Time flies. Seven years ago today, following the success of my first award-winning cookbook, The Jewelled Kitchen (2013, Watkins), my second book, The Jewelled Table, was published internationally with Hardie Grant. On paper, it had everything: a bigger publisher, creative agency, more original recipes, beautiful photography, a growing international fan base, and an established reputation.

It’s also important to bear in mind that at the time, I was one of the few voices in what was still an unsaturated market. There were the so-called dinosaurs, for example the late Greg Malouf, Claudia Roden and Anissa Helou, few realise how much the work of early bloggers, authors, writers, and cooks did to democratise the space for today’s voices. Back then, earning respect and recognition was hard; we didn't have the power of social media to cut through the gatekeeping yet, though blogs paved the way.

Nevertheless, by doing the work, I became a good candidate for the kind of career publishers and media love to manufacture. In fact, I was already well-poised for that hyper-capitalist trajectory, with first-to-market plans on several book ideas, a nation-wide supermarket range, restaurant(s), and all the shiny trimmings.

But, The Jewelled Table, was never just about recipes, becoming the next “Ottolenghi” or fitting into the capitalist “Chefdom” wheel… at any cost at least. It was, and still is, a manifesto: challenging lazy tropes, rejecting erasure, debunking Western myths and bastardisation, resisting hyper-nationalistic food wars and reductionist histories born of our own internally colonised mindset, and insisting our stories belong on our own terms and in our voices.

Also, commercial publishing has its boxes, and there was only so much that could be pushed. For example, I was already bristling against labels like “Middle Eastern” that flatten WANA foodways and fall into detached colonial terminology. (Note: I was also pushing against “Levantine” and understood on the surface that it was a colonial misnomer, but I had still not fulfilled any in-depth research where I could vocalise it as I do here.) Still, I pushed.

In doing so, I discovered who the camouflaged Zionists were. I ‘lost’ followers, industry supporters, media opportunities, (Zionist) fans, and “legitimacy” in the eyes of Western gatekeepers.

I’ll admit, I haven’t always capitalised on social media, and that plays into the bigger picture too. But I’m choosing to be kind to myself - the last five years have been difficult globally and personally, while I’ve been navigating a less commodified path rooted in research, context, and dismantling the system. That’s meant disruption and halted projects- some I’ve spoken of, others still under wraps - from TV to restaurants to supermarket shelves. Some never saw the light of day because they no longer aligned, others collapsed through narrative clashes, political instability (like Taste Lebanon/Taste WANA), or sheer logistics (DAYMA). And yes, some through my own misjudgements (DAYMA as a delivery concept being one). None of this is about excuses. Whether it’s missed visibility, speaking out against the settler colony, or projects that stalled, it’s simply the reality of doing this kind of independent “entrepreneurial” (a word I’ve grown to hate) work.

Don’t get me wrong: I still believe in profits, and I charge a fair price for my work. Some may think it’s too much, and that is precisely the point. My prices reflect value, sustainability, and the refusal to undersell myself or my region’s heritage for the sake of appeasing a market that has long extracted from us without acknowledgment. That’s alignment.

I have learned and grown profoundly since 2018, and I have come to see clearly that I no longer wanted to partake in that framework. And while I have never fully confused market validation with substance, value and meaning, over the last seven years, I have come to understand the immense privilege and importance of alignment. It costs you, but the reward and growth are immeasurably worth it. And today, with everything going on in our world and region, more so.

I have never been one to give up and I have not been abandoning nor have I been failing; I have been aligning. And alignment takes time, patience, and a lot of sacrifice and perseverance. You really do have to absolutely love, adore, be obsessed and immersed in what you do to survive the lows. And I believe that shows dedication and commitment. The dignity and honesty of my work, the depth and truth it gives me and gives back to the world, is what inspires me to keep going.

Our region, our food, and our stories deserve better than that. The future of our gastronomy and hospitality lies not in mimicry or tokenisation, but in intellectual rigour, cultural honesty, and the courage to resist senseless commodification.

The future of our gastronomy deserves courage, not compromise. If you feel aligned with that, reach out.

Ma’ esalama (with peace) مَع السَلامة ,

Bethanyx

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Maraheb,

It’s been a little quiet here- but not for lack of things to say or cook. I meant to get this wrap-up out to you sooner- well, by the end of June. But here we are. As always, there’s been a lot stirring beneath the surface- some of it creative and exciting, some logistical and existential, and some… well, a sharp, not-so-sweet crumble.

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One of the deeply personal projects I’d been quietly working on didn’t unfold as hoped. The vision was clear, the groundwork solid, everyone aligned… but the stars? Nope, other plans. These near-misses have become a rhythm I know all too well. And while they’re maddening, they’ve also become refining. They have forced clarity and tested my conviction. I laugh- not without crying-that maybe I’m just getting all the evil-eye energy out of the way in one go!

This is the reality of the entrepreneurial path- especially when you’re building in a region where vision often outpaces infrastructure, or defaults to copying the latest success rather than betting on what’s truly original and needed. Political destabilisation is a mainstay. And deeply informed creative work is still struggling to be properly valued.

The dining scene, while full of potential, is still maturing. It often celebrates social dining at the expense of cultural depth and anchoring, confusing spectacle for substance.

Nothing about this process is linear, especially when you’re building something that refuses to fit the mould- not for the sake of being avant-garde, but because it dares to ask more of the experience.

Truthfully, there are days I question the path. I’ve (half) joked about moving to Ibiza (the agro-tourism culinary scene!!) or Sri Lanka. But I’ve also learned that doubt is part of the process- especially when the work is this personal. What I do know for certain is: I’d rather be in this than out of it. Because I care. Deeply. Obsessively. And despite the stumbles, I’m still building. I’m still here.

So thank you- for staying on this journey with me, and for your support. Some of you have been along for the ride since the very beginning- nearly two decades now. That means more than I can say. And hamdella, I’m exploring what the next phase could look like- with the right support and alignment. More soon, enshallah.

In the meantime, I’ve been (slowly) continuing work on the essays that build off the authenticity piece- which, in case you missed it, started here: The Curious Case of Authenticity. I’d really love to hear what your perspective is and I’m really looking forward to deepening the conversation.

There are now five essays in the works. And by “in the works,” I mean open word docs, scattered notes, and an ever-growing web of thoughts with zero clean endings. But we’ll get there. Eventually. Maybe. Hopefully. 😂 Anyway, I’m now in Lebanon for the rest of the summer as Dubai scorches. And there’s nothing like fresh mountain air in the land of my forefathers (no humble brag, but yes- my great uncle Mikhail Naimy, and my grandfather too) to get the juices flowing again. There really is something about that Baskinta air. We’ll wait and see :)

I also re-shared this piece I had written and published on Taste WANA last year on the term Levantine. If you’ve ever felt confused about regional terminology (or inherited labels that never quite fit), this one’s for you.

I stopped using “Levantine” years ago and here’s why: It doesn’t mean “from the Levant.” In fact, Levant itself is a Eurocentric invention- a vague geographic placeholder used by colonial powers to describe the Eastern Mediterranean through their own lens.. It historically referred to Europeans- merchants, missionaries, diplomats, living specifically on the coastal enclaves of Bilad al-Sham. Not the indigenous population. Sometime, early on in the last 76 years (ahem), it got reappropriated, and now it’s casually thrown around as a catch-all identity. But should we be using it just because everyone else is?

👉 Levantine or Shami? Reasserting an Indigenous Identity

What else you may have missed:

I have also published a few seasonal recipes, ingredients and stories you may have missed if you're only subscribed via email:

• 🌾 Freekeh: The Original Smoked Grain
  Survival, fire, resilience, and how this ancient grain still carries all three.

• 🍆 Batenjan Makdous
  Baby aubergines stuffed with walnut, garlic, and pomegranate. Pantry magic!

• 🫙 Loubieh Makdous + Video
  Green beans, preserved the old way. Crunchy, garlicky, bold. Summer stashed in a jar. 🎥 Watch the video here

• 🍝 Pasta Sharmatesca
  A tribute to my Makdous obsession - sharp, sultry, and perfect for when you want something comforting but not boring.

And finally, I’d love to hear from you - what seasonal dishes or ingredients are calling to you right now? What would you love to see in the next recipe drop?

Reply to this email or leave a comment - your cravings shape what comes next (almost).

Ma’ esalama (with peace) مَع السَلامة ,

Bethanyx

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If you found this insightful, check-out my in-depth breakdown and the case for adopting more indigenous terminology, here.