Israeli cuisine: Middle Eastern influences

Like halva, hummus is an Arabic word, this time for chickpeas, or garbanzo beans.

Tehina-based halva is always Israel’s base of choice (photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)
Tehina-based halva is always Israel’s base of choice
(photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)
Israeli cuisine is having a moment. Israeli-inspired eateries are now two-a-penny in London and New York, and a sprinkle of sumac here, a drizzle of date honey there has become a casual occurrence amongst the fashionable foodie crowd on Instagram. The wondrous thing about it all is how eclectic Israeli food really is; a mix of the fruits of Israeli agricultural innovation, traditional Jewish dishes from around the world and food from the Middle East.
I call these the three “layers” of Israeli cuisine, and am exploring them in detail in this series of three articles. In the first installment, we discussed dishes that immigrant Jewish communities brought with them when they settled in Israel, and examined how such foods had been tweaked slightly, or significantly, to the point that they are considered an Israeli national dish. In each installment, I provide a couple of “case studies” to demonstrate, last time it was malabi and sabich.
Part 2 discusses the Middle Eastern influence on Israeli cuisine, food that was already being devoured in these parts pre-1948, which our modern state has, again, tweaked – in sometimes subtle and sometimes significant ways – to earn the right to (at least vague) ownership. Our case studies will be halva and hummus.
Halva
The word “halva” comes from the Arabic root helw, meaning sweet. It is a treat enjoyed all over the world, though its roots are almost certainly Arabic. The first recorded written recipe for halva dates back to the 13th century, and a similar recipe appears in a cookbook from Moorish Spain, involving a mixture of ground pistachios, rose water and sugar sandwiched between two-rolled out sheets of boiled sugar, honey, sesame oil and flour, then cut into triangles.
In countries such as India and Pakistan, flour-based halvas, in addition to semolina and vegetable-based versions (think yams and beetroots) are extremely popular, but in Israel and the Middle East, nut-based halvas dominate. Sesame seed, i.e. tehina-based halva, is always Israel’s base of choice. Though sesame seeds are native to Africa and not the Middle East, they flourished once imported to Egypt, and then beyond. Their popularity here is largely thanks to their abundance.
So what makes Israeli halva different to that eaten in other Middle Eastern countries? Not much. However, like malabi, halva has gained a level of popularity in Israel that trumps most other locations. One reason behind halva’s cult status here is that it’s parve and thus doesn’t conflict with any kosher laws.
Israelis are also more open to experimentation, which has sparked a new generation of halva flavors. In addition to traditional pistachio and vanilla, cacao bean, lotus biscuit and Oreo flavours are just as common and beloved. Perhaps it is our embrace of innovation that has kept halva relevant.
Hummus
Like halva, hummus is an Arabic word, this time for chickpeas, or garbanzo beans. As the name would suggest, this dish is of Arabic descent, probably. Never has ownership been more fought for – Lebanon’s attempt to formally register hummus as a Lebanese dish and the ensuing “Hummus Wars” come to mind. It is perhaps the most valued dish of the Middle East.

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Chickpeas and fava beans (more on those later) are some of the most ancient foods of the Middle East, dating back 10,000 years. Plato and Socrates cited the nutritional benefits of chickpeas and Arabic cookbooks from the Middle Ages document a chickpea puree, hummus’s ancestor. Hummus may even have been around in biblical times. Israeli writer Meir Shalev attributed the dish that Boaz fed to Ruth to an early version of hummus, citing a mistranslation of the word vinegar, which actually referred to chickpeas. Even if this dish was made of chickpeas, however, it was likely more similar to the puree documented in the Arabic cookbooks than what we consider hummus today.
The question is: when does a puree become hummus b’tehina, containing the core ingredients so integral to the spread: tehina, lemon, garlic, salt and olive oil? The earliest record of something resembling today’s hummus dates back to 13th century Egypt. That is not to say that hummus began as a solely Egyptian dish; due to trade, particularly between Egypt and Greece, many dishes were swapped and shared.
So far, there doesn’t seem to be anything Israeli about hummus, but fast forward to the modern day and there are two prominent differences in the ways Israelis eat hummus compared to the rest of the Middle East.
First, the accompaniments: the addition of a hard-boiled egg is atypical of Arab eateries, and probably due to Jewish immigrants’ influence, as is the addition of pickled cucumbers. In Arab-run establishments, a hot sauce of green chilies chopped finely in lemon juice breaks up the creamy, rich hummus, whereas in Jewish-run eateries, Yemenite s’hug, made with cilantro, chilies and garlic, often takes its place.
Second, unlike in Lebanon, Syria and Greece, where hummus is served as an appetizer or as part of a mere selection, hummus in Israel is the main dish. In Egypt, ful mudammas – a puree of fava beans with olive oil, garlic, lemon juice and often cumin – is eaten in a similar way, however it is almost exclusively a breakfast dish and is, obviously, based on fava beans instead of chickpeas. So Israel has blended the legume-eating habits of the Middle East for an original take.
Ful mudammas is popular in Israel, too, though it is always served as an accompaniment to hummus, dolloped on top, and not a dish in its own right. Interestingly, the probable reason for this is favism, an intolerance to fava beans, or the pollen of the Vicia faba plant, which is very common in Jewish males of Iraqi, Yemenite or Kurdish origin. The health of Israelis also plays into our eating habits.
In Part 3, we will examine modern Israeli cooking – specifically how agricultural innovation, culture and climate influence the way we eat, and the perspectives of Israel’s hottest chefs.