Summer has descended upon Tel Aviv, and with it the ever-present canopy of heat and humidity that marks this season along Israel’s Mediterranean coast. But this year, in addition to the weather-induced haze, we’re under an even heavier cloud: the constant specter of October 7 and all that it has wrought here in Israel—and the Diaspora. 

Sometimes the fugue state of grief and uncertainty feels like too much to bear. So many are struggling, so much seems upside down. Nevertheless, we attempt to go about our daily lives even as the fate of our hostages remains unknown, when hundreds of thousands of Israelis remain displaced from their homes and while our young men and women are pressed into service to defend us.

Here in Israel, despite facing existential paralysis, there is an insistence on living. Merely existing as Jews, in the Jewish nation, feels like a victory in the presence of so many around the world questioning our right to do so. We take walks with friends (often to protests). We read (or listen to) books. We work. We sleep (although fitfully).

And, of course, we cook. It is in precisely these moments of turmoil that I find myself turning to cooking as an act of comfort, nourishment and, most important, resilience. When cooking isn’t merely a “job” for me, but a lifeline.

My Tel Aviv kitchen features large windows that open to a breezy deck and all-day sunlight streaming in from different angles depending on the time of the day. The space has become my sanctuary—the place where I can escape and focus on something other than the news. A cooking session often begins with me using my Israeli-made Zaksenberg juicer to extract lemon, lime, orange or pomegranate juice for a recipe. The physicality of the cranking motion followed by the satisfaction of watching colorful juice stream into a glass is downright meditative.

Next, I might grab a mixing bowl and whisk, spoon or spatula, some pantry staples and fruits or vegetables and begin futzing around to string together ingredients, flavors and techniques into new recipes.

It is during those hours in my kitchen that I feel a sense of peace that’s hard to come by these days. I find myself lingering at my counter to prolong that calm. Jewish people have always channeled their emotions into cooking and food—whether it’s processing the sadness of a shiva, the promise of a bris or a simchat bat, or the cherished routine of a Shabbat dinner—and I am borrowing that concept for my everyday cooking.

Owing to the heat, I’ve been turning to simple dishes that lean heavily on kitchen staples and shuk-fresh summer produce, building entire menus that are light on oven time and extraneous effort. The ambition is in the action itself: Putting together a meal for myself or my loved ones that not only accurately reflects the state of my heart but protects and buoys it as well. 

I’ve come to revel in the no-cook satisfaction of a salad like the one I share here, which fuses peak summer cantaloupe, juicy tomatoes, salty feta cheese and bitter arugula leaves and is dressed with olive oil and fresh lime juice. Or another salad that brings together Italian tuna, hard-boiled eggs, marinated chickpeas and tender lettuce leaves that can be put together quickly and enjoyed for a few days. Both should be prepared with top-quality olive oil, preferably from Israel.

And for dessert, a plate of thick, tart Greek yogurt or labneh cheese. Sprinkled with nuts and drizzled with honey and olive oil and finished with the surprise of grassy chopped thyme, this simple preparation is proof that the sum is often greater than its parts.

This summer, I’m seeking meals that calm both the appetite and the mind. 

Melon, Tomato, Feta & Arugula Salad — serves four

 

Ingredients

• 3 tablespoons lime juice
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 teaspoons honey
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
• 1⁄4 teaspoon kosher salt
• Freshly ground black pepper to taste
• 1⁄3 cup dried apricots, diced
• 3 cups ripe, sliced cantaloupe
• 3 cups arugula leaves
• 3 medium or 5 small vine-ripened tomatoes, cut into wedges
• 1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion
• 3/4 cup crumbled feta cheese

Instructions

Whisk the lime juice, olive oil, honey, mustard, salt and pepper in the bottom of a medium salad bowl. Add the cantaloupe, tomatoes and arugula to the bowl, then gently toss. Sprinkle with the sliced onion and feta.

Greek Yogurt With Pistachios, Honey, Olive Oil and Thyme – serves 4

 

Ingredients

• 2 cups Greek yogurt
• 1/2 cup toasted pistachios, chopped
• 3 tablespoons honey
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
• 1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt

Instructions

1. Spread the yogurt on a small platter with sides.
2. Sprinkle with the pistachios, then drizzle with the honey and olive oil and sprinkle with the thyme and salt.

Marinated Chickpeas With Italian Tuna & Eggs – serves 4

 

Ingredients

• 1/4 cup olive oil
• Finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon (2 teaspoons zest, 3 tablespoons juice)
• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
• 1/4 teaspoon chili flakes, plus more to taste
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for seasoning
• 1 15-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
• 1/2 cup chopped celery, plus any tender celery leaves
• 3 cups butter lettuce
• 4 hard-boiled eggs, halved
• 1 7.7-ounce can Italian tuna in olive oil, drained
• 1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion
• Freshly ground black pepper

Instructions

1. Whisk together the olive oil, lemon zest and juice, thyme, oregano, chili flakes and salt in a medium bowl. Add the chickpeas and celery, toss to coat, and let sit for 30 minutes to 2 hours on the counter, or up to 24 hours in the refrigerator.
2. Arrange the lettuce on a platter, spoon the chickpeas and their liquid over the lettuce and top with the eggs, tuna and onions.
3. Season with salt and black pepper, to taste.

---

Adeena Sussman is the author of Shabbat: Recipes and Rituals from My Kitchen to Yours and Sababa: Fresh, Sunny Flavors from My Israeli Kitchen. She lives in Tel Aviv.