National Cuisine Is a Useful Illusion
My first daughter was born in a London hospital, but her surroundings soon felt very Palestinian. By 6 a.m. the morning after she arrived, my mother had brought ijjeh (a herb frittata often made for new mothers) stuffed inside a pita slathered with labneh (a strained yogurt) to my bedside. In the afternoon, she returned with hilbeh (a fenugreek-semolina cake), purported to improve milk supply.


























