Kasundi. You’d be hard pressed to have entered a cafe in Melbourne over the past year without seeing this word on the menu. Burgers, sous-vide eggs, even the standard avo on toast have laid claim to this condiment. What is it?

Simply, it’s a hot/sweet Indian tomato relish, my version with the tart kick of North African preserved lemons. At first glance, the longish list of spices may inch this recipe toward the “too hard” basket, but I assure you it is as easy as frying off the spices, pouring in the liquid, stirring, and leaving to its own devices for an hour. Then, store in the fridge and use it as sophisticated substitute for ketchup, a healthy smear on your sandwich, or atop grilled veggies, fish or meat. A fresh batch of spicy kasundi would also make a stellar gift for a food-loving friend.

After one taste, I saw the sparkle in my chutney-loving husband’s eyes… all the proof I need that this little number will be a repeat offender in our kitchen.

Audio pairing: Kingfisha, “Piece of the Puzzle”

A dose of honesty, to start: I’m a pressure cooker girl. I love the intensity of pressure cooking, the ability to pull tender lamb shanks out of the pot in 15 minutes. But, I’m also a busy girl, and most days, arrive home with hunger that rivals Templeton’s from Charlotte’s Web.

For those of who us for are time-poor, whether it be due to full time work, parenting, school, or any reason really – the merits of a slow-cooker are undeniable. Knowing that when you return home – or surface from piles of work at home – there will be a fresh, real-food meal waiting for you, is among the greatest comforts I can imagine.

And so, with slow cooker in hand, I started experimenting. Soon enough, this adapted tagine came to life, rich with Australian lamb, ginger, cumin and coriander, greens, and red lentils to thicken. Very little effort for a healthy, satisfying dinner as soon as we arrived home (something worth noting: slow cookers are your friend when it comes to wholesome eating – stodge is yesterday’s news).

As a first-time slow cooker user, I was impressed by the KitchenAid’s ease of use. Its three settings – high, medium and low – run on a timer that automatically switches to a Keep Warm setting when the meal is ready (so, no risk of overcooking). As with all KitchenAid products I’ve used, the Slow Cooker is sturdy, its base made of stainless steel and pot insert of heavy, easy-to-clean ceramic. The lid is light but air-tight, and uniquely features two little windows that allow you to stir or serve without taking the lid off and reducing the temperature – great for adding quick-cooking veggies toward the end.

I found the pot’s oval shape and large 6L capacity really handy – I’d have no trouble fitting in a lamb roast or whole chicken, but could just as easily make a stew, as I’ve done today, or a big batch of jam or chutney for jarring. As winter approaches, I’m thinking it would be a great use for boozy mulled cider when we have friends over… just a thought.

KitchenAid very generously offered to let me keep this Slow Cooker after I tested it out – thank you! With cold weather on its way, you can expect more slow-cooked experiments – I’d love to hear your thoughts! Until then, for this full recipe, visit the KitchenAid website.

Plump medjool dates, velvety ricotta and a slight hint of flower water – my new favorite dessert. My husband, enamored with ricotta in general, likened them to Middle Eastern-style cannoli.

Dates are a natural complement to orange blossom water, and the ricotta’s creamy mellowness elevates this simple snack to dreamlike proportions. Soft and decadent, they beckon for sips of strong black tea or coffee in between bites to complete any meal. Or, elevenses perhaps?

All that’s required is a simple mix of the filling ingredients, and slicing the dates almost in half, to remove the pit. I piped the ricotta mixture into each date, then topped with crumbled pistachios. A zipper sandwich bag is a perfectly acceptable substitute for a piping bag (this is what I used, with an icing tip in the end), but in times of need, a trusty teaspoon won’t disappoint.

Audio pairing: Pharoahe Monch, “Push”

Namoura is pure romance, pure pleasure, in the way only an Arabic sweet could be. It is rich and dense, semolina crumbling under the tongue, yet chewy and sweet, soaked in sticky flower syrup. Like my turmeric tea cake, the pan is greased with tahini rather than butter, mellowing each bite.

Several months ago, a weekend hankering led to spontaneous namoura baking; the result was divine, though markedly untraditional in its height and lighter texture. Shortly after, my mother mentioned that in fact, my aunt Maha is the family’s reigning queen of this dessert. Naturally, I begged my cousin Heba to extract this secret recipe from her mother.

May I say, my first effort was a fine one. But this, friends, is the real deal. Though she now resides in Memphis, Tennessee, Maha’s heart remains in her native Gaza, Palestine, and it comes through in every bite of this namoura. It is traditional, gentle, and perfect. It’s just what I’d been looking for, under my nose all these years.

The recipe is easily halved, should you desire a smaller batch. The original quantities, just as Maha makes it, are included below.

P.S. it is very worth adding that Maha’s middle daughter, my cousin Nuha, is the fabulously stylish woman behind Habibi. And in February, she became a new mama! Pop over and say hello.

Audio pairing: Pete Rock, “A Little Soul”

Fast and slow: that’s how I’d describe my life lately. Mid last month, I started a new job at an international arts festival. It’s challenging – many, many moving pieces at once – but exciting, and for the first time, I feel my passions and my career are aligned.

I feel fortunate to have been presented several opportunities relating to this blog, and have been a busy bee behind the scenes…which means the front end of this space has snailed along at a slower pace than usual. Many good things are on the way, including these two things and a few more. Thanks for bearing with me.

The simple things, like these fresh figs and eggs from our family farm, keep me going while I juggle multiple projects. They keep me grounded also, always knowing that in times of slight madness, serenity is always within an arm’s reach.

I am about to bestow upon you the simplest recipe on Earth. It is also one of the most versatile. It is handy. It is there for you. Case in point:

You’re peckish; you want to peck on healthy stuff; you bought too many almonds from the bulk section; you’re mixing cocktails and need bar snacks; you’re watching the game; you’re reading on the balcony; your have fickle tastebuds and need a versatile snack to satisfy your every need… you see where I’m going with this.

Roasted almonds. Healthy, simple, complementary to any flavor sensation you desire. I’ve mixed mine with olive oil, smoked paprika, cayenne pepper and honey, because I needed some sweet and salty in my life. Just mix, roast for 15 minutes, and that’s it. Having a party? Make a few batches of different flavors and scatter around the bar.

Audio pairing: Toro Y Moi, “New Beat”

“Come over, we’re here, ” my sister says, “I’ll make spinach pie.”

It’s been nearly three years, but still feels like yesterday, the way our phone calls led to immediate visits. We lived 60km apart in Holland – she, with her husband and little boy (now two little boys!) in The Hague, me in Amsterdam. The trains left twice each hour, every hour. I knew exactly when to leave my tiny studio apartment with time to park my bike in the metallic tangle of Amsterdam Centraal railway station, to board the quick train to her place. In the sunnier, early months together, we’d lunch  on the balcony. Winter, in the kitchen.

These days, we’re 16,000km apart, but you’d never know it given how often we are texting, sending photos and Skyping. Today is her birthday, and because I miss her and am thinking of her, I made the one thing that always brings me back to her: her spinach pie.

She is a queen in the kitchen. She makes a mean pot of mussels Provençal, a killer berry cake, the best roasted veggies and many moons ago, taught me how to roll sushi at home (she loves Japanese food). But when I think of her, this savory treat always comes to mind. I think of how she made it when my life was in turmoil, and how she made it when things got interesting (with a particular Australian Man to whom I am now married). I remember how she made it just because it’s scrumptious, and because we could enjoy it together with tea from her enormous collection… and how thoughtful she was to send me home with the other freshly baked half.

In Holland, she uses bladerdeeg – puff pastry from the refrigerated section of her grocer. She lines a pie plate with one layer of dough, fills it with fresh spinach, a block of tangy Dodoni feta and an egg, tops with dough, and bakes until puffy and golden. It is impossible not to love.

Every time I have it, I think of her – today especially. Happy birthday, Shereen! I love you.

Audio pairing: Daft Punk, “Get Lucky”

This is it, folks, the last of this year’s summer harvest from our vegetable garden: two zucchinis, a handful of baby eggplants, two gorgeous sweet red peppers and a bundle of San Marzano tomatoes.

We’ve had a very fortunate growing season, sometimes (usually) up to our ears with produce. It was the hottest summer in Melbourne’s history, but our plants persevered, singed leaves and all. A few hangers on remain – a tiny zucchini here, a half-eaten tomato there (we have rabbits), but soon enough we’ll return to the farm to rip everything out, compost it, and work the soil for a fresh batch of winter seeds.

Am I sad about summer’s dwindling presence? No. Winter in Melbourne is cold – very cold sometimes. But cold weather means more sneaky cafe duck-ins for coffee and bundling up in snuggly clothes, both of which I love. And we’ll still see the sun. This is Australia, after all.

Shawarma: the Middle Eastern street food. Fast, fresh and affordable. Spiked with a tangy sumac, cardamom, cumin, ginger and cinnamon, it one-ups standard fast food in the seduction department, too. It’s certainly one of my favorites – admittedly an indulgence as streetside portions are often big enough for two (but who lets that get in the way).

Traditionally, shawarma meat – most authentically lamb, but chicken has become quite popular – is layered raw on a tall skewer, then roasted on a vertical spit. When the meat is gloriously brown and crispy on the outside, it is shaved off the spit, allowing the exposed meat underneath to brown in a continuous, heavenly fashion. The spicy shawarma is then tucked into Arabic bread (or served on a platter) with any combination of tomatoes, tabbouleh, hummus, lettuce or garlic sauce, and served hot.

In the absence of a spit roast at home, we shawarma enthusiasts cook it on the stove or in the oven, or a combination as I’ve done today. Poaching the chicken first allows for quick cooking and tender meat with minimal fat. To get the crispy effect of the spit, I then shredded the meat, placed it in a roasting pan in a single layer, drizzled with olive oil and broiled until the tips were golden brown and the spices caramelized.

Rolled up in a fresh Arabic bread  (pita) pocket, smeared with hummus and dotted with fresh chopped tomatoes, cucumbers and mint, we were in healthy-street-food-at-home-heaven.

Audio pairing: Darwin Deez, “You Can’t Be My Girl”

First, thank you for the outpouring of love regarding the Baklava Bakeoff and my BlogHer e-book article! The baklava results are in: I didn’t make it into the top 5 this year, but I’m thrilled to have been a semifinalist in this inaugural event, and will perfect my recipe for next year’s comp. I support any community initiative that celebrates our commonalities instead of highlighting our differences – what a bonus that it was all about food! Thank you again for your support and excitement. You are amazing and I love you.

Now, on to the main event. Earlier this week I was presented with a challenge: what to do with a zucchini twice the length of my head. To prove a point…

Right. We got a little carried away in the veggie garden.

Soup was the answer. Simmered away with cream-fleshed potatoes, the lone carrot in the fridge, garlic and sweet browned onion, our oversized zucchini soup was a surprise hit, one we are sure to make again and again as the weather descends into chilly Autumn. I’d make this for lunch with friends – it’s dairy and meat free, which is a bonus both for budget and dietary needs – and I’d happily let it carry me through the afternoon at work.

You could add cream if you like, but a good mashing potato will eliminate the need. Don’t be afraid to really let your onion brown – really brown. The caramelized sweetness provides a much needed boost to otherwise mild-mannered vegetables.

And to serve? Crusty bread is a must. We spoiled ourselves with pastizzi instead, a flaky Maltese pastry stuffed with ricotta cheese (you can find my recipe for them here). Highly indulgent, highly recommended.

Audio pairing: Bonobo, “Cirrus”