Falastin is the Arabic word for Palestine, and is also the title of the cookbook by Sami Tamimi and Tara Wigley wherein comes this recipe for M’tabbal Qarae; a clay-coloured dip of roughly-mashed, roasted vegetables.

With eggplant for smokiness and buttery richness, and a fluttery, caramelised sweetness from the kūmara (which I used) or butternut (as the recipe specifies), and that familiar throat-filling stony earthiness of tahini, this dip is as much about texture as it is flavour. An entire garlic bulb’s worth of roasted cloves are burst into the mix, and lemon juice and mint provide a lofty swoosh of lightness.

This recipe makes the most of the oven’s heat — simply roast your three main ingredients for about 40 minutes then press and mash them all with the back of a fork with very little exertion required, though you could blend them for a truly smooth puree. I was first introduced to this recipe conceptually via the Moutabal in Nigella Lawson’s Forever Summer cookbook, which is appropriate since — despite the midwinter starchiness of the kūmara — this feels immensely sunny and heralding of warmer months. But then the scent of fresh mint always evokes summer to me: draped wetly over new potatoes, perched amongst strawberries, chopped into salads, drifting amongst ice cubes in homemade lemonade. Here, the double-mint effect offers an icy-cool breeze that lifts the dip’s almost-heavy richness, and is best in both forms — but if you can only get fresh mint don’t let that hold you back.

This is the third recipe I’ve shared recently to acknowledge and honour Palestine’s nationhood, culture and food: first the Avocado, Labaneh and Preserved Lemon Spread, then the Msabaha, all three recipes would be excellent together on a groaning table of mezze. Falastin is a beautiful book that I highly recommend, its recipes interwoven with stories of Palestinian people, their lives and their food. The story of the man who daily guarded a 4000-year-old olive tree every day despite threats of theft, intentional fire and destruction, lingered with me, I can’t even begin to wonder if the tree or the man are still there today.

M’tabbal Qarae (Kūmara or Butternut M’tabbal)

A richly textured yet fragrantly light dip of roasted eggplant and butternut or kūmara — I’ve downsized and adapted this a little from Falastin by Sami Tamimi and Tara Wrigley, but I’ve retained the entire bulb of garlic and I think that was the correct choice. I’m too scared of setting off the smoke alarm for my whole building to truly char the eggplant; hence I’ve taken the safer route of roasting it at a high heat. If you’ve got a gas stovetop and/or are not in an apartment building, definitely feel free to apply more heat to it.

• 1 large, firm eggplant
• 1 large (about 400g) orange kūmara or 1/2 a butternut squash
• 1 garlic bulb
• 3 tablespoons olive oil, plus extra for drizzling
• 2 tablespoons tahini
• 2 tablespoons lemon juice
• 1/2 teaspoon chilli flakes, or to taste
• 1/4 teaspoon dried mint
• salt, to taste
• 3 tablespoons fresh mint leaves

1: Set your oven to 220C/440F. Stab the eggplant several times with the tip of a sharp knife — important, as the eggplant could explode otherwise. If using butternut, scoop out any seeds from the cavity and slice shallow cross-hatched lines across the cut surface of the flesh. If using kūmara, cut in half lengthwise and slice shallow cross-hatched lines into the cut side of each half. Wrap the garlic bulb loosely in tinfoil, drizzling a little olive oil over it before you pinch the tinfoil closed. Drizzle a little olive oil over the cut surface of the butternut or kūmara and place it, along with the whole eggplant and the tinfoil-wrapped garlic bulb, on a baking-paper lined oven tray. Roast for about 40 minutes, turning the eggplant over once or twice.

2: Remove the vegetables from the oven and allow to cool slightly for about 15 minutes. Scoop the tender butternut or kūmara flesh into a bowl along with the soft eggplant flesh – you can discard the skin of both vegetables but I tend to snack on them as I’m making the dip — and squeeze the roasted garlic cloves in too. Mash everything together roughly along with the remaining 2-ish tablespoons of olive oil, the two tablespoons each of tahini and lemon juice, the half teaspoon of chilli flakes and the 1/4 teaspoon dried mint.

3: Taste to see if it needs more salt, lemon, or oil, and then spread the dip in a shallow bowl or wide plate, drizzle with a little more olive oil and scatter with the roughly chopped three tablespoons of mint leaves, plus some extra chilli flakes if you wish.

Store covered in the fridge, allowing to get closer to room temperature again before consuming.

Note: The original recipe calls for fresh red chilli, with green onion to garnish. I didn’t have either so used the above-mentioned chilli flakes, and some chopped chives for garnish.

music lately:

A Little Priest from Sondheim’s bloodthirsty Sweeney Todd, I saw a local production of it last month and despite it not being a musical focussed on catchiness first and foremost, its refrains have continued to stay with me. For maximum joke-per-second agility (the popped ‘p’ in “fop” is an exquisite choice) I recommend Christine Baranski and Kelsey Grammar (the latter curiously made up in Jean Harlow eyebrows in a decision I can only assume looked more effective from the balcony); for wringing every last nuance and drop of menace from the number I recommend Imelda Staunton and Michael Ball’s version; generally I find Staunton a little stressful and overcooked on stage but here she’s landed in just the right space and Ball’s Sweeney is rivetingly, magnetically terrifying.

Innocent X by Pat Smear. Compellingly indecisive.

30 Century Man by Scott Walker. My only fault with this song is that it ends too soon and makes me incapacitated with emotion, perhaps at 90 seconds it’s just long enough, all things considered.