Dear reader,
Since last Friday’s check-in, not much has changed, except that we are now 11 days into the same war that keeps on escalating every day, if not every hour.
When it comes to food, I don’t know if you’re feeling the same, but I haven’t been craving anything. It almost feels like I’m not allowed to during these times. The only thing I’m craving is stability.
I haven’t had a real appetite these past two weeks. I imagine many of you feel the same way. Food becomes a strange notion in times like these. When displaced families don’t know if they’ll even be able to eat at all today, food becomes logistics, not pleasure.
The only silver lining is that I’m eating more home-cooked meals than ever. My mom is on a culinary streak, and getting back to her kitchen after work is the only thing I’ve been looking forward to. But even that has created a war between the two of us. Yesterday, tensions peaked over a plate of okra. My mom said it was "exactly like loubieh b zeit," a marketing tactic on her part. To me, it looked like a food identity crisis, and the texture was questionable. When she suggested making me eggs in the air fryer, I snapped. I said I’d make them myself, on the stove, "the way eggs are supposed to be made."
I told her that after work, I wanted to come home to a dish I actually like and can enjoy. I’m pretty sure I sounded like an abusive alcoholic husband.
I made the eggs with sujuk. I was so out of it that I forgot the butter. They ended up charred and looked like a pancake. I ate them with labneh. I’d give the whole thing a solid 7/10. It wasn't a great meal, but it was mine. With everything around me being out of my control, I wanted to hold at least one flame this week, even if just the one under my frying pan.
This is what our lives look like right now. Burnt eggs, half-hearted salads and the relief of finding a plate of food waiting for you at home.
In the middle of the madness outside, these ridiculous, tiny moments start to matter more than they would on normal days. Right now, that friction is the closest thing to an appetite I have.
Stay safe, and eat properly if you can. All we have is each other, our families and the food on our tables.
Melissa Manouchakian
Distribution editor
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There’s a reason we get protective over how our food is meant to be made, especially right now. Having zero control over the sky, we cling to the traditions we can still touch. Whether it’s the communal ovens of the North or the 'jeren' in our grandmothers' kitchens, Kibbeh is the map of where we’ve been and what we’ve survived. Explore its history here.
