Palestinian Hospitality: Chef Hanan Rasheed in Her Own Words

Hanan Rasheed introduces herself simply, as a Palestinian chef. Now settled in Mexico City, she accompanies her daughter—who happens to be the ambassador. Yet Rasheed is something of an ambassador herself: she believes in dialogue and peace through food.

Born in the West Bank, her family fled briefly to Jordan during the 1967 conflict before eventually settling in California in 1973, and later New York, where she pursued her passion for cooking, studying formally.

Frustrated by the failure of diplomats to secure peace and safety for Palestinians and Israelis, Rasheed turned instead to what she calls “hummus diplomacy.” From that vision came My Healing Table, her initiative built on the conviction that community and common ground can be nurtured through a shared love of food. Her philosophy is deceptively simple yet profound: peace becomes possible when ordinary people sit across from one another, break bread, and truly listen. “It humanizes the conflict, creating mutual respect and understanding,” she explains.

At her healing table, the same ingredients may yield different dishes, each with its own flavor—just as people in conflict can recognize shared needs and rights while holding on to their differences. A shared meal, she insists, isn’t just sustenance—it’s a bridge.

“Hummus Diplomacy” Photo courtesy Gerardo Vieyra

Food as Memory, Food as Resistance

As the world reels from division and distrust, as rights are eroded and communities targeted in her homeland and beyond, Rasheed sees the culinary arts as a catalyst for healing conversation. That she has chosen Mexico is fitting: this country has a long history of welcoming exiles—Spanish Republicans, South American dissidents, persecuted Jews—and continues to offer safety, dignity, and belonging to the displaced and endangered.

I recently joined a small gathering of Rasheed’s admirers for a pop-up dinner that was nothing short of revelatory. It was here that I began to grasp what Palestinian cooking truly means. Wishing to avoid the Eurocentric shorthand of “Middle Eastern cuisine,” I noted both parallels and variations with dishes I had encountered in Lebanese, Iranian, Syrian, Turkish, Egyptian, Emirati—even Indian—kitchens. When I asked what was distinctively Palestinian, Rasheed smiled: “It’s all one.” Pressed further, she identified which recipes were rooted in her homeland and her family’s kitchen.

Bright, herby Tabouleh Photo courtesy Gerardo Vieyra

A Meal That Speaks of Home

The evening began with beautifully presented, if familiar, appetizers: silky hummus, smoky baba ghanoush, a variation of hummus crowned with sautéed meat, bright, herb-laden tabbouleh, house-cured olives with preserved lemon, smoky roast pimiento salsa, and za’atar-dusted pita.

Then came kousa mahshi bil laban—zucchini stuffed with rice and minced beef, bathed in a cream-enriched tomato sauce delicately perfumed with such aromatic spices as cardamom and turmeric, and finished with garlic sautéed in olive oil and dried mint brought from Palestine.

kousa mahshi bil laban - stuffed zucchini

Musakhan. Flatbread layered with roasted chicken

Next, the dish many call Palestine’s national treasure: musakhan. Flatbread layered with roasted chicken under a sweet-savory avalanche of sumac-spiked caramelized onions, crowned with pine nuts, and baptized in good olive oil.

As if that weren’t enough, next arrived the pièce de résistance maqlouba—literally translated as “upside-down.” A slow-steamed layering of basmati rice, chicken, and vegetables such as eggplant and potatoes, the pot inverted dramatically onto a platter to collective oohs and aahs. Rasheed recalled that, as a teenager, when tasked with flipping the dish, the whole thing collapsed. She scooped it back together, presented it anyway, avoiding reprimand. In Palestine, maqlouba symbolizes abundance, hospitality, and communal joy. Its heady aromas recall biryani—unsurprising, given the dish’s Mughal journey from Iran to the subcontinent. Served with a cooling yogurt-cucumber salad, it was lush, fragrant, and deeply comforting.

The pièce de résistance maqlouba—literally translated as “upside-down.”

Dessert was none other than Nabulsi knafeh, the pride of Nablus: fine strands of kataifi pastry encasing molten, stretchy Nabulsi cheese, soaked in perfumed syrup, and topped with crushed pistachios.

In Hanan’s Words

“Imagine this…” the chef begins. “Palestinians and Israelis come to the table—excited, eager to dig in. But it’s not a negotiation table, it’s a dinner table. A dinner table for what you might call a dysfunctional family, with many flaws and a long list of shortcomings.”

“Palestinian cooking is more than nourishment—it is memory, heritage, identity, carried in every recipe. These dishes are centuries old, passed down by mothers and grandmothers who preserved our story through flavor and tradition, even when the land itself was threatened. Each ingredient is a thread in Palestine’s cultural memory, tying us to home.”

“In Mexico, I’ve found a beautiful similarity: food here too is a vessel of history, resistance, and pride. Just as Palestinians safeguard their roots through dishes like maqlouba or musakhan, Mexicans preserve theirs through mole or tamales. Though far apart, both peoples share the truth that cooking is not only about feeding the body—it is about keeping a nation’s soul alive across time and place.”

“For Palestinians, food and land are inseparable. Food is memory—recipes carried across generations, each dish a story of home, of family, of a land that still lives in taste and tradition. Land is belonging—the olive trees, the fields, the soil itself, anchoring identity and hope, a blessing that sustains both body and spirit.”

“In the kitchen, families gather: grandmothers, mothers, daughters, and grand-daughters side by side, shaping bread, rolling grape leaves, sharing stories. These moments are more than meals—they are rituals of resilience, binding generations together and weaving love into every dish.”

“Together, food and land are not only sustenance, but heritage, resilience, and identity. They are the essence of Palestine, alive in every harvest, every recipe, and every family gathering.”

“We must never give up on peace. I sincerely believe that peace can be achieved with civil, non-violent negotiation and understanding. Conflict can only be resolved when two peoples start thinking of each other as humans—sharing the same rights, the same needs. They need to break bread at the same table. At My Healing Table my hope is that people will feel inspired, connected, united in the face of hatred and discrimination.”

Follow chef Rasheed on Instagram at @hananrasheed
Watch her heartfelt TEDX Talk here

Besides hosting private dinners and catered affairs, Chef Rasheed will present a public event—Palestinian Food and Music: An Afternoon of Collective Healing and Joy—hosted by My Healing Table and DJ Ahmed, in Parque México, Condesa, September 13th, 10 a.m.–3 p.m.

Nabulsi knafeh, the pride of Nablus