by Hisham Assaad
As a Lebanese Palestinian, my journey to rediscover my heritage has been difficult. With decades of oppression, colonization, and displacement, it has been challenging to maintain our traditions and practices. Coming from a family that was expelled and had to live in a refugee camp in Lebanon then flee again due to the Lebanese civil war to the UAE, some part of the history had to be tucked away to evade prejudice from those who had strong feelings against Palestinians.
A photo from 2015 of the Dbayeh refugee camp in Lebanon, where generations of Palestinians have lived and preserved traditions despite hardships.
I grew an interest in learning and preserving more of the fading recipes and the stories behind them, especially when those stories weren’t talked about much due to fear of standing out as Palestinians in a Lebanese environment.
For me, reclaiming my heritage through food has been an act of resistance against the forces that seek to erase and oppress Palestinian culture. By learning how to cook traditional dishes, sharing them on my website and my cookbook, and educating people about the history and practices behind the recipes, I am able to assert my Palestinian identity and challenge the narratives that seek to erase us.
A produce shack at the entrance of the Dbayeh refugee camp in Lebanon.
Of course, reclaiming one's heritage is never easy, particularly when it comes to a culture as rich as Palestinian. The ongoing occupation of our land and the violence and oppression that Palestinians face on a daily basis make it challenging to celebrate our heritage without feeling a sense of loss or pain. But through the power of food and storytelling, we keep the word about Palestine alive and bring more awareness to the struggles of the people living under occupation.
Documenting recipes, either on my website or in my cookbooks, was a way to learn more about our traditions and practices and preserve them in the face of cultural appropriation. The same can now be accounted for with the Lebanese culture, food, and territories.
Pages from Hisham's cookbook TABOON, filled with stories and recipes that connect the Palestinian and Lebanese diaspora to their roots.
It was a clear goal for me to celebrate our foods and our recipes and teach them to others who are interested in learning more about our history. My grandma didn’t share much but short positive stories about Palestine they were kicked out of. I had to look elsewhere and read about the Nakba and the Lebanese civil war and stories shared online about the places my family has lived in. I had to ask around for stories that were not written, look up recipes and search for traditions that people practiced. Some of those were recipes made all the time while growing up but the knowledge I’ve collected shed a different light on them.
Hisham’s mother preparing Maftoul, a Palestinian specialty, the traditional way she learned from her mother-in-law.
Some of these are recipes my family has been religiously making and a common theme connects them all: gatherings. My mom makes maftoul, the original form of moghrabieh (or giant/pearl couscous) with a lamb and bone stew with onions and chickpeas. She learned to make the maftoul, the cracked wheat meticulously rolled in flour and olive oil and water, by hand from my paternal grandma.
We never make this dish for our small family only. We’d always have someone over; my friends, or one of our close neighbors or relatives. The tupperware of leftovers I take to eat on my own later don’t taste the same without people to share this with.
Other recipes that are better with people around are the Easter Maamoul and Yellow Bread (Kaak Asfar). Traditionally, neighbors used to go from one house to another on consecutive days during the Holy Week preceding Easter to help one another in making the Easter cookies.
My mom, my sister and Zakiyé, our neighbor, preparing Maamoul cookies for Easter during the holy week—a cherished communal tradition.
Nowadays, it is a smaller gathering but we still get together to shape the dough, fill it, roll it, and pinch it with a special tong in careful patterns. Oh the times I was scolded by my mom for pinching a different pattern or pinching it deeply, or not deep enough. The ones that are not up to her standard she would pack them for me to eat and she’d keep the ones she is proud to show off.
Kaak Asfar is a different story. In the Dbayeh camp where I spent most of my years growing up, the neighborhood bakeries schedule appointments for those who want to bake their batches of this yellow spiced bread.
Kaak Asfar, a turmeric-spiced bread deeply tied to Palestinian Easter traditions, with boiled eggs and labneh on Easter Sunday morning
Mom would prepare the dough in the morning and by the afternoon, and depending on the appointment she was able to score, the dough would be shaped into balls and covered in more olive oil and pressed into a well-greased mold to print a pattern on it before it’s placed into trays and baked until golden. More olive oil is brushed on top to prevent the bread from drying out before it’s consumed. The smell of baked bread with turmeric and mahlab and olive oil fills the whole neighborhood whether it is from the bakeries or from homes whose owners preferred to bake at home.
Hisham and his mom preparing Kaak Asfar at the bakery.
Mom and I would share one of the freshly baked breads and spread a generous spoonful of Labneh on top just to “taste” how they turned out before packing the rest to share and distribute on Sunday morning after the Hajmeh, the Easter morning mass at dawn.
These recipes are dear to my heart. They are ones I share with others to tell more people about them and use them as conversation starters to talk about my heritage and bring up the unjust circumstances Palestinians are under, whether in Lebanon or in Palestine under occupation.
Hisham shares Palestinian recipes on his website and captivating captures on his social media profiles, full of identity and social commentary as well as history and culture.
Food is part of my identity, and it has been significant for me to talk about ever since I learned about all the injustices that my people had to go through and the cultural appropriation vultures who wouldn’t miss an opportunity to snatch our history from under our feet. I have taken it as my duty to keep the word out, hoping our history won’t be forgotten.
Hisham Assaad is a Lebanese cookbook author and chef, food stylist, and photographer who shares recipes and stories on his blog, Cookin5m2. Raised in a food-loving family who were expelled to Lebanon from their village in Palestine in 1948, Hisham grew up in Dbayeh, a Palestinian refugee camp on the outskirts of Beirut. He learned about Levantine food by watching his mother (a talented home cook) and father (from a family of butchers) in the kitchen. They bestowed the basics on him and he took it from there. Hisham brings his heritage as part of the Palestinian refugees to bear on recipes in danger of being lost to history or cultural appropriation, preserving them for future generations.
He has worked as a guide on boutique food tours of Beirut and the surrounding countryside for Taste Lebanon and is a frequent guest chef at local restaurants and festivals. He also works as a humanitarian clown with Clown Me In, a local NGO that seeks to democratise the arts and go where love and laughter is needed.
His work has been featured in print and online media as well as on television and radio, including a weekly radio feature with a well-known Lebanese host, giving culinary tips and recipes since 2020.
Hisham has published two books: TABOON (2024) and Bayrut The Cookbook (2021).
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