Amira Haddad

My grandmother cooked for the whole street in Beirut. Not a restaurant—just her kitchen, her door open, and whoever showed up ate. I've been trying to recreate that feeling since I moved to NDG twelve years ago.

Six people is the most my kitchen can handle, which is perfect because that is how many chairs fit around my table. You don't sit and watch: you chop, stir and argue about how much garlic is too much. By the time we sit down, you made the meal with your hands and already know the person who chopped beside you.

I have a cat named Zaatar who will try to sit on your lap during dinner. Don't fight it.