When intrepid photographer Mark Israel Sellem of The Jerusalem Post went to shoot a special event featuring kosher but rarely eaten biblical foods at Eucalyptus restaurant more than a decade ago, he never expected to make a lifelong friend. After photographing rare delicacies like buffalo, king clip fish and guinea fowl, Sellem was still searching for a breathtaking image for the front page.
On an impulse, Sellem approached chef/owner Moshe Basson and asked him to come up with something funny to do in front of the camera.
Thinking quickly, Basson grabbed a bull's testicle, dipped it in oil, tossed it into a hot frying pan, and then spectacularly hurled the piece of meat into the air as it burst into flames.
An instant friendship was born and we found our cover photo.
The two friends and I reunited on a crisp spring evening at Basson's iconic fine-dining restaurant in Jerusalem's Hatzot Hayotzer. Basson was dressed in a clean, white chef's lab coat, his trademark braids neatly trimmed, his deep, beautiful voice. We talked about his new cookbook, why we need to take care of our bodies by eating foods that nourish our minds as well as our bodies, and the impact of a post-October 7 world.
Health is an asset
“Don't eat too much bread,” Basson cautioned as piping hot focaccia and dip were delivered to our outdoor table, which was set in a lush corner filled with rose bushes and various plants, including herbs we picked to use in our cooking. It was also the first piece of food-related advice the veteran chef ever shared with us. IN JERUSALEM editor Erica Shakhne (right) and writer Noah Amoyal eat bread (but don't eat too much!) with chef Moshe Basson at Eucalyptus. (Photo by Mark Israel Sellem)
“My next book is Living Like Rambam and [mindfully for a long life] “Like Methuselah. There's a lot of scientific research on this, but the medical journals are about 20 years behind in writing about it,” he begins, talking about the next book he's working on, long before discussing his new cookbook, which is in stores now. This is perhaps emblematic of Basson himself: a man who is never complacent, but always thinking about the next step.
“There are two main poisons: sugar and hydrogenated oils,” he continues. “They're inflammatory substances.” Even the much-talked-about grapeseed oil doesn't work as well as you'd expect, he says, and you should stick to olive and avocado oils.
Basson and his family were steeped in healthy eating, and it shows in his cooking today. He explains that he's a big advocate of incorporating anti-inflammatory spices like turmeric and having tomatoes on the menu at least once a week, and waxes poetic about the wonders of roasted tomatoes. His recommendation list also includes fermented foods like sauerkraut, which is rich in good bacteria, as well as cheese and wine (he doesn't blink when the server pours him a glass of chilled rosé). Afterwards, we share a bottle of fine Catlav red.
“It's all about moderation. I don't want to overeat, but I don't want to restrict myself too much either,” he said, adding that much of his life is influenced by Torah philosophy.
“I used to catch colds all winter long, but now I stay healthy all year round,” he boasts.
Basun's reverence for Torah is evident in his new Eucalyptus Cookbook, where he shares personal stories and cites Bible verses as inspiration for many of his creative dishes. Where else can you find a recipe for white bean soup while also learning about the biblical origins of couscous and why King Solomon was a big fan? In this way, the book takes readers on a masterful culinary journey that teaches them not only how to cook, but also how to live.
Between his signature recipes, which fuse Levantine, Jewish and Arabic cuisine, such as maqlouba (always served with gusto in his restaurants) and baklava, he shares childhood memories of the foods and traditions of his native Iraq (where he moved with his family to Israel when he was nine months old), and his regular forays into the forests of Jerusalem to find fresh, locally grown ingredients. The book features nearly 100 kosher recipes that will appeal to a wide range of readers, from meat eaters to gluten-free advocates.
Basson conveys that you don't have to be a top chef to create flavorful, memorable dishes — rather, good food is based on fresh ingredients, patience, and love.
He smiles when we point out that his life revolves around food. (“Me too!” Erica interjects gleefully.) His philosophy on life, his livelihood, his hobbies all revolve around what we put in our stomachs.
“I never realised this, but it's true! Food is tactile: you touch it, you smell it, you breathe it, it's all about it,” Basson muses. “If you're born with a love of food, you're interested in every aspect of it. For example, when you break a piece of bread and hear the crunch, you want to know the whole story of that bread: why it sounds like that, why it tastes like that, why it makes you feel like that after you eat it?”
The Road to Eucalyptus
Basson's culinary journey began in 1960 with the planting of a small eucalyptus tree in the backyard of his parents' Jerusalem home. Decades later, when the tree had grown strong and large, the Basson family opened their first restaurant there, and ever since, the chef has been putting his own modern twist on dishes inspired by ancient civilizations.
Today, he has cemented his place as one of Israel's most respected chefs and is even featured in the Netflix documentary “A Story of a Generation with Pope Francis,” in which prominent creative people over the age of 70 discuss their life philosophies with younger filmmakers. Notable figures such as Jane Goodall, Martin Scorsese, and our very own Basson appear in the four-part documentary, with each episode focusing on one of four themes: “Love,” “Dreams,” “Struggles,” and “Work.”
Just a few weeks away from his 74th birthday, Basson shows no signs of slowing down, but like much of the country, there is an air of melancholy hanging over him.
Before addressing the topic of October 7, Basson is somberly reminded of his first visit to Maltev HaShoah (Holocaust Room) on Mount Zion. His school tour of the memorial's dark, cavernous chambers as a 12-year-old has stayed with him ever since.
“My whole outlook on life was based on what I saw then. It was always lying dormant just below the surface, but I didn't really know what to do with it. Because of this, I became a Golani.” [Sayeret] “I was an officer in the IDF, and it all started at that moment. I coined the phrase 'Never Again' in my mind. I had the phrase in my mind before I even heard it,” he recalled.
“When October 7th happened, a lot of people around me started remembering the Holocaust,” he continues. “But this is not the Holocaust. We were not there. Now I'm more afraid of what's happening to our allies, who are starting to abandon us. The idea that they're mocking us with the embargo… how can they say they're our friends? I'm also concerned that this kind of talk will only embolden our enemies.”
In the midst of this earnest discussion, a waiter arrived with a magnificent dish: asado on fluffy polenta. Basson quickly reverted to chef mode and stared at the plate with a dismayed look on his face.
“Tell them to put a garnish on the plate, we can't just serve it plain,” Basson says sternly.
He quickly calms down and gets back to the point.
Hearty Cocktails
Tonight, Thursday, May 16, is a special night at Eucalyptus, because they're serving up a “Cocktail for Carmel,” named after a still-held hostage who grew up on the Beeri Kibbutz and celebrates her 40th birthday tonight. Diners are encouraged to order her favorite gin-based drink, take a photo and tag @BringCarmelBack. (See box for recipe.)
This heartfelt commitment prompted us to ask him about his involvement with the Chefs for Peace organisation. Does he still believe we can live in harmony with our neighbours? He smiles sadly.
“That's a million-dollar question and in a way I have to answer it but it's very disappointing. We have a Chefs for Peace WhatsApp group and it makes me angry when people write cheerful things like 'Good morning!' I can't act like nothing happened,” he says, shaking his head.
Asked how the war affected Basson in other ways, he acknowledges that it took a toll on him, both financially and physically. He points to the cover of the cookbook, a photo of himself taken a few years ago. “I know I look better now,” he jokes. “I know,” we reassure him.
future
Looking ahead, Basson said the restaurant has seen little to no customers since the Hamas attack. This night is busy and has a steady flow of customers, but he said that's unusual. The lack of customers during the war and the impact the coronavirus crisis has had on the restaurant are issues the chef can no longer deny.
As a result, he has been in the red for months and has decided to be open with us, our readers, about the fact that he is losing money – some days he is losing money just to keep the lights on.
But Basson is not discouraged: Though he was forced to temporarily close his shop during the Second Intifada, he knows this too will pass.
“I don't want to close the restaurant, but if we did, the restaurant wouldn't go anywhere and we'd come back, but for the sake of continuity, I want to stay open as long as possible,” he says, adding that he's also open to travelling abroad to give chef demonstrations, as well as catering for family events such as bar mitzvahs and sheva brachats.
The juicy asado returned, bringing relief to everyone at the table, this time with the requested accompaniments. Most nights, dishes like this would be the highlight of the meal, but not at Eucalyptus. Here, you can also indulge in mouth-watering dishes like fire-roasted eggplant with raw tahini and aged pomegranate syrup, hot and crispy cauliflower baked with halburach tahini, Syrian khube beh tartare infused with wheat, mint and onion, and, of course, Basson's famous maqlouba, a casserole of rice, vegetables, saffron and almond yogurt.
It was an indulgent meal, fitting for a solemn occasion, but since neither of us normally overeat and our generous hosts are advocates of embracing all that life has to offer (within reason, of course), the menu, atmosphere and conversation all seemed perfectly aligned for a magical evening.
