“We are not special,” Ibtisam, my mother-in-law says, and it is as if I am beside her, trembling, while she calmly pours the summakiya into the plates. The smell of it brings some comfort. It is the smell of home.
I remember my mother’s summakiya as if its smell and taste suffuse my kitchen now, although it, and she, are lost to me. I regret not writing her recipe before she died. It is 10 years since I left home in Gaza and settled in Perth, where I became a mother and learned to make all her dishes – but not her summakiya. The whole neighbourhood of Tuffah knew Huwayda’s summakiya was the best! She was invited to make the dish at every wedding. Despite being a refugee, her family displaced to Gaza in 1948, she perfected the Gazan traditional dish.
