By Nural Sümbültepe
Izzeldin Bukhari, a Palestinian chef, storyteller, and cultural ambassador, comes from a family with centuries-old Sufi traditions rooted in the Old City of Jerusalem. Bukhari has dedicated his work to preserving and sharing the rich culinary and spiritual heritage of Palestine.
Through his Sacred Cuisine initiative he combines food, history, and storytelling to create meaningful experiences that connect people with Palestinian culture and the deeper values of hospitality, service, and community. His unique approach explores food not only as nourishment, but also as a pathway to understanding identity, spirituality, and the diverse traditions that have shaped Jerusalem and Palestine for generations.
Toronto Spark contributor Nural Sümbültepe spoke to him in advance of his Canadian tour. (See a list of the Sacred Cuisine events in Ontario and Quebec at the bottom of this article.)
Nural Sümbültepe: What is Sacred Cuisine?
Izzeldin Bukhari: Sacred Cuisine is an initiative that I started. The main purpose is to preserve and share the Palestinian culinary heritage specifically the Somi food. I am using the word Somi which derives from the term sawm (fasting) in Arabic to define an ancient plant-based diet in Palestine.
I realized that the Somi tradition was slowly disappearing from our culture. As I learned stories behind the dishes rooted in Somi traditions, Lent, and Christian fasting, I became fascinated and felt the urgency to bring it forward, make it visible and help people understand that while veganism maybe a modern movement now, it has existed in our culture for many centuries.
Somi is commonly understood as food that is essentially vegan and appropriate for Lent. In this sense, it reflects both Christian and Muslim fasting traditions.
NS: I want to bring up my favorite Palestinian, Edward Said, who left many significant books, Orientalism being an epochal one. He also wrote an autobiography, which I have read and reread. There was a passage, where he recalls his family’s daily life in Jerusalem and goes on and on about how central food was in their household and how all the women gathered to plan, prepare, cook, serve food, and host guests. Is there a similar memory from your upbringing that shaped your relationship with food?
Izzeldin Bukhari: To be honest, my interest in cooking came way much later—after I left Palestine and moved to the United States of America. Prior to that I didn’t even imagine that I would be in the food industry or cooking at all. When I was a child, I remember when my dad got into the kitchen. We got excited when he did that. My mom was a great cook, but everything she made was traditional. Whereas, when my dad jumped into the kitchen, he was improvising and utilizing whatever he had, which meant for us, that we’d be eating something different.
Like Edward Said, cooking and eating in our culture was very present and central. I also remember my grandma cooking. She would make a lot of the hobbeze, the greens. She also rolled grape leaves. I remember my other grandma from Gaza made food completely different. In general, preparing and eating food was when the family gatherings happened.
NS: What inspired you to start Sacred Cuisine, having workshops, food tours, telling stories?
Izzeldin Bukhari: I found that cooking is a form of meditation and it is very relaxing. It disconnects me from everything else and makes me feel present in the moment. My life used to be fast-paced. I was always on the go. Whenever I was in the kitchen, I felt relaxed.
What inspired me to start Sacred Cuisine was when I went back to Palestine, I felt the need to learn more and to connect with my heritage again. I tried to relearn about the food, including the ingredients, recipes, and stories behind the dishes. The Sacred Cuisine gave me a platform to share Palestinian culinary heritage, to teach, and tell stories behind the dishes and the history that shaped the cuisine. Food and narratives are intertwined.
NS: Your family comes from a centuries-long Sufi tradition. How is food viewed in the Sufi tradition? Is it more than just a physical nourishment? How do you see the relationship between what we eat and spirituality?
Izzeldin Bukhari: One or two generations ago, my family did Zikr every Thursday, which is a type of meditation. As Sufis, they gathered the people in the community and meditated. After meditation, the Zikr, they eat pilaf, the Bukhari rice. This was something my ancestors did for 300 years, continuously every Thursday until my grandfather’s generation. I remember my father always said the highest form of worshiping in Sufism is to feed someone. This sentence stayed with me.
Sufism is truly one of the philosophies in our culture which places significant emphasis on food, hospitality, and communal meals, particularly as reflected in the teachings of Jalal al-Din Rumi. Sufis use food as a form of medium to talk about the spirituality. Teaching Sufism through food was fascinating for me.
The more I investigated it, the more I found food and Sufism is intertwined. And the best example that illustrates how food was used as a way of teaching by Rumi is the poem The Cook and the Chickpea. The poem is a conversation between a chickpea and a cook. As the chickpea boils in the pot, it protests and asks the cook, “Why are you torturing me?” The cook responds by explaining that this apparent suffering is part of a process of transformation.
Through this metaphor, Rumi suggests that we enter life as raw ingredients, and literally we get cooked is through this experience. It is through the challenges, trials, and experiences of life that we are “cooked” and refined into something greater. What initially feels like hardship is, in fact, a necessary part of our growth and spiritual development.
As a Sufi, as a Muslim person, there is so much for me to discover in that relationship between food and Sufism.
NS: When food is connected to spirituality, it takes a more profound meaning. We see this in the Indigenous cultures across Canada where food is understood not only as physical nourishment, but as a way of honouring relationships with the land, community, fostering gratitude, and respect for resources. Can you elaborate on that what you mentioned earlier about the Somi food and how vegan and vegetarian sources have the spirituality aspect?
Izzeldin Bukhari: As I said earlier, the word Somi derives from the term sawm (fasting) in Arabic to describe an ancient plant-based diet in Palestine. I’m not vegetarian, nor vegan, but I wanted to focus on vegan and vegetarian sources to show the importance of the Somi food. And I felt if I if I cooked meat, it will be hard for people to grasp the history. I come from a Muslim culture and I’m talking about the Christian food and the tradition of Lent. Palestine is the holy land; it’s the birth of all these religions. We all grew up together and we shared much and we still do. The main reason I decided to cook vegetarian vegan is to focus on that Somi concept.
NS: I remember you mentioning somewhere that meat is a delicacy and something rare. It is also not as sustainable as vegan and vegetarian food.
Izzeldin Bukhari: Yes, absolutely. Meat is also a capitalist notion. We are influenced by capitalism. Even if you are not vegetarian or vegan, we must understand that your food cannot always include meat because of the sustainability aspect. Our ancestors didn’t consume this much meat. If we go back in time, people couldn’t afford to eat meat as much as we can today. It is now widely available, but is it good and sustainable?
This is not about being vegetarian or vegan, it is about a balance. Today the consumption of meat is wired into our brain. For example, we get nutrients from a plant-based diet as well. It is a privilege that we have meat every day and we are taking it for granted.
NS: I am no expert, but great cooking starts with fresh and organic ingredients. In your case, those ingredients must come from specific lands and farming communities. Food begins with the land. As a chef and a cultural educator, how have displacement, genocide, and climate change influenced your sources of ingredients, especially when it comes to Palestinian cuisine?
Izzeldin Bukhari: It is very important to cook locally and in a sustainable way in a way that you can support farmers’ initiatives or focusing on the land, the crops, and animals. But, as Palestinians, we get disconnected from our land day by day. There is a lot of change.
When I first started Sacred Cuisine, I was able to cook with Palestinian ingredients, but now it is completely the opposite. A lot of the ingredients I use are not Palestinian. This is not my choice. It is the logistics and the dynamics. It is painful to see that.
Even in Palestine, using ingredients from elsewhere make me feel disconnected from my roots. It is challenging and I carry some bitterness, but that’s our reality as Palestinians. It is hard for people to grasp this reality because there is so much misinformation about Palestine. There are so many details which can make it confusing.
People cannot move and travel freely, but for me as a person from Jerusalem, I have the leverage to move around the country while the people in the West Bank they can’t. The checkpoints, the disturbances, disconnect us from the land and from each other. And on these checkpoints, you’re not allowed to bring your Palestinian produce. If you have eggs, dairy, and meat, you will get fined. [With] so much disconnection in such a small country, it can take you a long time to get from one point to another because checkpoints make it so much harder to shop for ingredients.
NS: That brings me to the issue of the appropriation of Palestinian culinary culture. About ten years ago, I notched Israeli Hummus on the menu of a restaurant in Vancouver. I wondered why it was labelled that way. In the documentary Colonizing Tastebuds, you explore these questions of food, identity, and power.
When we look at countries such as Türkiye, Greece, and Lebanon, we find countless dishes that are shared. Even when a dish’s name originates from a particular language, the dish itself often belongs to a broader regional heritage that transcends national boundaries. Cultures don’t have borders. Yet, in the case of Israel and Palestinian food, the conversation is different. How do you feel about the rebranding of Palestinian cuisine and appropriation?
Izzeldin Bukhari: They call it Israeli hummus because they want to disconnect the people from the land. They want to disconnect you from your roots and where we come from. The recipes come from our ancestors, and they tell you about how our ancestors utilized and improvised the land. It’s knowledge that gathered over years and years of understanding and perfecting these recipes and perfecting these ingredients for the right dishes. Recipes are connected to the land. Calling a dish Israeli that belongs to Palestine is a way of claiming the land.
Food production in Israel is also closely aligned with the logic of capitalism. It’s designed for making money. The Israelis are trying to capitalize on Palestinian food by selling it worldwide. Where I live in Occupied Territories, there is a new dish that they (Israelis) recreated and now it is all over the menus. For example, there was a period of Arayes, a very simple Palestinian dish. It is basically pita stuffed with ground beef, and then we grill the pita bread. It’s a dish worth five shekels. When you pop it on an Israelis menu, suddenly, it’s new and trendy and sells for 50 shekels. They come up with “new dishes” from our old traditional dishes.
Some recipes are ancient. Musakhan is a simple dish made with onions, sumac, and olive oil—ingredients deeply connected to our land and farming traditions. It was considered an everyday Palestinian dish. Today, however, it is appearing in upscale Israeli fine dining and sold at premium prices, like 100 shekels. We see a similar trend with the dish Maqluba. As a Palestinian chef, it is striking for me to see these dishes suddenly “being discovered”. Many Israelis are fully aware of the origins of these dishes yet the dishes are frequently rebranded and marketed and commercialized. That can be obnoxious and dismissive of the people and culture they originate from.
NS: You lead food tours, workshops and host community meals. You collaborate with people from diverse food communities. You are not only a chef but also a cultural educator. How do you use food to tell stories about culture and identity? And across all communities you worked with, is there an experience that has stayed with you the most?
Izzeldin Bukhari: I come from a culture full of history, the birthplace of many religions. A lot of these dishes come with a story. For example, the story of Maqluba, a dish from Jerusalem, dates to 800 years ago when it used to be called bathinjane meaning eggplant. A 12th-century Islamic figure, Saladin (Salah al-Din), came from Iraq to Palestine and defeated the crusaders. The next day the people of the of Jerusalem made a feast to celebrate.
Unfamiliar with the dish he loved the most, Saladin reportedly described it as maqluba, meaning “upside down” in Arabic as he saw that the pot was flipped. The name remined ever since. We cook vegetables with rice on top. Then we flip it upside down and it looks like a cake. It used to be called bathinjane because it was strictly made with eggplants. Today in Palestine, makluba will vary from town to town. But in Jerusalem, it is still mainly made with eggplant.
In Bethlehem it is with cauliflower. If you go to Hebron, they add carrots. In Gaza, they add chickpeas. Same dish, different versions. All depends on what ingredients people have. When I teach cooking classes and run food tours, I mention these stories, how these dishes came to life, and it brings the audience close to our culture and understanding.
NS: It must be hard to talk about food when people in Gaza are starving.
Izzeldin Bukhari: Absolutely. It is very challenging to work with food and talk about food since cooking and sharing food is associated with celebrations. As I talk about food, people in Gaza are starving, including my own family. Even if we have the money, it is still hard access food. The food prices skyrocket. Yes, it’s very challenging, and hard to navigate. That’s always in my consciousness. I’m cooking for people in Europe and other countries, and I’m feeding 100, 250, people at the same time. As I do that, my family is starving as many Palestinians are in Gaza. There is an abundance of food in the world, but it is hard to access it.
Of course, there are other places of the world where it is also challenging for people to access food. Most of the time when I cook for people, it is not about the food; it is about the narratives and the heritage that I must keep alive. That’s the purpose behind Sacred Cuisine. When a person tries my food, I want to let them know that story behind it. It is also a way for me create a path for people to talk about Palestine. This has helped me to cope with the challenges.
NS: Food equals land, right? And your menu comes from Palestine, an occupied land. We, the people from B.C., are very happy to have you here. You are on the Sunshine Coast right now. What’s your experience so far with working and collaborating with people in B.C.?
Izzeldin Bukhari: I’ve been here for a week, and it’s already a blessing. I have already met many passionate people who are very supportive of Palestine. One of my favorite moments so far in this tour is meeting very beautiful people during my first meal was in B.C. A dear friend who has become like a family to me now. Rashmi Singh, the chef of Curry in the Creek. She cooked her wonderful Indian food, which was my first meal here in B.C. It was such a warm, welcoming meal, very delicious. I was also given many edible gifts and the ingredients from different local people from the Sunshine Coast that evening.
NS: Yes, I know Rashmi and her family well. Thirty years ago, she charmed me with her generous cooking and hospitality, and we became an instant family. I am glad you two are collaborating. Izzeldin, thank you for this interview and your valuable contributions to food and culture especially at such delicate times. Your passion shines though. I can’t wait to try all the dishes in Vancouver.
Events
August 18: First United Church, Westboro, Ottawa, 6:30 to 9:30 p.m.
August 19: HiFi Lounge, Ottawa, 5 to 7 p.m.
August 23: Omnivore St-Laurent, Montreal, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.
August 24: Cafe Pastel Rita, Montreal, 6 to 9 p.m.
August 27: Fabergé Restaurant, Montreal, 6:30 p.m.
September 3: Another Story Bookshop, Toronto, 7 to 8:30 p.m.
September 5: Afrobeat Kitchen, Toronto, 12 to 4 p.m.
September 12: Drom Taverna, Toronto, 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.
For tickets to Sacred cuisine events, visit the website. Nural Sümbültepe is a B.C. teacher. The Toronto Spark is on Bluesky @torontospark.bsky.social.
