What’s Lebanese for ‘There is a god’?
I thought I’d died and gone to Lebanon Heaven when me and Fiona were lunching at Sohaila. Sahil opened the door and gave us the choice of tables; Alexandros kept us informed and educated about every dish and every drink while the plates and glasses kept coming and coming and coming, writes Michael Holland.
Two types of water were laid before us. Already we were spoilt for choice. Mixed olives landed. Alex handed us menus full of words we had never heard: Muhammara, Mutabal, Tabbouleh, Labneh, Dukkah… He explained in words that we could understand. I told him I could eat anything and was willing to let him choose my lunch for me. Fiona has a thing about spiced food and then proceeded to steam into every dish with gusto after Alex said her plates would be fine-tuned to her tastes.
A mezze of starters with warm bread and chickpea crackers set the tone for our lunch – A carnival of colour and flavours. I was surprised with a sparkling wine from Italy, which was sublime. Fiona, a non-drinker, was still raving about her fig leaf and soda concoction hours later.
Nathalie Moukarzel, one of the co-owners, says in the book they are bringing out next week: “I need you to understand that it is not a meal. It is an event with no clear end point and no exit. Saying you’re not hungry in a Lebanese household is treated as a medical emergency. Likewise, if you say you are. Plates will appear, not in courses, because courses are an invention from another part of the world designed to slow people down, but all at once, edge to edge, until the table stops being a table and becomes a surface with no visible wood. You eat. You say you’re full. The host will look at you with the specific pity reserved for people who are lying. More food arrives. At some point, you stop resisting and something in you goes quiet, and that quiet is the whole point.”
We had the ‘look of pity’ after we went quiet after the four starters, which was when Sahil squeezed three more plates onto our bulging table: Fried courgettes, with whipped feta and harissa honey. (Unbelievable). Grilled halloumi, sour cherries and pistachios. (A mix of magic). Roasted beets, tahini and chard (Superb simplicity). Alex went through the ingredients, speaking with passion about food he knows and loves.
Fiona, who has an allotment, was already planning to recreate some of these dishes, and I know that she will have a good go at it.
But it’s the oils, the pomegranate seeds scattered around to glitter like rubies, the sprinkles of this and the dashes of that, which create texture and taste, and lift these recipes up and above all else. Plus the love and the history behind these plates of food, whose recipes will be in the book, along with the stories that came with them.
The history comes from Nathalie’s grandmother (Sohaila), whose cooking inspired much of the menu, and from past chefs who moved on but left their secrets behind, and from Nathalia meeting Meg Doherty, the founder of Fat Macy’s, the social enterprise that supports homeless Londoners. Sohaila provides a dedicated trainee programme, that includes time spent working in the kitchen or front of house in the restaurant. Sohaila is driven by a mission to help the homeless community back on their feet, into work, and into permanent accommodation. These are the people preparing, cooking and serving this Feast of the Gods.
While we swooned over the dishes in front of us, the grilled octopus and pork belly, with date and walnut sauce, came along with a full-bodied red wine from a farming community in Greece. These dishes were not for Fiona. I was getting no help with these.
The pork fell away at the touch of a fork, while the octopus was a bit more robust. I could not pick a favourite. Both were delicious.
Over time, we had spread out over two tables and tried our best to eat as much as we could until it was time for dessert. Three to choose from, and they all sounded wonderful. Our choice, the summer stone fruits with pistachio halwa and mint, was a Paradise of peach, cherry, and a fudge-like pistachio number that absolutely nailed this dish. It was the perfect finish to the ideal meal.
Sahil brought me a delicious dessert wine from Greece and told the story of how it is aged in the barrel for five years before bottling. Then Alexandros came over to add to the tale of this fantastic wine. It brought the sweet dish to life, enhanced my enjoyment even more, and put a spring in my step as we made our way through the streets of Shoreditch.
As I’m writing this now, one day later, I can still taste those wines and salads and… Of course, we couldn’t eat it all yesterday, so I‘ve got tabbouleh, hummus, octopus, and pork belly for my lunch.
What’s Lebanese for ‘There is a god’?
Visit Sohaila, buy the book, and know that the royalties will go towards helping others.
Book: https://www.waterstones.com/book/sohaila/nathalie-moukarzel/meg-doherty/9781610369503
Sohaila, 232 Shoreditch High Street, London, E1 6PJ
Full details and menus: https://sohailarestaurant.com/
