A few weeks ago, I co-hosted a dinner party with my friend Ana. We had both been to Israel, as had many of our guests, and we wanted to try our hand at as authentic an Israeli meal as we could churn out to help us remember our time there. (You’ll excuse the unexpectedly splendid-but-store-bought hummus and pita from Holy Land Deli that we served; we had our hands full with other culinary endeavors.)
Our grated carrot salad was light and delicious. The homemade falafel was well-received. We barely made a dent in the massive pan of (also store-bought) buttery, flaky, baklava goodness. But what disappeared first and got the loudest, rave-est reviews was our baba ganoush — which was especially nice to hear from two of our friends who just got back from study abroad in Israel and were craving authentic nosh.
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