The Arabesque Table

A Cookbook That Celebrates Ingredients, Story, and the Living Tradition of Arab Cuisine

After a brief pause, our cookbook recommendations return—this time with a selection that arrives at exactly the right moment for spring kitchens. As herb gardens begin to rebound and markets fill with fresh produce, editor Briana Olson turns her attention to Reem Kassis’s second cookbook, The Arabesque Table: Contemporary Recipes from the Arab World.

The book proves to be a timely discovery. Within its pages, Olson finds a dependable flatbread recipe she expects to revisit often, a fresh perspective on what many refer to as the “Middle East,” and a compelling case for organizing recipes by ingredient rather than by traditional meal categories. While the cookbook is not political in tone, it is deeply human—honoring the people, histories, and everyday stories that shape Arab cooking.

By the Book

Words and photos by Briana Olson

The Arabesque Table: Contemporary Recipes from the Arab World by Reem Kassis

Modern cookbooks rarely organize their recipes by ingredient, and it is difficult to say why. At first glance, the approach may seem impractical—especially for cooks accustomed to the Western structure of appetizers, mains, and desserts, or those who instinctively build meals around a central dish. But when cooking from what happens to be in the refrigerator or what looks best at the market, the key ingredient is often the most natural place to begin.

That practicality is part of the appeal. Yet the deeper charm lies in the way ingredient-based organization reshapes the rhythm of meal planning. It removes the expectation that every meal must revolve around a single centerpiece and instead opens the door to a table composed of many equally vibrant elements.

In The Arabesque Table, Reem Kassis uses this structure as a way to weave storytelling directly into the recipes. Through individual ingredients, she explores the foundations of Levantine cooking while tracing the journeys of foods that were not originally native to the region but have since become essential to its cuisine.

Eggplant is one such example. Alongside its recipes, Kassis recounts the paths ingredients have traveled across continents and centuries. She writes about the history of pomegranates and sesame seeds, describes the bustling spice markets of Jerusalem, and recalls the determination of a Palestinian woman who crossed barricades to sell foraged greens in the Old City.

Kassis herself was raised in Jerusalem and now lives in Philadelphia, having spent years moving between cities around the world. Her first cookbook, The Palestinian Table, celebrated the traditional recipes of her family. For her second book, she set out to capture the evolving character of Arab cooking in the twenty-first century.

The result is a collection of recipes that balance heritage with creativity. Some dishes are thoughtful adaptations, such as a version of basbousa inspired by a rosemary-lemon polenta cake the author fell in love with during her years living in London.

Despite touches like a za’atar schnitzel, the book resists the label of “fusion.” Rather than dramatic mash-ups of unrelated cuisines, the recipes reflect subtle evolution—updates inspired by childhood snacks, busy mornings packing lunches, or ingredients more easily found in international kitchens.

A falafel recipe, for example, swaps difficult-to-find split fava beans for a mixture of garbanzos and split peas. Another dish substitutes chard for wild mallow in khubeizeh. These adaptations mirror the quiet blending of food cultures that has taken place throughout history as people have migrated and shared their kitchens.

Even the book’s most unexpected combinations draw from real culinary traditions. A mutabel enriched with peanut butter, for instance, references a classic Sudanese preparation. Such influences explain Kassis’s choice of the word arabesque for her title—a term that reflects the broad cultural connections that shape the Arab world.

Although the cookbook includes many meat-based dishes, vegetarian and vegan recipes appear throughout its chapters. Nuts and seeds—what Kassis describes as “the real markers of our cuisine”—receive special attention, as do grains, pulses, fruits, floral waters, and the essential trio of coriander, cumin, and cardamom.

One dish that captures this philosophy is a carrot salad featured in the “Roots + Shoots + Leaves” chapter. It also highlights an important lesson about cooking with spices: freshness matters. Just as a frozen chicken that has lingered in the freezer for years would never produce a satisfying roast, the dusty container of cumin forgotten in the back of the pantry will not do justice to a fragrant, spice-driven dish.

Among the book’s most intriguing sections is an entire chapter devoted to tahini. For many cooks, tahini is a familiar flavor but an ingredient rarely used beyond a few traditional dishes. Olson admits that discovering this chapter reshaped how she approaches it.

Her renewed enthusiasm began with an unexpected inspiration: a dark chocolate tahini confection from Chokolá in Taos that reminded her of a tahini-infused Kit Kat. Since then, tahini has found its way onto squares of dark chocolate and into numerous dessert experiments.

Kassis’s recipes encourage that kind of exploration. Some of her tahini dishes are sweet—including a tahini truffle—while others lean savory, such as a spread made from tahini, walnuts, and Aleppo pepper that Olson now favors on breakfast toast or layered into fresh vegetable sandwiches.

In many ways, The Arabesque Table manages to be both ambitious and refreshingly simple. The recipes extend far beyond familiar desserts like baklava, revealing how foundational ingredients—nuts, seeds, grains, spices—shape the everyday cooking of an enormous region.

The book’s bibliography reflects this breadth as well, drawing from sources across the Arab world. A mushroom shawarma recipe traces its lineage to Turkey, while a one-pot chicken dish originated with a Jordanian emigré living in the United States during the 1960s.

Kassis acknowledges the challenge of capturing so much culinary history in a single volume. As she writes in the acknowledgments, “I felt like I was trying to combine centuries’ worth of some of the world’s richest history into a 250-page book. It was no easy feat.”

Yet the result is remarkably accessible. Though grounded in careful research, the historical context never overwhelms the cooking itself. In the end, the book remains exactly what it promises to be: a cookbook. It may not set out to make a political statement, but it ultimately delivers something more lasting—a portrait of the people and traditions that give Arab cuisine its life.

Who’s Your Source?

When it comes to pine nuts, sourcing matters. Kassis favors those harvested from the Mediterranean stone pine, but in New Mexico, the local equivalent is piñon. Depending on the season, piñon can be found at markets such as Fruit Basket in Albuquerque, at farms like Mago’s Farm, along roadside stands, through the New Mexico Piñon Nut Company, or even from independent sellers online.

Many staples of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cooking—tahini, olive oil, lentils—are now widely available in well-stocked grocery stores. For more specialized ingredients, however, a dedicated market is often the best option.

Casa Blanca Market in Albuquerque is a reliable destination for many of the ingredients featured in The Arabesque Table, including walnuts, shelled pistachios, halloumi, orange blossom water, and nigella seeds. The market is also known for its impressive selection of dried fruits, with bulk options for dates and date paste—particularly useful for anyone planning to prepare a large batch of traditional ma’amoul cookies.

Casa Blanca carries meat as well, with an emphasis on lamb, along with a smaller assortment of fresh herbs such as mint.

For whole or ground spices, Casa Blanca is a dependable choice, as are specialty shops like Bombay Spice in Albuquerque or Savory Spice Shop in Santa Fe. For cooks who prefer to order spices online, reputable vendors known for sustainable sourcing include Diaspora, Burlap & Barrel, and La Boîte—one of the few places known to offer pure za’atar leaves.