Time flies. Seven years ago today, following the success of my first award-winning cookbook, The Jewelled Kitchen (2013, Watkins), my second book, The Jewelled Table, was published internationally with Hardie Grant. On paper, it had everything: a bigger publisher, creative agency, more original recipes, beautiful photography, a growing international fan base, and an established reputation.
By then, I had been ‘legitimised’ by Zionist media, who loved to trope me as “the female Ottolenghi,” and and even Ottolenghi himself ; branding me “The New Champion of Middle Eastern Food.” This, from a man who has built global recognition off our food and heritage, yet still cannot bring himself to call what his settler colony is doing: GENOCIDE…!
It’s also important to bear in mind that at the time, I was one of the few voices in what was still an unsaturated market. There were the so-called dinosaurs, for example the late Greg Malouf, Claudia Roden and Anissa Helou, few realise how much the work of early bloggers, authors, writers, and cooks did to democratise the space for today’s voices. Back then, earning respect and recognition was hard; we didn't have the power of social media to cut through the gatekeeping yet, though blogs paved the way.
Nevertheless, by doing the work, I became a good candidate for the kind of career publishers and media love to manufacture. In fact, I was already well-poised for that hyper-capitalist trajectory, with first-to-market plans on several book ideas, a nation-wide supermarket range, restaurant(s), and all the shiny trimmings.
But, The Jewelled Table, was never just about recipes, becoming the next “Ottolenghi” or fitting into the capitalist “Chefdom” wheel… at any cost at least. It was, and still is, a manifesto: challenging lazy tropes, rejecting erasure, debunking Western myths and bastardisation, resisting hyper-nationalistic food wars and reductionist histories born of our own internally colonised mindset, and insisting our stories belong on our own terms and in our voices.
Also, commercial publishing has its boxes, and there was only so much that could be pushed. For example, I was already bristling against labels like “Middle Eastern” that flatten WANA foodways and fall into detached colonial terminology. (Note: I was also pushing against “Levantine” and understood on the surface that it was a colonial misnomer, but I had still not fulfilled any in-depth research where I could vocalise it as I do here.) Still, I pushed.
The truth is, The Jewelled Table didn’t do as well as my first book, although it is the stronger and more aligned work: full of original and creative recipes, beautiful photography, and grounded research. And it was, I say this unabashedly and unequivocally, because I dared to speak out. I wrote what I wrote about the settler colony of Israel. Not because it was fashionable (it wasn’t then), but because it was truth. And today, that truth has only grown clearer. And standing in its face is more urgent than ever.
In doing so, I discovered who the camouflaged Zionists were. I ‘lost’ followers, industry supporters, media opportunities, (Zionist) fans, and “legitimacy” in the eyes of Western gatekeepers.
I’ll admit, I haven’t always capitalised on social media, and that plays into the bigger picture too. But I’m choosing to be kind to myself - the last five years have been difficult globally and personally, while I’ve been navigating a less commodified path rooted in research, context, and dismantling the system. That’s meant disruption and halted projects- some I’ve spoken of, others still under wraps - from TV to restaurants to supermarket shelves. Some never saw the light of day because they no longer aligned, others collapsed through narrative clashes, political instability (like Taste Lebanon/Taste WANA), or sheer logistics (DAYMA). And yes, some through my own misjudgements (DAYMA as a delivery concept being one). None of this is about excuses. Whether it’s missed visibility, speaking out against the settler colony, or projects that stalled, it’s simply the reality of doing this kind of independent “entrepreneurial” (a word I’ve grown to hate) work.
If I'm going to be vulnerably honest, for a while, I did believe I had failed and sabotaged my "career success." I had naively thought I could still play within the system, but I was early in my decolonisation journey. It didn't take long to understand a fundamental truth: if "career success" means a hyper-capitalist trajectory in service of Zionist powers, narratives, and platforms, and if our metric of success is Western approval, then we are building on quicksand. And I have walked away from pursuing that version of success.
Don’t get me wrong: I still believe in profits, and I charge a fair price for my work. Some may think it’s too much, and that is precisely the point. My prices reflect value, sustainability, and the refusal to undersell myself or my region’s heritage for the sake of appeasing a market that has long extracted from us without acknowledgment. That’s alignment.
I have learned and grown profoundly since 2018, and I have come to see clearly that I no longer wanted to partake in that framework. And while I have never fully confused market validation with substance, value and meaning, over the last seven years, I have come to understand the immense privilege and importance of alignment. It costs you, but the reward and growth are immeasurably worth it. And today, with everything going on in our world and region, more so.
I have never been one to give up and I have not been abandoning nor have I been failing; I have been aligning. And alignment takes time, patience, and a lot of sacrifice and perseverance. You really do have to absolutely love, adore, be obsessed and immersed in what you do to survive the lows. And I believe that shows dedication and commitment. The dignity and honesty of my work, the depth and truth it gives me and gives back to the world, is what inspires me to keep going.
My work continues to evolve as I educate myself, decolonise my thinking, and dismantle narratives at their root- reclaiming, debunking, and restoring. That means knowing our history well beyond what's on the plate. It's no longer just about food. It's about truth. Curiosity, context, and courage are my compass.
Our region, our food, and our stories deserve better than that. The future of our gastronomy and hospitality lies not in mimicry or tokenisation, but in intellectual rigour, cultural honesty, and the courage to resist senseless commodification.
The future of our gastronomy deserves courage, not compromise. If you feel aligned with that, reach out.
Ma’ esalama (with peace) مَع السَلامة ,
Bethanyx
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