Anything to declare? My thoughts, observations and experiences as I set out to see the world, meet the people in it and eat the food.

Passport & Plate - Musakhan

Palestine | Thursday, March 5, 2015 | 5 photos

Ingredients
Good quality olive oil
Onion - about one per person
One piece of chicken per person (a whole chicken can be used if serving a large number of people)
Sumac
Allspice
Cardamom
Salt
Pepper
Red wine (optional, and something with a bit of a kick like Shiraz is best)
Pine nuts
1 piece of taboon bread per person - this is hard to find outside of the Palestinian Territories, so you can substitute any flat bread. A large pitta (thick as possible) is probably the easiest to find.

 

How to prepare this recipe
Prepare the chicken by covering it in olive oil and plenty of sumac, allspice, salt and pepper, it needs to form a crust once it's cooked.

If cooking a whole chicken, roast it in an oven preheated to 220C for approximately 1 hour, or until the juices run clear when a knife is inserted in the chicken.

If using chicken pieces, cook in a frying pan with some extra olive oil on a low-medium heat until cooked.

While the chicken is cooking, cut the onions into half rings and cook them on a low heat in enough oil to cover them. Cook them until they're translucent and then remove them and drain the oil. Putting them on a piece of paper towel is a good way to do this. Don't throw away the oil they've been cooking in.

When the onions are drained, toss them with sumac, allspice, cardamom, pepper, salt and a couple of splashes of red wine if you're using it. Season them to taste.

Once the chicken is ready, put the bread under a grill to warm it, making sure it doesn't crisp up, then brush one side with the saved oil from the onions. Add the onions mixture and put back under the grill to warm the onions, being careful not to crisp them or the bread.

Put the pine nuts in a frying pan with a tiny splash of olive oil and salt and slightly brown, this will only take a minute or two.

Serve the chicken on top of the bread (if you're using a whole chicken, cut it into pieces) and sprinkle with pine nuts.

It can be eaten with a knife and fork, or tear the bread and the chicken together with your hands. You will need a paper napkin if you go the hand route, but it's always more enjoyable eating with your hands.

 

The story behind this recipe
With a waft of sumac, some cardamom, cinnamon and fresh baking bread, I am instantly in the Old City of Jerusalem or Bethlehem. I can hear the stall holders calling out prices in rapid rolling Arabic, I can see the multitude of coloured vegetables, (some of it fluorescent purple and yellow) and I am in heaven, my mouth salivating.

The Middle East is somewhere I will go back to for the rest of my life, and for a month in the northern summer of 2013, I stayed with a Palestinian family in Bethlehem, on a study tour. I left about five kilograms heavier from all the food I ate. Arabs love to feed you, and don't quite understand "I'm full"... "How can you be full, you haven't eaten for an hour?"

Rima, the mother of the family I lived with, is a tiny woman, with a fiery temper, who loves to cook. She taught me to cook mahklubah, harissa, malfouf, and in return I taught her to make sushi and good old Australian lamingtons.

Rima also taught me to make musakhan, one of my all time favourite Palestinian dishes. I'd first come across it years before on another trip, a friend's sister made it and I fell in love with the simple, but rich flavour of the chicken and caramelised onions cooked in sumac and allspice served on taboon (a type of Arabic bread) with pinenuts.

It's one of those comfort dishes, easy to make, full of flavour that leaves you feeling satisfied.

Making this dish takes me back to that summer, and the time I spent with Rima and her family. The memories of trying to learn Arabic, practical jokes played, my pineapple ice cream birthday cake, and the overwhelming welcoming feeling of belonging. Arabs are amongst the kindest, most hospitable people I have met on my travels.

So, every time I make this (or any of the other Palestinian dishes I learnt to make), I am transported to her kitchen, and I can feel her hovering over my shoulder, telling me "la, la haik!" (no, no like this), always making sure I prepare it properly.