Eucalyptus

The Jerusalem Post

Friday, march 10,2000

Our man cooks slowly

If local chef Moshe Basson can
beat Morocco in a
couscous competition
while under time constraints,
he can win the Slow Food
Award with his eyes closed

By Phyllis Glazer

Moshe Basson may be cooking slowly , but he certainly is getting places fast.
The Jerusalem chef's nomination for the Slow Food Award in Bologna in October came as a surprise.
"it's very exciting," he admits, "because I'm not embarrassed to say I enjoy compliments, and this is a wonderful compliment. It means that what you're doing not only tastes good, but also succeeds in preserving 'historical food'." The award will be presented to five people who have distinguished themselves as "guardians and leaders of taste and promulgators of slow food values." For the uninitiated, Slow Food is an international movement founded in 1986 in Turin, Italy, as a response to the effect fast food was having on our society and life, eroding our culinary heritage in the guise of efficiency . Today Slow Food is more active than ever, with 60,000 members in 35 countries and worldwide respect for its values and initiatives. Basson entrance into the Slow Food competition was made possible by Al HaShulhan, an impressively designed Hebrew food magazine published and edited by Jana Gur, who is also a member of the 600-member jury. Other candidates include men and women who breed livestock, work in kitchens, invent something new, are active in environmental and conservation project concerning food, and are guardians of food heritage. These are the "unsung heroes" who believe in saving what society ignores or believe to be lost. To get a sneak preview of our candidate was no simple task. Basson, chef and the proprietor of Eucalyptus restaurant, is not easy to find. It isn't necessarily that he's cooking (since he has a battery of cooks , primarily women, with ethnic backgrounds who range from Syrian, Kurdish and Sabra to Polish). He's also not necessarily in the dining room, greeting guests and putting the final touches on a makluba (upside-down rice casserole of the Persian persuasion) that he prepare right before your eyes. If you're lucky, you might catch Basson by cellular phone, since he's more likely to be somewhere in the hills of Jerusalem, combing the fields, clipper in hand, looking for wild plants and herbs that will - just hours later- make their way into your soup, stuffed vegetables, or stew. Iraqi-born Basson remembers being in love with food from his earliest childhood. "My parents owned a bakery in the Arab village of Beit Safafa," he says, "where we used to produce Iraqi pita, halla, and other breads. Our oven used to serve the Arab women who would come in and drive me crazy with scents of dishes my father would never let me taste because we kept kosher." And then there was dessert. "on Arab holidays, they would come to the bakery to bake their incredibly rich sweets," he fondly remembers, "and on Jewish holidays, we would make our own, like halva and zangulla (snake-coiled rounds of dough), and my uncle would deep-fry them in the hot oil and let me dip each one in the syrup". These same women were the first to teach him about the wild edible plants grew around the village, while his father taught him how to recognize and use the herbs and vegetable he grew in the yard around their home in Talpiot. It was in this yard that Basson planted his first Eucalyptus tree on one Tu Bishvat when he was a child, and it was there that the first Eucalyptus restaurant was built. His family life also gave him a religious background, which led him to search for food references in the Torah, Mishna, and even the Koran. It's no wonder then that when he grew up, Basson chose food as a profession, but instead of staying in the kitchen, he prefers the field. Hankering to produce wild herbs commercially, Basson soon surrounded himself with sheep, goats and quails, wild herbs, unusual lettuces, asparagus, and even the first butternut squash ("dalurit") grown in Israel. His knowledge of food and his ingenuity even led to the development of the first Yarden (oyster) mushroom in the country. The year was 1988 when his brother Ya'acov opened a workers restaurant in Talpiot, built around the Eucalyptus tree, and asked Moshe for culinary advice. Under Basson's guidance the food began to take on a new perspective and edible plants were incorporated into the menu. The clientele grew word of mouth. "some people call me a food archeologist ,"he says, "because I 'unearthed' old recipes that were dying out with the increasing reliance on fast food." And like a true food historian, he has great respect for the indigenous populations that inhabited the country over the course of time. He understand that the cuisine of any country originated from those civilizations. He deeply believes that eating those foods in their natural season is the healthiest way to eat, since this is when foods are at their optimum and retain their true nutritional value. "Although I respect my colleagues in the professional food world, I take my hat off to the women throughout the centuries who were the real designers of native cuisines in whatever country they lived, "he says. "It was the women who learned to turn seasonal foods into traditional dishes to feed their families. When I want to learn about Ethiopian, Arab, or Persian food, for example. I go to learn from the old women." Today, when he wants to try out new recipes, he often asks his guests for their opinion. "It's worth a lot more than a discount," he explains, "because to serve a free cup of soup costs virtually nothing, but it tells them that I value their opinion. And I do." When Basson was informed that the location of Eucalyptus was to be turned into a shopping center (he's still waiting to see it), he decided to close the restaurant and take six months off, traveling and tasting throughout Thailand, Africa, Turkey, and Cyprus. "I always let my nose be my guide," he admits with a laugh. "I remember one time in Thailand my friends refused to go into some hole-in-the-wall restaurant because they were afraid of getting dysentery. But my nose told me that the food was safe and delicious. They ended up going to a fancy restaurant and getting dysentery - and I was just fine!" When he returned, Basson reopened his restaurant on Rehov Horkanus and remained there for four years before moving to his present location at Kikar Safra. In the meantime, his special view of food caught on - he has had customers from around the world and articles about his food have appeared in newspapers and magazines like The Washington post; Travel and leisure; and Conde Nast. Basson has also cooked abroad. For Israel's 50th Independence Day, he was invited to the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. to give a demonstration class and make dinner for guests. "I decided to use mallow ('hubeza' in Hebrew/Arabic) for one of the dishes,: he recalls, " and I naively thought I'd be able to go into the fields around Washington and find it, but I didn't. I must have mallow, I told them, and no one knew what I was talking about, but finally a grower was located in California, and I was presented with kilos of beautiful fresh mallow flown in especially for the dinner." Another high point in Basson's career occurred last September, when the Israeli cultural attache in Italy invited him to participate in an International Couscous championship in Sicily. He was intimidated, and suggested that he invite a hotel or restaurant chef with Moroccan or North African roots who specialized in couscous, but the attache refused. "I know you make unusual food," he insisted, "and I want you to do it." Not that couscous was foreign to Basson. "I used to serve it in Eucalyptus," he told me, "until the retaurant moved to its second location which was right down the street from Darna, the Moroccan restaurant. Then I said to myself, let Darna specialize in couscous. I'm taking it off the menu." It's no wonder Basson was intimidated. Other contestants at the championship included chefs from Algeria, Tunis, Morocco, and Sicily. Libya cancelled when they heard that an Israeli was participating, and the Egyptians just didn't show up. It wasn't until he got there that Basson and his assistant Sarit were informed that Moshe had to cook couscous for 200 people the day before the championship, as well as design a couscous made with a fish he had never seen for the competition. The first problem would be solved with the help of students from a cooking school in Palermo, who were particularly useful as the 200 turned out to be 1,700 people. But what would he do about the second problem? In a stroke of brilliance, Basson decided to present his couscous as "Manna from the sky"; he dedicated it to Sicily by using purple and violt eggplant along with a native Sicilian fish. He removed the inner flesh from the eggplant, cut it into cubes and deep fried the shells till they turned a blueish sea-like color, filling them with chickpeas, garlic, basil, and pepper. Next, he added cardamom to the fried cubes and served them on the side, and stuffed the fish with lemon verbena brought from his garden. All this was served with a sauce that included fresh fava beans with basil, cherry tomatoes and a garnish of nigella and pomegranate seeds - and couscous. In a competition where the rest of the candidates merely made traditional couscous, this "nouvelle couscous" was simply out of this world. It's no wonder then that our man in Sicily won prize.