INTRODUCTION

I AM SIX YEARS OLD, A BOUNCY TANNED KID WITH LONG BROWN HAIR AND lots of energy. On this sunny afternoon, I am completely and totally focused on the task at hand: picking na’na (fresh mint) from our garden. I carefully select the largest, greenest leaves, slowly running my fingers around their outer ridges. I am surrounded by the plant’s heady, refreshing scent, and I can’t wait to return to the kitchen and show the spoils to Mama, who is preparing one of my absolute favorite dishes—and one that accompanies most of our meals: taboulie.

When I enter the kitchen, Mama has an enormous wooden bowl in front of her—the biggest bowl I can imagine. I perch myself on a kitchen stool and watch carefully as she finely dices the vine-ripe tomatoes—also from our garden and hand-picked by yours truly—and meticulously chops up the fragrant parsley, always with a sharp knife so the leaves don’t bruise. She inspects the na’na with approval, and I’m on to my next task: lemons. My small hands grasp each lemon wedge, squeezing as hard as my little palms let me, and carefully picking out any pips that fall into the bowl. When my hands can squeeze no more, I pluck each mint leaf off the stem, so it, too, can be added to this enormous bowl of flavor. After a thorough chopping, in goes the mint, followed by the fine beige grains of soaked bulgur wheat, and then the rest of the diced vegetables and remaining herbs.

I watch closely as Mama’s hands slide up and down the side of the bowl, as she weaves her fingers in and out of the mixture, so that every bite contains a morsel of each ingredient. Now it’s time for the olive oil, and I hold the slippery bottle carefully, pouring a thin, steady stream into the bowl, before Mama instructs me to stop, and I add some of my hand-squeezed lemon juice. “A little more lemon juice, Joule” she tells me, and I pour it in, before grinding the pepper and salt into the mixture, because few dishes are complete without these two star ingredients. After a final mix comes my favorite part: taste testing. Mama’s hands are slick with oil as she reaches for a crisp romaine lettuce leaf, into which she scoops some of the fresh taboulie. I open my mouth as wide as possible, and take in the tastes and textures—the crunchy salad, firm beads of wheat, and an avalanche of refreshing flavors with a tang of lemon juice at the end. “How is that, habibi?” she asks me, and I nod vigorously, trying to smile with my mouth full, my eyes open wide with excitement. With my seal of approval, the taboulie joins the rest of Mama’s dishes on our table, each more delicious than the last.

I may no longer be six years old, but my love of preparing and eating taboulie—this essential Middle Eastern dish—has never waned, not even for a second. It’s no accident, then, that the grain salad has become an irreplaceable part of my identity. When I meet the wonderful fans of my TV show Cooking with Julie Taboulie, the first question I’m always asked is “Is Julie Taboulie your real name?” The answer is no, not legally, but it might as well be! Growing up in Utica, a small industrial town in upstate New York, I was constantly surrounded by the many members of my tight-knit family and the town’s large Lebanese community. When I was just six or seven years old, my uncles gave me the nickname “Julie Taboulie” after noticing my obsession with the dish, and food in general. Like hummus to pita, the name stuck and continues to stick—it’s even shaped my entire career!

But how did I turn a family nickname into a cooking show watched by audiences throughout North America? Well, like every good story, it’s a long one, so take a seat and a sticky square of baklawa and hear me out. In 2007, I was living in New York City hosting, writing, and producing television segments for Bloomberg’s NYCTV. I found that as fun as the red-carpet segments and charitable event coverage were, I was always especially drawn to the food-focused pieces. Not that I don’t love flowing gowns and fancy events, but food, now that, I could sink my teeth into. When I wasn’t on TV, I was watching TV—food TV. I soon noticed that there weren’t any Lebanese or Middle Eastern cooking shows and that whenever an American TV chef was creating Lebanese food I was yelling—yes, yelling—at the TV. “You’re not supposed to bake those” and “that’s not what that’s called!” I would scream at the television, knowing that none of their dishes and concoctions could compare with the magical tastes that I enjoyed in my Mama’s kitchen.

In the summer of 2007, a fantastic opportunity presented itself to me: a month-long trip back to the old country, Lebanon, a place which had deeply impacted my identity even though I’d never visited. Growing up I had heard so much about my Lebanese family, as my mother had come to the U.S. with only her brothers—leaving her four sisters and parents behind. On the rare occasions that my Sitto (maternal grandmother) visited us, I relished her stories and company, and wished I could return with her to experience the country of my parents’ youth. I had spent so long as a child wondering what Lebanon was like—how it looked and smelled, how it was different from our home in upstate New York, and, of course, how the food tasted compared with ours. Politically, Lebanon has often been a place of turmoil, but my family had always spoken of it with so much affection and nostalgia—I had to see for myself.

On August 1, 2007, after thirteen hours of travel and a distance of six thousand miles, I found myself on my Sitto’s doorstep, where a crowd of family members was waiting for me. I stepped out of my uncle’s car, and into my grandmother’s outstretched arms—arms I hadn’t encountered in more than ten years—bringing tears to both of our eyes. After the many hugs and kisses, we shared my “welcome” meal—which was fit for a queen. For the rest of the month, I explored my Lebanese roots with my eyes wide open, sleeping in the bed my mother had slept in during her childhood, and embracing my beloved culture. My Arabic flourished in Lebanon, as I improved my speaking and comprehension skills encouraged by my loving (and patient!) family. With each day, I saw more and more of myself in my relatives: my love of cooking and feeding people and my endless capacity for conversation and curiosity.

Since one of my cousins was getting married, the house was constantly filled with magnificent bouquets of flowers and stacked boxes of sweets. I noticed that all of the sweets were wrapped the same—and all of them seemed to come from one particular place: Abdul Rahman and Sons in Tripoli. Eager to examine the place where these heavenly sweet treats were prepared, I proposed a visit to Tripoli. The moment I walked in, I was entranced by a flurry of activity. The many-floored building featured ice cream makers, chocolatiers, savory chefs and, of course, the pastry bakers. After persuading my cousins (and one of the store’s employees) to take a tour, I luxuriated in the experience—a kid in a literal candy shop—snapping pictures (especially after my video camera was banned!). Finally, I had seen where these magical sweets were being made!

Although the food in Lebanon was mostly very similar to the dishes on my mother’s table, the varieties of produce, meat, and dairy (and the lack of preservatives) provided even more flavor. As I bonded with my cousins—all of whom are around my age—we went on more food adventures, including a visit to see where bizzar—the deliciously spicy nut mix on every Lebanese table—was roasted. I examined the many different kinds of roasted nuts, selecting my favorites to make a homemade mix—feeling very far away from the States, where the mixes are premade and packaged. As the days drew to a close, I dreaded leaving my family, with whom I had forged a very close bond. Lebanese hospitality was more than I ever could have imagined with every visit, even to a clothing store, involving a cup of strong Arabic coffee, sweets, and conversation. In my last few days, I held my family even closer, and took care to remember the little things: the friendly man shaving shawarma near our house, and the way my grandmother looked at me, as I so closely resembled my mother at a young age. I left with a full, heavy heart, knowing that this experience would change me for a lifetime.

Returning to New York was bittersweet, as I had experienced such a feeling of belonging and fulfillment in Lebanon. I continued watching my food TV shows, and thinking more and more of my connection with the cuisine of my childhood and heritage. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but I had soon written down—scribbled into my trusty notebook—the words “Julie Taboulie, Lebanese Cuisine.” It dawned on me that what I most wanted was to popularize Lebanese cuisine and culture and continue my family’s culinary legacy.

From Julie Taboulie, young impressionable kid, to Lebanese cooking authority! I returned to my family again, but this time in the Finger Lakes region of New York State. Invigorated by my experience in Lebanon, I immersed myself in the cooking of my heritage, logging countless hours in my Mama’s kitchen and trying to soak up all her culinary skills. I watched her rolling out ajeen (a traditional non-yeasted bread), pickling vegetables for a medley called kabees, and blending chickpeas for hummus. I was immediately transported back to my childhood, where the scents of rose water and orange blossom signaled the arrival of the holidays, and Sundays brought with them the smell of Mama baking bread.

After lots of culinary practice, I launched my brand, “Julie Taboulie, Lebanese Cuisine” and created a month-long introductory Lebanese cooking course at a local library. My first course sold out very quickly, and I soon became a sought-after instructor in the area, teaching my hands-on classes at institutions like the Syracuse Test Kitchen, Wegmans School of Culinary Arts, and the New York Wine and Culinary Center. I was right—people did want to learn about the delicious foods of the old country, and how to cook them! I received calls from various organizations in the area, and returned to TV—this time with my own weekly Lebanese cooking segment “Cooking with Julie Taboulie”—written, produced, and created by Ms. Taboulie, herself! I was on the local ABC and PBS networks, and soon started my own cooking show, which aired on PBS in March 2012. Soon, the show was picked up by the regional district programmers, and within a year, Cooking with Julie Taboulie was distributed nationally.

The stunning Finger Lakes region of upstate New York serves as the backdrop and setting for my show—a one-of-a-kind experience for my viewers featuring local farms, markets, wineries, and, of course, lots of time with my Mama in her gorgeous vegetable garden. My goal is to introduce the viewers to the food of my culture, and show that they, too, can prepare all of these fabulous delicacies with ease, finesse, and fresh, easy-to-find ingredients. Using my experience and cultural heritage, I craft authentic Lebanese recipes passed down through the generations, teaching viewers my own tips, tricks, and shortcuts along the way. In February 2013, I received an Emmy nomination for best informational/instructional program. In addition to numerous television and radio appearances, I am a media spokesperson for two wonderful food companies: Sabra dip company and Toufayan Pita bakery. I am a frequent presence at local and nationwide Lebanese and Middle Eastern culinary events where I get to meet (and feed!) many of my lovely, devoted fans.

My passion for Lebanon and its cuisine and culture has led me to a career in educating and enlightening a whole new group of Middle Eastern food enthusiasts! With its emphasis on fresh, seasonal ingredients, whole grains and simple, healthy cooking techniques, Lebanese cuisine could not be a better complement to the wellness and health-conscious approach to life today, and I thank my lucky Lebanese stars every day that this is the food of my family and heritage. Lebanese food is generally served all at once—not coursed out like many other cuisines. This ensures that everyone is together at the table throughout the meal—leaving more time for conversation and shared eating—just another thing I love about my food heritage! Much awaited by viewers of my show and my cooking students and fans, this cookbook will use the same easy techniques and effervescent enthusiasm I display on my TV show to illuminate Lebanese cuisine for the masses.

Each Julie-tested, Mama-approved recipe will provide readers with hands-on instructions, tips, and tricks—as if I was cooking beside them! I want Lebanese food to become second nature to my readers and fans—something you can whip up time and time again and even pass on to the next generation! I use heaps of fresh, seasonal ingredients in my recipes and my motto is: “fresh is best.” The recipes range from classics such as falafel, shawarma, and (of course) taboulie, to warming bazilla—a stew of tomato, green peas, and lamb—and rose water–infused sweet treats. In these 125 recipes, you’ll learn how easy it is to make fresh labneh (strained yogurt), and how simply you can put together your own delicious, multipurpose spice mixes. In addition to our flavorful meat and chicken dishes, Lebanese cuisine offers a wide variety of vegetarian, pescatarian, vegan, and gluten-free dishes—usually with no substitutions whatsoever! Every chapter here includes a multitude of main dishes for eaters of all kinds and preferences, from meat lovers to veggie heads and everything in between! Welcome, Ahla Wou Sahla, !