Lili Twizer — the story behind the table

One of my earliest childhood memories is watching my mother in the kitchen of the Beit Shean transit camp. The aromas of dried Persian lime mingling with cinnamon and saffron were burned into my mind from a very young age. By my teens I'd become my mother's sous-chef — her right hand in building up the day's stews.

The Beit Shean transit camp was a melting pot of Jewish communities. The many hardships we went through tightened the bonds between us — I spent long hours in my neighbors' kitchens and learned the full range of flavors from each community.

I learned the nuances between the Moroccan, Tunisian and Algerian kitchens. When I decided to deepen my love and turn it into a profession, the path was short. The curiosity built into me pushes me to investigate every dish I taste and decode its components.

It's important to me to stay creative and fold a personal signature into the traditional recipes I received from my mother and the neighbors in the camp. Every Bishulilim evening opens with a true Persian tea kettle and closes with cardamom coffee — and between the two the table is spread "with cords of fine linen and purple," as in the Book of Esther.