored with mint. Extremely delicious, all.

Sis and I already understood the wisdom of those small portions as more and more delicacies were set down in front of us. Following the soups came a salad composed of potatoes, seven different herbs, lemon and sage oil:

and tabouleh.

The huge variety of flavorful dishes reminded me of a festive meal at some medieval nobleman’s castle. And come to think of it, many of the ingredients and recipes brought back to Europe by the Crusaders originated in Jerusalem.

At this point we asked for permission to take kitchen photos, which Sufyan kindly gave.

It was really an excuse to get up and stretch the legs. The small, tidy kitchen was reassuringly homelike, with the chef’s reductions and vegetables simmering away on the very plainest of stoves.

Here a pitta is quickly pushed into shape, seasoned with olive oil and za’atar, and draped over a clay pot containing a pre-cooked chicken stew.

The whole is popped into the oven and presented at table like this:

Chicken stewed in a clay pot covered with pitta, on my plate (pardon the blur).

But while the stew was in the oven, Sufyan showed us how to make the most delicate grilled eggplant salad I’ve ever tasted or can hope to taste. He peeled the charred skin away from an entire eggplant, dipping his fingers into a glass of water as he went. The eggplant lay flat on a plate. When I try peeling a roasted eggplant, I wind up with little eggplant rags; his beautifully whole vegetable filled me with admiration. Sufyan then pressed a fork into the meat of the eggplant to allow the seasonings to permeate it.

Salt, lemon juice, paprika,  and drizzles of techinah followed, the whole drizzled again with threads of pomegranate syrup. It was layered with earthy, savory and sweet flavors, punctuated by the pomegranate syrup. My sister told Sufyan, “Leave me alone now, I’m in love!”

Fortunately Sufyan knows how to take a jest.

“Main course coming up,” he announced. Sis and I winced. How much more could we eat? Much more, it turned out, but in small portions. To help us cope with the onslaught, Sufyan poured a clear yellowish liquid out of one of those magic bottles: liqueur of Jerusalem sage, aromatic and delicate. In addition to our wine, we’d been drinking lemonade and tamarind-rosewater refreshers from heavy clay pitchers.

Were we able for the next course? Bring it on.

Beef stewed with sweet potatoes, accompanied by smoked green wheat…

Prunes stuffed with slivers of chicken breast (exquisite, this)…

Stuffed Jerusalem sage…

By the time the dishes were cleared for dessert, Sis and I were past caring about mundane things like calories. We were so seduced and lulled and becalmed in our carved chairs that it seemed like the outside world had stopped, and we were alone with a great culinary talent in a white buttoned jacket and the smiling, silent waitress. A welcome pitcher of hot mint and sage tea was placed on the table. We sipped and awaited.

No photo of dessert…we were too stupified to react. Two small squares of a moist semolina cake poised on the edge of a rectangular platter looked down on a decorative pattern of pale techinah and brown pomegranate syrup. We just dipped fingers in and licked.

Amazing.

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The Little Eucalyptus Restaurant is co-owned by chef Moshe Basson and chef Sufyan Awiyech. It’s located at Yannai St. No. 4, City Center, Jerusalem. Tel: 02-6244331.

There is more on Chefs for Peace at Israel21c.org – search for Chefs for Peace.