A while ago, I realized it was time for me to learn how to cook. Not (sorry, parents) so I can feed a husband or children, but because... well, I love to eat.
So when presented with the opportunity to cook alongside legendary chef and food folklorist Moshe Basson, I pounced.
The Eucalyptus, chef Basson’s restaurant, is tucked into a cozy corner just outside the walls of Jerusalem’s Old City, where the noise of traffic gives way to the sounds of birds and soft music. The cobblestone streets are as much of a staple of the city as Basson himself is.
After taking a moment to greet the two cats that frequent the location – whose names I have since been informed are “Get out of here” and a word I will not repeat – I stepped into The Eucalyptus kitchen, ready to learn how to cook a turkey and figure out just what “biblical food” is. Because Chef Basson, according to the restaurant’s website, “serves a modern interpretation of biblical cuisine.”
Cooking the turkey
While I can definitely say I learned a lot from my afternoon with Basson, I never actually learned a recipe. He’d hand me an ingredient, say, “Put some in,” and I just... would.
Our turkey, the way I remember it, had some almonds, some rice, some spices, some pomegranate... basically, everything we used was measured in “some.” I assumed at first that this man who’d been cooking longer than I’ve been alive must have had the recipe memorized, but then he casually mentioned that he’d thought up the idea a week earlier.
Okay, so obviously he spent hours developing this recipe, right? And he probably just didn’t want to tell me because then I’d have to come back to his restaurant, right?
When I took my first bite of that turkey, something clicked: When Basson cooks, he reaches into the past. In more ways than one.
'The voices of those who came before you'
I told him that when I cook at home, I never really use measurements, often joking that the voices of my ancestors will tell me when to stop.
“Do you hear the voices of those who came before you when you cook?” I asked. “Is that why this meal has no recipe?”
His face lit up, and we connected in that moment in a way that felt special to me. This world-class chef and a journalist who melted her own microwave (long story) connected over a meal, combining the best of our cultures and discussing this shared experience we’d never really verbalized before.
As we cooked and ate, Basson told me stories about his life, every choice and lesson learned that led to his being the “food archaeologist” that he is today, and how planting a eucalyptus tree in his backyard as a child inspired the name of his restaurant; one small memory turned into his legacy.
The bests meals are lived
I don’t want to give too much of our conversation away (you’ll have to watch our video on The Jerusalem Post YouTube channel to hear that, and to see our amazing biblical Thanksgiving!), but I’ll give you a taste (haha) of our chat.
When asked about his guilty pleasure food, the answer was simple: vanilla ice cream. As a man who is so meticulous about what he cooks with and eats, sometimes he just wants a sweet treat.
If you only make one recipe from The Eucalyptus cookbook, make shakshuka. For Basson, it’s a quintessentially Israeli recipe, can work at any time, and is overall pretty great.
So no, I don’t have a recipe for our turkey, but I do have a newfound respect for cooking without fear, or measurements, and for the stories that sneak into a dish when you’re not looking.
Basson may be a chef, a folklorist, and a food archaeologist, but above all, he’s someone who reminded me that the best meals aren’t written down. They’re lived.