Five Palestinian Chefs on How Identity Shapes Their Restaurants

In a culture that is famous for its hospitality, my Palestinian family in Rockville, Maryland practiced extreme hospitality. Opening this bakery was a way to bring back our memories from childhood. With restaurants from many other cultures, stating the country of origin is not a political stance. But for us, this simple statement becomes politicized. This is largely unique to our experience. Our bakery just focuses on manoushe (flatbread often cooked with olive oil and za’atar), but it’s important that we call out that our za’atar is Palestinian and specifically from Jenin. People say that it is the most savory za’atar in the world, and that’s what we try to focus on: the food.

We made our own version of manoushe inspired by the hot honey craze. We use our ackawi cheese blend, a salty white cheese from Palestine, and then instead of pepperoni we use sujuk (a dry, spicy, fermented sausage), and to make the hot honey we use Aleppo peppers. We get a lot of Israeli regulars, and we’ve formed a friendship because they love the same food we love. People from all over are really stepping up and starting to care for each other. It’s just a reminder of the difference between the internet and our reality.

Community is more important than ever during these times. And the role that food plays in that is huge. These past few months the response has been incredible. People have been coming in nonstop. The hospitality in Palestine is something we will never forget. That is what we want to leave our customers with here. If they start associating that hospitality with our Palestinian bakery then we’ve done our job.

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A pop-up concept, opened in January 2021

Marcelle Afram, chef and owner of the Palestinian pop-up Shababi, delivering bags of Shababi chicken.Photograph Shuran Huang

In 2020, when COVID hit, I was working at a Michelin-starred restaurant, but I wanted to connect to my roots and share my experience in the diaspora. My grandparents lived through the Nakba and it felt important to honor them. Shababi is a nod to the street vendors that would sell charcoal-roasted chickens in Ramallah, Bethlehem, and Jerusalem. My grandfather used to have a tour bus service based in Bethlehem before being displaced in 1948, and the chicken vendors were one of his favorite stops on his tours. I opened Shababi as a pop-up in 2021, in my friend’s deli in Virginia, with no expectations, but the response was amazing.

I’m very Palestinian and I’m very American—but I’m also not much of either because we’re all in the diaspora. I’ve tried to find myself in food while respecting the flavors of the homeland. My goal is to uplift us as a people, and I will never shy away from labeling my food as Palestinian. There are always people who think that my identity is negotiable because of how Palestine is debated in politics, especially today. But I believe food is a bridge to help people understand who I am and where I come from. Right now, my community, we are crying. We are suffering. But I feel lucky: because of Shababi, I am an accidental activist. I’m involved in a Palestinian-led coalition, Hospitality for Humanity, which is composed of chefs, farmers, food media creators, beverage and hospitality professionals, all uniting from diverse backgrounds to urge our politicians to call for a ceasefire and an end to the Gaza genocide.

Shababi means “my youthful people” and it comes from my childhood when I was surrounded by cousins. When the food was ready my grandma would say “yalla shababi” meaning “come all you kids.” My grandmothers put everything into their food when they cooked for 50 and I try to do the same. We’re telling our customers to take their fill. We don’t take the responsibility lightly.

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One of Bon Appétit’s Best New Restaurants of 2022

My father was one of the first people to introduce hummus to Kansas City. In all of his food endeavors, he always described his food as “Middle Eastern.” When COVID hit he decided he wanted to open another restaurant, but I knew it needed to be different. It had to be Palestinian. We need to claim our identity and tell our story. I saw my dad conform for safety. But I thought that enough was enough.

Our goal was to honor the fact that many Palestinians live outside of Palestine. At Baba’s Pantry, we are open to new ideas. Baba’s always cooking in the kitchen and he always wants others to cook alongside him and sometimes these magical fusions happen. We have this dish called Bambi’s Nachos which are made with homemade tortillas and covered in salata Arabi (Arabic salad), torshi (pickled vegetables), olives, tahini, hummus, yogurt sauce, shawarma chicken, sumac onions, pickled turnips, and olive oil. We are Palestinian, but we don’t always make things the traditional way because of our circumstances.

I was conditioned to think that the moment I say I’m Palestinian, I’ll be associated with violence—and therefore invite violence into my space. But that’s not true. Food is my nonviolent protest. I want people to feel the joy of what it means to connect to Palestinians outside of what others say. At the core it is about sharing and exchanging the pleasures of food and nourishment—if that remains the same, then it’s all Palestinian. Let’s focus on who we are: loving people who have a lot of joy to offer.

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A contemporary casual restaurant, opened in August 2021

Arafat Herzallah, owner of Freekeh.Photograph by Gabriela Hasbun

My decision to open a Palestinian restaurant and stand by my identity comes from passion.

Sometimes people describe their Palestinian restaurants as “Mediterranean” to be neutral, but I know who I am and I am proud of where I come from. My dad is from Gaza and my mother is from Jordan and I wanted to use our home recipes at Freekeh. I had been in the restaurant business for over 25 years but had never opened a Palestinian restaurant. It was time.