I have roots in Beirut and time spent in kitchens from Marrakech to Tehran. On a winter evening years ago an aunt of mine set a clay tagine of chicken and preserved lemon on the table and told me to listen first. The dish was still sighing under its conical lid, a small patient breath of saffron and onion and time. That is what I cook.

Here I teach Moroccan tagine, Lebanese mezze, Persian rice, Turkish kebab, Egyptian koshari, Greek bistro food: each in its own grammar, never flattened into one "Mediterranean" blur. Slow, layered, generous on the table.