We ♥️ Dad! Happy Father’s Day Grilling

We offer this week one incredible recipe to honor two incredible fathers.

When my brother Rafi and I were little, we loved hearing stories of my father’s life growing up in Baghdad. He would tell us about his father’s wholesale food business and his silly Arab workers who would try to cheat him and how my grandfather would always outsmart them. He would tell us about his clever mother who managed a household of nine children, along with her mother and married siblings. He would tell us about his eldest brother Moshe who was very active in the T’nuah (the Zionist movement for emigration to Israel) and his own role as a runner taking messages from cell to cell. He never told us that being a “Zionist” was a crime punishable by hanging, but he did tell us how his mother would be so angry that Moshe involved my young father in his underground activities.

He told us about his escape from Iraq over the mountainous border into Iran when he was 15 years old.

He told us about his life in Israel as a young man. He never mentioned the food rationing and the other difficulties of life in Israel in the ’50s.

We constantly asked him about the time our Uncle Shlomo was almost kidnapped by a Muslim vendor in the Arab souk.

Every day Shlomo, who was six years old at the time, would pass by this man’s stall on his way home from school. The man would smile at him and hand him a candy, slowly earning my uncle’s trust.

One afternoon, he kept delaying Shlomo at the stall. Then it became dark and all the other vendors had left for the day. The Arab man turned mean and grabbed Shlomo to take him to his house. Shlomo began crying. As luck would have it, two Jewish soldiers had just defected from the Iraqi army. They saw that my uncle was fair skinned with green eyes and was dressed in European style clothing in contrast to the Arab peasant who was wearing a dishdasha (a long cotton robe) and babruch (thin sandals). They began to speak to Shlomo in Judeo-Arabic and soon rescued him from the wicked Arab.

June 1st was the 84th anniversary of the Iraqi Farhud, a Nazi-inspired pogrom against the Jews that ended in 180 tragic murders, 1800 savage injuries and the ransacking and plunder of countless Jewish homes and businesses.

My father was six years old at the time of the Farhud. When the family saw the loud, angry mob coming down their street, his uncle Shalom picked up a heavy metal tool. My father said to him “There are so many of them! What can you do by yourself?”

Everyone ran up to the roof of the house (roofs in Iraq were flat, so that people could sleep up there on hot summer nights). Eventually their Egyptian Moslem neighbor Abu Nahas, a coppersmith and bookbinder, allowed them to take refuge in his house for a few days. He even tried to guard their house, but the mob ransacked the house, taking the valuables and leaving all their dishes and cutlery strewn in the dirt outside.

My father never told us the sad details — the savage butchering and murders. He would always laugh and say that after the Farhud, until the day his family left for Israel 10 years later, the neighbors children would come to the door every few days and ask my grandmother for sugar and other household staples or for treats and toys. She always gave it to them.

This Father’s Day, I will miss my strong and handsome, intelligent and witty, kind and wise father. I will continue to do my best to honor his legacy and be forever grateful for the love he gave us.

—Sharon

It’s Father’s Day — and that, of course, means grilling.

If you know my father Messod, you know he’s a gourmet, a lover of good food. But he’s a very picky eater and I don’t mean just picky about taste. He’s particular about everything — the place, the smell, the presentation, as well, of course, as the flavor. As far as eating goes, he mainly sticks to French, American and Italian cuisines. Sushi, Chinese and Mexican, you ask? Not for him.

Well, with one exception. A few years ago, he tried tortilla chips and he loved them. We were all so excited and hopeful that it might open his horizons to more Mexican food. It didn’t!

Unless I make it. If I cook it, he’ll eat it. Even Mexican food. As long as it’s not too spicy!

I cook for my father a few times a week. It’s not easy because he gets bored by food. I have to keep the recipe ideas fresh and new.

My mother always looked out for my father’s health. She lovingly took care of him and completely spoiled him.

All his grandchildren adore going out with “Papi.” He has a deep appreciation for the finer things in life, and dining out with him means great food. Most often, a fine dining experience.

My father is very handsome. He has green eyes, a signature mustache and is always impeccably dressed. He speaks French, Spanish and English, sometimes all at once. He often blends words from different languages mid-sentence, leaving you to figure out what he’s saying.

He always worked in finance, so before the check even arrives, Papi can guess the total. And he’s right about 98% of the time! Waiters are often intimidated by him, but by the end of the meal, they’ve usually fallen in love with him.

Luckily for me, my father absolutely loves a good barbecue. Whenever my father hears the word “barbecue,” his eyes light up. Always a favorite!

I’m his only daughter, and I can truly say he’s always spoiled me. Since my mother passed away, we have grown even closer. I treasure every moment we share.

Happy Father’s Day, Papa. I love you!

—Rachel

For our Father’s Day recipe, we decided to make pargiyot, boneless chicken thighs. We love cooking pargiyot because they stay really juicy on the grill.

We created a marinade with our favorite spices — sweet paprika, sumac, cumin and Aleppo pepper, along with olive oil, freshly squeezed lemon juice and grated garlic. The flavors infuse into the chicken and form a wonderful crust on the grill.

We are obsessed with all the mini vegetables available at the market. To serve alongside the the pargiyot we made baby vegetables. We coated them in olive oil, salt and pepper and let the grill work its magic. The baby eggplant comes out smoky and perfectly creamy and velvety. The baby zucchini is tender and crisp with a sweet, grassy flavor. The grilled mini peppers are soft, juicy and deliciously caramelized.

Serve this incredible platter alongside fresh pita, an Israeli salad and roasted potatoes for the most perfect Father’s Day meal ever.

Even Papi would approve!

—Rachel and Sharon

Grilled Pargiyot

3 pounds boneless chicken thighs

Marinade:

1/4 cup olive oil

2 Tbsp sweet paprika

1 Tbsp cumin

1 tsp sumac

1 tsp Aleppo pepper

1 tsp kosher salt

3 large garlic cloves, grated

1 large juicy lemon, juiced

In a small bowl, combine the oil and all the spices and whisk until smooth. Add the lemon juice and continue whisking. Then add the garlic.

Place the chicken thighs in a large bowl. Pour the marinade over the chicken, making sure to coat all sides of the chicken.

Place in the refrigerator for one hour.

Heat the grill for 20 minutes until is very hot. Place the chicken pieces a few inches apart on the grill.

Grill for 10 to 15 minutes on each side. Depending on the barbecue, chicken may need a longer or shorter cooking time.

Serve on a large platter with grilled veggies and a dollop of pesto or tahini dressing.

Sharon Gomperts and Rachel Emquies Sheff have been friends since high school. The Sephardic Spice Girls project has grown from their collaboration on events for the Sephardic Educational Center in Jerusalem. Follow them
on Instagram @sephardicspicegirls and on Facebook at Sephardic Spice SEC Food