Honey & Co: At Home: Middle Eastern recipes from our kitchen

Love and cooking. Even the terminology overlaps: things can be raw, tender, pliable, sweet till they’ve soured. Things are at boiling point, smoking hot, on a knife’s edge. Dramas by the kitchen sink abound.

After a week of watching too much American TV, it struck me as odd that we never sit down together for a romantic dinner – coming home to a beautifully set table, soft music, candles. It should be easy for us: we can cook and lay a table, and anyone can light a candle. I can do this, I thought, and it’s not often that I think myself capable of doing things I see on American TV.

Something special. I chose an elaborate recipe for Chinese poached fish in a sweet and sour sauce. I got all the ingredients, the candles, the flowers… I should have known I was heading for a fall. Even on American TV the romantic dinner never goes to plan – he comes home to break up with her, she realises she doesn’t love him anymore. I had my music on, a glass of wine on the kitchen counter and a recipe that demanded all my attention. Like a low-budget sitcom, my dinner would turn out to be a farce, but for now I was oblivious, even as I took a big gulp of the soy marinade, thinking it was my drink.

I made a new marinade and set the table, arranging the house to the best of my abilities. I don’t always see the things that annoy her, so I dimmed the lights to conceal any mess, waiting with the candles till just before she came home from work. Almost done.

My wife was alarmed when she arrived, all her suspicions aroused. What was all this for? What had I done? What was wrong? And she was not the only one alarmed: one of the candles was right beside a dying, shrivelled plant, both under the fire detector, which duly started to blare, drowning the soft music and all thoughts of romance. We ran frantically around in a dark apartment, bumping into each other and the furniture, barking instructions at one another. Turn on the lights! Open the windows! Grabbing whatever we could, we fanned the ceiling in an effort to make that horrible noise stop, while the neighbours came banging at our door – to save us or watch us burn, we are still unsure.

When the sirens had died down and the neighbours had gone home, I was left in a brightly-lit, wind-swept apartment with upturned furniture and an angry wife who was trying to get her heart rate down, calculating in her head how many years of her life she had lost in the last three minutes, thinking perhaps that a shorter life would be a preferable option to the prospect of a long life lived with me.

But still, there was dinner to be had. It looked and smelled glorious, and a bite to eat would surely calm the nerves. I brought out the fish with its glistening sauce on a platter, a pot of fragrant rice. All would be well.

‘A bit salty, no?’, she says. I agree, but I’m puzzled. There was no salt in the recipe, just a bit of soy sauce and four tablespoons of sugar.

‘Did you use the sugar on the shelf or in the drawer?’, she asks, guessing the answer and enlightening me: ‘The shelf is where we keep the sugar; salt lives in the drawer. You’d know that if you ever did anything around this house’. And with that line, romance left our home that night. Date night for us ended with a bowl of plain rice, a heart racing for all the wrong reasons and a fair bit of anger.

Lessons learned: grand gestures are best avoided, and American TV should be consumed in moderation.

Our romance has always been expressed in more quotidian ways, like spending twelve hours in a kitchen together without killing each other, and still wanting to go home together after that. Coming home exhausted to an empty fridge, wanting to collapse on the floor but still walking into that kitchen, and coming out of it with something tasty and easy for your tired and hungry loved one.

Potato and feta fritters

These fritters are my secret weapon. They have a lot going for them: salty and sweet, crisp and tender, slightly naughty but plenty nice, and they possess the magical ability to make my wife happy. No matter how much laundry is in the basket or if her husband forgot to place the vegetable order for Saturday, these will always put a smile on her face. I don’t cook them often – once every year or two. Partly because I hate frying, partly because my wife is quite cheery usually, and partly because I don’t want to destroy the magic. But every time I do, it works.

There are few ingredients here, all quite simple, and no wizardry of technique. The success of this dish relies wholly on the attention you pay to the process: the grating, squeezing and gentle mixing; the right temperature for the oil; and the right cooking time. Nothing too taxing, but nothing can be dismissed.

If cooking is part of your life, you’ll have similar dishes in your repertoire. Something simple for someone special. If you give these fritters a go – as a pre-dinner snack or as a little meal on its own – I hope they will work the same magic for you, and on the one you love as well.

Makes 10

500g/1lb 2oz Désirée potatoes, peeled and coarsely grated

1 small onion (about 100g/3½oz), peeled and sliced very thinly

½ tsp salt

70g/2½oz/½ cup self-raising flour

100g/3½oz feta, diced in small cubes

1 tbsp picked thyme leaves

freshly ground black pepper, to taste

2 eggs

vegetable oil, for frying

thyme honey, to drizzle

1. Place the grated potatoes and onion slices in a sieve and sprinkle with the salt. Mix well and set aside for about 30 minutes to release some of the liquid. In a separate bowl mix the flour and feta cubes with the picked thyme and a good pinch of black pepper. In another bowl lightly whisk the eggs.

2. Squeeze out all the liquid from the potatoes and onions: the best way is either to pick up small handfuls and squeeze them in your hands over the sink or to place the whole amount in a clean tea towel or cheese cloth, twisting it into a firm ball so that the liquid is wrung out. Add the potatoes and onions to the eggs and mix well. (You can stop at this stage and place the potato mixture in the fridge for a few hours if you are making this ahead of time.)

3. When you are ready to fry the fritters, add the potato mixture to the flour bowl and combine. Heat about 3cm/1¼ inches of vegetable oil in a deep frying pan. Once hot (if you have a thermometer, you want it to reach 170°C /340°F), lower the heat to a steady medium. Scoop little piles (about a tablespoonful) of the potato mix into the hot oil. Fry for 2–3 minutes until dark golden, then flip and fry the other side too. Strain onto a bit of absorbent kitchen paper and then remove to a serving plate. Drizzle generously with the honey and serve hot.

Harira soup

Making a meal when there’s nothing in the house? That will probably be our next cookbook. Even though we spend our working days sourcing and cooking some of the best produce available, our kitchen at home is often understocked. Time and again at the end of an arduous day we find ourselves looking hopelessly into the cold depths of our empty fridge. We do, however, try to make sure that our freezer and dry store always have the makings of a few low-effort, high-comfort meals that have saved us more than once. If we have eggs in the house we’re lucky. Shakshuka (see here) is traditionally a breakfast dish, but we’re happy to have it anytime: cook some spices in oil, add tomatoes from a tin (or tomato purée thinned with water), pop some eggs in and bake. That with some toast to dip in it – perfect. Or we make an omelette with tinned crab and soba noodles – sounds weird but it’s a real treat. Dried pasta is always there for us and the variations are endless: peas from the freezer with butter and Parmesan is great; tuna, chilli, capers and olive oil is another combo we go back to a lot, and you’ve not lived until you tried linguini with Marmite and cheese (it’s a Nigella recipe and it’s delicious). We would be remiss not to mention the mighty fish finger sandwich. So much more than a sandwich, it is a balancing act of bread, fish, crumb and sauce, and when done right, it’s one of the most satisfying meals.

The recipe opposite has served us well on many cold, hungry nights. It is a bastardised version of harira, a Moroccan soup with such reviving qualities that it is usually eaten during Ramadan, to break the fast. This version retains the traditional seasoning and hearty spirit of the original soup, but takes some liberties with the ingredients: we sometimes use merguez sausage, but more often than not it’s some dried chorizo or a shrivelled salami that makes its way into the pot. When there aren’t any vegetables in the house, we make it without, and if there are some that need using up, in they go. Over the years we have made this soup with any and every type of bean that man has tinned. The result is so delicious that it’s worth making even when the fridge is fully stocked.

Serves 2 for dinner with some leftovers, or 4 as a starter

3 tbsp olive oil

2 carrots, peeled and finely diced

2 celery sticks, peeled and finely diced

1 onion, peeled and finely diced

1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed

2 tsp salt

80g/2¾oz chorizo, merguez or salami, diced in small cubes

1 cinnamon stick

1 tbsp ras el hanout or baharat spice mix (see here and 261)

½ tsp ground turmeric

1 tsp ground cumin

a pinch of chilli flakes (as large as you like)

1 tin chopped tomatoes (400g/14oz)

1 litre/1¾ pints/4⅓ cups water

1 tsp sugar

1 tin chickpeas (400g/14oz), drained and rinsed

1 tin red kidney beans (400g/14oz) or any other tinned beans you have in the cupboard, drained and rinsed

50g/1¾oz/¼–⅓ cup lentils (any type will do)

50g/1¾oz/½–⅔ cup pasta (any type will do, but best to use small shapes)

1. Put the oil, carrots, celery, onion, garlic and one teaspoon of the salt in a large saucepan and set on a medium-low heat. Sweat really slowly, stirring occasionally for about 10 minutes until the vegetables start to soften and stick to the bottom of the pan, then add the chorizo (or merguez or salami) and the cinnamon stick.

2. Mix well and cook for another 5 minutes, then add the rest of the spices and stir well again to toast them a little (about another minute). Now add the tinned tomatoes and the water. Bring to a boil, skim off any fat and then add the second teaspoon of salt and the sugar, followed by the chickpeas, beans and lentils. Bring back to a boil, reduce the heat to minimum and cook slowly for about 10 minutes.

3. Add the pasta and cook for a final 12 minutes. Taste for seasoning and serve. If you are cooking the soup in advance, and reheating later, stop cooking before adding the pasta and add it when you reheat the soup, as the pasta will continue to drink all the liquid and go mushy.

Green shakshuka

When I was growing up in Jerusalem you could see them in every neighbourhood – old ladies in traditional clothes from the villages nearby, sitting on the pavement with a rug underneath them, bunches of leaves splayed in front of them, selling the products of their gardens and field forages. Eggs of different colour and size. Bunches of parsley, dill and coriander, sandy and fragrant. Mint and other tea herbs: esoteric things with strange, wonderful flavours – white savory, lemon geranium, bitter leaves which were used to make a delicious infusion that was reported to make you sleepy (we called it sheba but it’s called absinthium or wormwood in English). Mustard greens, wild green chard, spinach, and other vegetal leaves so obscure we didn’t even know their names. We didn’t know then about organic or bio-dynamic vegetables, and foraging then was not the buzzword it is now, but everyone knew that the stuff these ladies were selling just tasted better.

We go to the farmers’ market on Sundays. Nothing fancy, just good wholesome meat, some cheese, eggs, bread (which always costs more than you’d expect), fruit, and vegetables as they should be: beets, carrots and radishes with dirt and leaves still on them, English spinach with big leaves and big flavour, leeks and bunches of chard. I always buy too much. By Thursday all the leaves in the fridge will have to be thrown away and the eggs will no longer be farm-fresh, so on Wednesday evening my thrifty wife charges through the fridge and picks them all out – the tops from carrots, beets and radishes, whatever is left of the chard and spinach, and all the herbs in the house – before they wilt. She gives them a good wash and a chop, and stews them all in olive oil. Once all the leaves are tender and their liquid has gone, the eggs go on top. Our Wednesday night dinner tastes different every time, but always makes me think of those women back in their villages, with whatever leaves and eggs they didn’t sell that day, having a similar meal, humble and delicious.

Serves 2 for breakfast, lunch or dinner

3 tbsp olive oil

1 small leek, sliced into rings and washed

100g/3½oz fresh spinach, washed (you can use any green leaf you have here: chard, kale, beets, radish tops, etc.)

1 small bunch of parsley, roughly chopped

1 small bunch of mint, leaves picked and roughly chopped

1 small bunch of dill, roughly chopped

1 garlic clove, peeled and crushed

4 eggs

a few dollops of yogurt (optional)

a sprinkling of sumac (optional)

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1. Heat the olive oil in a frying pan (I use a 22-cm/8¾-inch frying pan) on a medium-high heat. Add the leek and sauté to soften – it will take 3–4 minutes – then start adding the spinach, a large handful at a time. Stir between each addition to wilt it. It may seem as if it will never fit in the pan, but as it wilts there will be hardly any volume left. Finally add the chopped herbs and mix them in to wilt too. The whole process will take about 6–8 minutes, depending on the leaves you are using; just make sure they are soft by the end of it.

2. Remove the frying pan from the stove and season with the crushed garlic and some salt and pepper. You can set this aside until you are ready to eat and the table is set; it will also keep in the fridge until later. You only want to cook the eggs once everyone is at the table, as it is best to eat this while the yolks are still runny.

3. Heat the spinach mixture again and use a spoon to create four little wells in the cooked leaves, one in each quarter. Crack an egg into each well, season the eggs with a touch of salt and pepper and cover the pan. Cook on a low heat until the whites are set but the yolks are still runny – about 3–4 minutes. Serve straight away. You can drizzle with some yogurt and sumac or serve it as is. It’s delicious either way.

Saffron carrot soup with a little bit of rice

Serves 2 as a light dinner

25g/1oz butter

2 tbsp olive oil

2 onions (250g/9oz), peeled and finely chopped

3 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed

3 whole cloves

5 whole pimento/allspice berries

a pinch of saffron

2 bay leaves

6 carrots (500g/1lb 2oz), peeled and coarsely grated

2 tsp sea salt

3 tbsp rice (any kind would work here, but I usually use basmati)

¼ tsp freshly ground black pepper

1 litre/1¾ pints/4⅓ cups water

1. Heat the butter and oil in a saucepan on a medium-high heat, then add the onions, garlic, cloves, pimento, saffron and bay leaves and mix to coat well. Reduce the heat to medium-low and sweat the contents of the pan slowly until the onions start to soften and release some liquid (this will take about 5 minutes).

2. Add the grated carrot and one teaspoon of salt, keep the heat on medium and continue sweating the mixture for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the carrots change colour to an opaque yellow-orange and start to stick to the bottom of the pan. Scrape the base of the pan well and continue cooking for a further 5 minutes.

3. Add the second teaspoon of salt, along with the rice, black pepper and water. Mix well, increase the heat and bring to the boil, skimming any foam that forms on top, then reduce the heat to as low as you can. Simmer very slowly for 30 minutes with the lid semi-covering the pan.

4. Remove from the heat and fish out the whole cloves, pimento and bay leaves. Use a stick blender or transfer to a food processor to blitz to a smooth soup. Taste and adjust the seasoning if needed before serving.

Mushroom scrambled eggs

Serves 2 for a lovely indulgent breakfast or light dinner

25g/1oz butter

1 tbsp olive oil

1 large leek, halved, washed and thickly sliced

2 garlic cloves, peeled and thickly sliced

250g/9oz mixed mushrooms, cut into similar-sized thick slices

½ tsp salt

½ cinnamon stick

1 small bundle of thyme sprigs, tied together with some string

4 eggs

50g/1¾oz/⅔ cup grated Parmesan or pecorino

50ml/1¾fl oz/3½ tbsp milk or cream

freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1. Heat a large frying pan or wok over a medium heat, and melt the butter in the oil. Add the leek, garlic and mushrooms, increase the heat to high and mix well. Then add the salt, cinnamon stick and thyme bundle, and mix well again. Season with plenty of black pepper and stir occasionally for about 10