When I say I saw the moon last month, I mean for real: through a mighty telescope, staring right at her, frankly exposed and yet somehow voyeuristic — like seeing a painted Edward Hopper character, but also through a telescope — and undeniably powerful, not least because it happened on my birthday, not least because it had rained all evening and in the final minutes before calling it for the night, the sky suddenly shrugged and cleared for us. On the other hand, I completely missed the Aurora Borealis this week, experiencing it only as a vicarious facsimile of a facsimile through other people’s photos; to which I say: it’s the same sky! Give it to me! Food blogging in winter evokes those same emotions when I’m in a breakneck race against the clock to photograph my food in the twelve usable minutes — at best! — of Good Light. I can see the blue sky! It’s light and airy in my apartment! Give me the light! Why does my food look so muddy and dull?!

Fortunately, I caught this Zibdiyit Gambari at the golden hour of 4.38pm-4.52pm, and so you get to see it and hear about it. And not that I deal in hypotheticals, because they’re not real options and therefore there’s no point considering, but if a small goblin appeared and offered me either the chance to see Aurora Borealis or the ability to always catch the perfect light for my food blogging I can’t tell you, hand on heart, that I’d definitely go for the captivating visual miracle of science. Or at least, not the one you’re thinking of.

This dish of prawns simmered in a spiced tomato sauce is another recipe from Zaitoun: Recipes and Stories from the Palestinian Kitchen by Yasmin Khan, from which I shared the Shorbat Jarjir earlier this year, Khan in turn, cites the Gazan writer Ahmed Masoud as her source for this recipe. Now look, food keeps us alive and we keep our legacies alive when we keep food alive. There’s ongoing starvation and deprivation in Gaza as I write and as you read and my point in sharing these recipes — aside from that they’re incredibly delicious — is to cherish and reinforce the culinary aspect of Palestinian culture. I feel very fortunate to be able to do so; like most of us, being relatively fortunate is based on little more than a series of fragile coincidences.

Assuming you like prawns in the first place, and there’s something to be said for that nose-to-tail journey in every bite; the person with a bag of prawns in their freezer is asset-rich indeed. You need to do so little to them to achieve results that arc from presentable to fancy — they cook in moments, even straight from frozen, and their sweet flesh is amenable to numerous cuisines and applications. Here, don’t be fooled by the simplicity, given that the other main ingredient is a humble can of tomatoes. This recipe is sturdy yet sumptuous, with the tomatoes bubbling and reducing down into a thick, lusciously saucy coating for the prawns, themselves as tender and translucent as segments of tomato flesh. Somehow, that sole teaspoon of sugar forces a certain desirable syrupy intensity into the sauce; it happens every time I make this and I always think — this needs more sugar! It’s too liquidy! — and every time, it simmers down perfectly.

This dish is primarily defined, however, by its spices, in a combination that Khan names as particularly Gazan. There is a layering of brisk, grassy aniseed from both the dill and the caraway seeds — should you be lacking either, you could try fennel seeds and fronds instead — and an earthy warmth from the cumin and allspice, both of which the acidically sweet tomato responds beautifully to. I recommend serving this with some kind of flatbread to spatula up the sauce from your plate; I sometimes make a vibes-based freehand flatbread where I shake flour into a bowl till my hands tell me to stop, scatter over yeast and salt, knead in some warm water, and let it rise indescriminately before frying flattened handfuls in a dry, lidded pan until puffy. In these photos are supermarket roti, fried in butter till blistered and crisp and almost tasting like a pastry dessert; I recommend making one to gnaw on as you cook and one for the plate.

For more recipes exploring Palestine’s wonderful cuisine, I recommend this Banadora Wa Sumac, this M’tabbal Qarae, and this Avocado, Labaneh, and Preserved Lemon Spread.

Zibdiyit Gambari (Prawns in Spiced Tomato Sauce) 

I’ve made this so many times already; the hardest part is slicing the onion and so long as you keep an onion on you, it’s a pleasing store-cupboard dinner. The prawns cook in single-digit minutes, and the spices grow more and more warmly pronounced as the tomato sauce reduces down. A truly excellent dish, adapted a little from Zaitoun: Recipes and Stories from the Palestinian Kitchen by Yasmin Khan.

• 1 tablespoon sesame seeds
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 red onion
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/4 teaspoon allspice
• 1/2 teaspoon caraway seeds
• 400g tin diced tomatoes
• 200ml freshly boiled water
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 3 garlic cloves
• 2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh dill
• 1-2 green chillis (or a teaspoon or two of chilli flakes)
• 400g raw peeled prawns (frozen is fine)
• A handful of fresh parsley, to serve

1: Toast the tablespoon of sesame seeds in a frying pan until fragrant and lightly browned, then quickly tip onto a plate and set aside.

2: Finely dice the red onion. Warm the two tablespoons of olive oil in that same frying pan, and saute the onion until softened. Add the teaspoon of cumin, the 1/4 teaspoon allspice, and the 1/2 teaspoon of caraway seeds and stir them through the onions for about thirty seconds to let the spices grow fragrant in the heat.

3: Tip in the tin of tomatoes, the 200ml boiling water, and the teaspoon of sugar and raise the heat, stirring occasionally. Peel and roughly chop the three garlic cloves and add to the tomato mixture, followed by the three tablespons chopped dill, and chilli of your choice — if using whole chillis, seed and chop them, if using chilli flakes, just throw them on in.

4: Carefully lower the 400g frozen prawns into the tomato sauce, stirring to submerge them in it, and let it bubble away, stirring often, for another five minutes or until the prawns are cooked through. You’ll see them defrost and grow rather translucent, then grow pale and opaque again — this is the point when they’re cooked.

5: Divide between two plates, making sure there’s an even number of prawns between you. Chop the parsley and scatter over, along with the reserved toasted sesame seeds and a further drizzle of olive oil.

Eat immediately. The recipe states that it serves 4 but I think two people could handle this; I have also made it several times for myself and reduced only the quantity of prawns, nothing else.

Note: Khan’s instructions involve working the garlic and spices together in a mortar and pestle, which I also wholeheartedly support, but I don’t have one, hence my method above.  

music lately:

Glorious by the Breeders. Without wanting to beatify the now-late Steve Albini, his footprints are undeniably over a lot of the music I love, including his own. This stellar opener from the Breeders’ debut album has a lot of those same sinister yet lethargic looming qualities that later songs like the distressingly good Do You Love Me Now — produced by Kim Deal, mind you — would send into overdrive and me into obsession.

Who Do You Love by Deborah Cox. From the genre of ‘perfect r’n’b songs’, in my youth I thought this was straightforward and catchy but in the wisdom of my advanced years I am fascinated by the way the harmonies resolve each chorus; I’m quite certain she doesn’t sing it the same way twice and each time it builds to something new and dizzyingly comforting. I certainly covet that fitted chartreuse shirt exactly the same amount, however.

No. 2 Waltz by Tchaikovsky from the ballet Swan Lake; I saw the Royal New Zealand Ballet perform this last Thursday and sobbed through the entire thing and you have to believe me when I say I’m not exaggerating; it was just that heartbreakingly beautiful. This piece of music sounds so shockingly emotional and soul-waterblasting that you’d think it would be a climactic number but instead, it’s deployed almost immediately as a hearty expositional dance for the townspeople, a classic Tchaikovsky move.

PS: As I’ve said previously, ReliefAid’s Gaza Appeal is doing important work despite setbacks and roadblocks and if you’re looking for relief effort to support, I suggest them as a starting point.