A Global Israeli Cuisine... and Zhoug

Updated: Jul 22

This was originally going to be a post about hummus. I'd done some reading on the most ubiquitous ingredient in conversations around Israeli cuisine and nationalism; the chickpea. I selected a hummus recipe from Leah Koenig's Modern Jewish Cooking and left it on the kitchen counter. I intended it to languish there for a few days until I got around to making it and returned home not long after to find it promptly made by my husband Stuart, who has thrown himself further into domestic egalitarianism since I've begun my PhD, in this case resulting in delicious hummus that got consumed too quickly for me to take any blog-worthy pictures.

So I pivoted to zhoug (pronunciation: sh-koog. At least that's how we say it and I would love to hear if we are totally wrong). Zhoug is a spicy, tangy, delicious sauce, made up in bulk by parsley and cilantro. We first discovered zhoug two springs ago after taking on a series of shakshuka pop-ups at Revelator Birmingham. It's great on hummus too, or swirled into Bon Appetit's Green Shakshuka (a new favorite, we do it with feta).

(Zhoug = The Green Stuff)

(Deep into our short-lived pop-up career)

The zhoug recipe we used (and still use) is from Shaya of New Orleans. You may know the name as Shaya took home a James Beard for Best Restaurant in 2016. Shaya, on their website, describes their menu as one that "marries Israeli staples with Southern flavors." Shaya draws on Israeli cuisine as "a grand mosaic, drawing influence and inspiration from North Africa, the Middle East, Eastern Europe, Turkey and Greece." I've not eaten at Shaya, but their menu is reflective of what I associate as typical Israeli foods; hummus, baba ganoush, and labneh all with "Southern twists." One of the hummus dishes is topped with fried chicken and the mudajara is made with black-eyed peas (which you'll know from my last post has some North African-Jewish standing too).

The same year that Shaya won the James Beard award, I had the pleasure of conducting an interview with Yael Raviv, author of Falafel Nation: Cuisine and the Making of National Identity in Israel. Dr. Raviv has a performance studies background and her work in this book (read it! it's so good!) focuses on the role of food in the making of a cohesive Israeli national identity. The creation of an Israeli cuisine, she claims, was crucial in the creation of an Israeli national identity. Jacob Bessen, in his excellent 2016 Student Brief in Gastronomica makes arguments in the same vein on what he refers to as "culinary Zionism." Bessen, drawing on Benedict Anderson, states "Any modern nationalism like Zionism is confronted with the challenge of 'reading nationalism genealogically--as the expression of a historical of serial continuity" (Bessen, 22). Cuisine is part and parcel of historical narrative.

(Hummus in Israel, eaten with raw onions)

Before the release of Falafel Nation, Raviv was quoted in a 2002 New York Times Article entitled, "A History of the Mideast in a Humble Chickpea." The article begins, "It's nice to think that a cherished food brings enemies together, easing tension and misunderstanding. But the world's rawest conflicts can include disagreements over common foodstuffs." The article goes on to trace controversies over a beloved chickpea-based product; falafel, the importance of falafel to Israeli tourism and national identity, what it says about territory and history. Raviv explains that Jews in earlier periods modeled behavior off the local Arab population in a variety of ways, such as donning kaffiyeahs or consuming local foods in a process of "localization, or putting roots down in soil." Claudia Roden, Egyptian author of The Book of Jewish Food calls attention to (my own) potential to Ashkenazify (new word) everything by pointing out that Jews in Egypt and Syria have their own history with foods we associate as Middle Eastern. If you're unclear on the controversy around all of this, go do some quick reading on the "hummus wars." And what's been on my mind lately is an additional layering by the globalization, and sometimes consequent simplification, of dishes with contested national origins. Take "Sabra" hummus; now US-owned, but also the Hebrew word for a prickly fruit, popularly referring to native-born Israeli Jews. "Sabra" is associated with the shedding of diaspora identity (also important to Zionism/nationalism). Ari Ben Canaan from Leon Uris' Exodus is a "sabra."

All of this to ask more questions than I'll answer, and to process some of what I've been reading and eating. How might "culinary Zionism," "gastronationalism" (DeSoucey, 2010) and the localization of global products illuminate the stakes of hummus wars, falafel debates, or the growing popularity of Israeli food in the US (from Sabra to Shaya). And what about emerging cookbooks on a distinctly Palestinian cuisine, Reem Kassis' The Palestinian Table (2017) and Joudie Kalla's Palestine on a Plate (2016), to name two. A line sticks with me from a recent (completely unrelated) reading from my American Studies class (Power and Progress on the Prairie by Thomas Bilosi): "Where there is resistance there is power'," he quotes anthropologist Lila Abu Lughod, adding, "and we should follow the lines of resistance carefully to uncover forms of power that are not easily recognized for what they are" (Bilosi, 164). The implications for the study of food seem vast.

Enjoy Shaya's zhoug (if not lightly)!

Green Chili Zhoug

(Adapted from Panna Cooking)

1 bunch of cilantro, chopped (stems are fine)

1 bunch flat-leafed parsley, de-stemmed and chopped

1 jalapeno, de-seeded and chopped

1 T olive oil

1/4 C white vinegar (or apple cider vinegar, which gives a little more tang)

1/4 C water

1/2 t white sugar

1/4 t ground cloves

1/4 t ground cardamon

1/2 t ground cumin

zest from half an orange

1 clove of garlic, chopped

salt to taste

Blend it all together. You can play with the amount of herbs, depending on the size of your bunches, you can always add more as needed (but trying to retain the ratio of cilantro:parsley). You can also add more water as needed. Blend until it's become a cohesive paste and the herbs are not separating from the oil. Eat zhoug on eggs, hummus, shakshukas of all stripes, vegetables, rice, and straight from the food processor.

A Global Israeli Cuisine... and Zhoug

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