Flavours of disenfranchisement: How dill & chillies became the mainstay of Palestinian kitchens in Gaza
Hyacinthus is one example, but there is also Cyparissus (cypress), Adonis (anemones), Mecon (poppy)and Crocus (saffron). The most obscure is Anethus, whose story isn’t even known, except that he became dill. Its scientific name is Anethum, from the myth.
There is something dark about dill.
The fresh herb tastes grassy and the seeds are sweet, but strong medicinal flavours soon emerge. “Dill is complex, demanding and opinionated,” writes Niki Segnit in 'The Flavour Thesaurus', which might explain why people hesitate to use it directly. Yet it is more familiar than we realise.
Against its associations with death, dill seed flavours the soothing gripe water given to babies. And herby-sour dill pickle flavouring is used in the sauce for hamburgers eaten around the world.
Dill and death are more grimly linked now. In Laila El -Haddad and Maggie Schmitt’s 'The Gaza Kitchen', dill and chilis are described as the key flavourings in the tiny enclave now caught in the Israel-Hamas conflict.
The book explains how Palestine had a rich history of food, from its location between the food landscape of the Mediterranean (olives, fish, herbs), Arabian deserts (dates, coffee, spices from trade with Asia) and the Nile delta (rice, dairy).
Decades of conflict have disrupted this, pushing refugees from across Palestine into Gaza and the West Bank, and further diasporas. Now they live, as all refugees do, trying to keep food memories alive with the meagre resources at their disposal.
Intensely-crowded Gaza had it worst, with little land to grow food and often embargoed by Israel.
Gaza recipes show the painful adaptations — raising pigeons and rabbits on terraces, substituting fresh milk with powder from aid shipments and using dill and
