For Linda Dangoor, the loss of her Arabic mother tongue was one of the worst embodiments of the rootlessness caused by her family’s exile from Iraq.
At the launch of her second cookbook, From the Tigris to the Thames, at JW3 last month, the designer, painter, ceramicist and cookery writer described moving to London aged 12: “I always wanted to fit in, but it was at that time that I felt the loss, that exile was also about loss.
“I lost my home and the community was dispersed, but the most sensitive thing for me was loss of language; I loved Arabic so much. Had I stayed in Iraq, had the situation been conducive enough for us Jews, I would have been a writer or a journalist.”
In conversation with Lyn Julius, the co-founder of Harif*, and in front of a packed-out audience, Linda shared stories of her journey from Iraq to Beirut (where the family spent two years and where she says her tastebuds “exploded”), to London in the 1960s and then to Paris, where she lived for 12 years. In between she spent time in Ibiza, where her father was employed. “There I encountered new cultures and the cuisine of different places, which really enriched my way of cooking,” she said.
Many of these stories are also in Linda’s book, which she describes as “a tapestry – part-memoir and part-cookbook, where I interweave recipes with personal reflections on the idea of home and belonging”. Yotam Ottolenghi has called it “such a generous cookbook”, and Claudia Roden said of it: “Exciting flavours evoke a lost paradise and new beginnings in an engaging story of migration and identity.”
Having left Iraq aged 10, Linda says her memories are not complex, but she described how her home was “her world” and this world she depicted in conversation and in her book is a far cry from the typical Anglo-Jewish one. She lived in a house with her grandparents, four cousins, two uncles, three aunts, and even her grandmother’s brother, who would come to stay with them. “Our tradition of living together like a tribe was like being in a mini-society,” she reminisced.
“Our house stood on the Tigris River. It was a very important presence for a lot of us. I learnt to swim there, and what I loved was in the summer the level of water would go down and there would emerge these sandy islands on which we would have our picnics.”
She recalls the excitement of the new season’s fruits; the family had trees bearing pomelo fruit, Seville oranges and berries. “Every day, fresh bread would be delivered to us – bread that was baked in a tanoor. What I really loved was the pieces of fat from lamb that was grilled and all us kids would want that fat, it was so delicious.”
Her childhood sounds idyllic but in 1958 the ruling monarchy was overthrown by a military coup. “The airport was closed and things were quite dangerous and unstable for everyone. My parents and my cousin’s parents thought it wasn’t a good place to bring up a family and the idea of leaving when the airport would be open was brewing in their minds,” she said.
She recalled Beirut – where she saw the sea for the first time – as being quite unlike Iraq. “We [the family] were reunited and the food was so wonderful, little plates – the flavours were completely different, very much lighter food.”
She delighted the audience when she said that, coming to London, “it was always raining and I loved that at first. I thought how exotic, but I soon regretted it,” she laughed.
It was her mother who taught her to cook and Linda loved watching her in the kitchen. “She is a fantastic cook. I was her sous chef when we arrived in London. I would make mayonnaise, she would teach me how to make a vinaigrette. She was so meticulous.”
It was also her mother who encouraged her to study painting and drawing and, despite initially failing art A-level, Linda then went to art school, “which was a new vehicle of expression for me”. She moved to Paris, where she set up a graphic design business. France was also where she started to feel at home and where she contemplated settling down (she was fluent in French), but she realised she was an island there.
“When I came back [to England], I felt part of the community that I had tried to get away from when I was trying to be English. I met people who knew me, knew my grandparents, my parents… it suddenly became so easy. I was no longer an island.
“It was also the time that I met my husband Frank; for a very long time, I never wanted to marry an Iraqi. But marrying Frank connected me to my homeland, and I said to him just before we got married: ‘I lost my home in Baghdad, but you will be my homeland,’” she recalled tearily.
She realised that the community she had perhaps previously taken for granted was one rich in culture and traditions. “And also there is a balance in being part of a community but not being swamped by it, to be an independent person.”
In contrast to her first cookbook, Flavours of Babylon, which showcases her family’s Babylonian Jewish recipes, From the Tigris… is a love letter to all the places she has called home. It contains recipes that she has devised and cooks herself at home, many of them with a Middle Eastern twist.
Cooking need not be complicated, she said, “but you need to be organised”. She suggested readers try the fish recipes – the seabass with capers and preserved lemons, the halibut in a Mediterranean sauce, and the poached mackerel with honey and vinegar – “which are simple and take no more than 15 minutes”.
Other recipes include such mouth-watering recipes as chicken in a date syrup marinade, warm trout salad with Piedmont black rice and rosewater and saffron milk pudding. Linda says in her book: “My love of food is the thread sewn into the pages of this book.” It certainly shows.
*HARIF is a UK charity representing Jews from North Africa and the Middle which promotes their history, culture and heritage.
From the Tigris to the Thames by Linda Dangoor is published by Green Bean Books, £25. lindadangoor.com
