From musakhan to mansaf, why Palestinian dishes hold the power to defy colonialism and protect identity

In Palestine, food is more than just sustenance; it is about memory, with each dish rooted in deep history and unwavering defiance.

Amid Israeli military occupation, forced displacement and limitations on movement, Palestinians have continued to uphold their identity through traditions, culture and of course, food, which has become a symbol of resistance in the face of erasure.

Take musakhan, which is often considered the national dish of Palestine. It’s made using chicken, caramelised onions, pine nuts and sumac on top of flatbread. This isn’t just dinner for Palestinians, but rather a meal made from a centuries-old recipe, crafted with family spice blends, all from a land where its people refuse to be erased. 

Or take the watermelon; when Israel banned the Palestinian flag in the 1960s, the watermelon became the symbol of Palestinian resistance, as it contains all four colours of the flag — red, green, black, and white.

And this is the same story for every plate of food. In every lovingly made dish, Palestinians are not just feeding their communities, they are reclaiming their narrative, preserving their lineage and asserting their right to exist.  

Gastronomical roots amidst occupation

To understand Palestinian cuisine better, one must understand its regional ingredients, including olives, za’atar, sumac, and freekeh. These are all quintessential to Palestinian cooking and are tied to the land, creating the nation’s signature dishes, such as musakhan, maqluba, mujaddara, and kunafa.

But for a land that is shaped by occupation and agricultural restrictions, Palestinian farmers face constant limitations from the state, its army and settlers, who are all well-documented in uprooting olive trees, burning them down, and even cutting off water supplies to whole Palestinian villages.

These indigenous communities have lived off the land and passed down recipes through generations, making olives and olive oil central to Palestinian cooking and identity. Many dishes feature the ingredient, and its motif has been adopted when depicting Palestinian culture.

So every time a farmer’s livestock is taken, his olive trees destroyed, and his home occupied, another thread is pulled from the fabric that ties him to his land. And yet, to continue cooking the dishes of his ancestors is an act of quiet defiance — a way to resist the occupation, to honour his heritage and to ensure that his story, as well as the taste of his homeland, will never be forgotten.

“If the Olive Trees knew the hands that planted them, their oil would become tears”– Mahmoud Darwish 

Resisting culinary theft and erasure

With that comes historical erasure and culinary appropriation. Traditional dishes that have a historical connection to Palestinians, Levantine Arabs and North Africans, such as hummus and falafel, have been subject to Israeli appropriation.

From opening falafel stands in the occupied Palestinian territories to TikTok content creators naming their dishes “Israeli shakshuka,” when there is no acknowledgement of where the dish originated, it often presents as capitalising on colonialism and culinary appropriation, rather than respecting heritage and origins.

After all, it is not that recipes shouldn’t be passed on, celebrated and enjoyed by everyone. Still, when its people are oppressed and their oppressors profit both financially and culturally from this appropriation, it leaves little room for celebration.

The politicisation of naming and origins of food is not unique to Palestine and Israel; it is something that is seen throughout the world due to colonialism.

Colonial powers have long taken indigenous dishes, food and ingredients, and renamed them to suit European languages and palates.

Where Israel differs is its desire to present as indigenous, and this starts with taking Palestinian farmers’ land, using their resources, such as za’atar and medjool dates, and eventually repackaging them, using Arabic-sounding brand names. This also benefits Israeli corporations when avoiding global calls for a boycott.

Chefs as defenders 

It is also due to global solidarity with the Palestinian cause that has elevated Palestinian cuisine, keeping the community in the diaspora, as well as those fighting for them, connected. Food so often does that, right?

Restaurants, supper clubs, chefs and personalities have kept Palestinian food and its origins alive worldwide as a political expression.

Breaking bread and sharing stories has long united human beings, and when a taste of home presents itself in the form of a supper club, it’s like being reunited with an old loved one for one night only – you go, you enjoy, and you rejoice in the motherland.

Additionally, cookbooks and food media have played a significant role in global advocacy for Palestine, with chefs and content creators sharing recipes with their audiences to educate them on Levantine cuisine.

Palestinian chefs such as Sami Tamimi and Fadi Kattan are at the centre of the London food scene, and it is no surprise that their cookbooks, pop-ups and restaurants have received worldwide recognition.

Dancing between super-traditional recipes for purists, as seen in Sami’s Falastin cookbook, and modernising dishes with playful twists, as Fadi illustrates through his West London restaurant Akub, the two chefs uphold their homeland’s flavours with pride.

As Fadi himself states, there can often be “sympathy capital” in bringing Palestinian cooking to London. "But I don't want people to come and eat at Akub because they're pro-Palestinian," he says. "I want them to come and enjoy a meal."

This role does not come without its difficulties, however. Since fighting intensified in Gaza, the Israeli government has enforced a blockade on the Strip, limiting aid, water and food entering, which has led to Gaza’s entire population at risk of starvation.

This has had an effect on the Palestinian chefs, Sami shares: “As a Palestinian chef and author, to write about our food is to say: we exist.”

He continues, “We have names, flavours, grandmothers, olive trees, spices, rituals. We have joy, depth, and memory. And that doesn’t disappear, no matter how much Israel tries to make it so. So yes, it feels strange.

"But we have to keep talking about it, about Palestine, about our culture, our people, our grief, and our love, especially in times like these. We carry it forward in every story, every plate, every page.”

You can book a table at Akub here

Order Sami Tamimi’s new Boustany cookbook here

And donate to Thamra, which provides food to Gaza, here

Suzie Bakos is an Iraqi-born, London-raised writer, presenter, and supper club host. She contributes to The New Arab, covering topics related to Middle Eastern cuisine, highlighting up-and-coming regional chefs, and sharing the best places to enjoy Middle Eastern food in London

Follow her on Instagram: @suzie_bakos