Browse recipes

Eggplants burnt black over a flame until the flesh collapses, then beaten with tahini, lemon and garlic. Smoky, loose and nothing like a puree of raw eggplant.

Chickpeas, tahini, garlic and lemon blended smooth, loosened with aquafaba (the liquid from the chickpea can) so it stays creamy without extra fat. Served with carrot, cucumber and pepper sticks.

Lemon juice and a whole bunch of mint blitzed with ice into a pale-green frozen slush. The drink of every Levantine summer street.

A pale, fragrant cordial of lemon, sugar and rose water, diluted to order. Floral and cold and old-fashioned, and it keeps for weeks.

Lentils and rice cooked together under a heap of deeply caramelized onions, warmed with cumin, coriander and a whisper of cinnamon. The most filling plate in the set: the lentils make it stick with you far longer than rice alone.

Sesame paste and hot sugar syrup worked together until it sets into a dense, flaky slab that melts on the tongue. Three ingredients, one critical temperature.

A smooth, golden lentil soup finished with paprika butter and a hard squeeze of lemon. Cheap, fast, and one of the most comforting bowls there is.

A tray of vegetables roasted hard, spooned over shop-bought hummus with lemon and parsley. Assembly more than cooking, and endlessly adaptable.