There are moments in the kitchen that are really personality tests. For us, the test always comes with long-cooked dishes that demand hours in the oven, endless patience and blind faith in the process. Cholent, for example. You put it together on Friday afternoon, seal the pot, invite guests and hope for the best. Inside, it is a surprise party.
You never fully trust the pot not to have lost too much liquid and dried out or burned, or the opposite, to have wallowed in its own juices and emerged pale and thin. Or under-salted, which is the worst possible outcome for cholent.
The same anxiety kicks in when making a lamb or mutton stew that requires long cooking. After three hours in the oven, the pressure starts. We like to send those cuts off for many hours in a tightly covered pan, surrounded by circulating liquid and steam. What is happening inside? Are the cuts holding together properly? There is no way to know without tearing through layers of foil you would rather not ruin. But the smell already wakes the neighborhood, slipping through window cracks and under doors. There is no escaping it. What is going on in there?
This week it happened to us in the middle of the night. We slid a deep roasting pan filled with beautiful lamb shank pieces into the oven. We wrapped it every way possible to keep the meat juicy and planned to go to sleep while low heat worked its magic. Just salt, pepper and a few whole garlic cloves in their skins. Nothing more was needed. When the raw material is good, you let it speak.
At 2 a.m., it was not speaking, it was shouting. We woke from dreams of a Bukharan market, surrounded by clouds of smoke and trays of freekeh, only to discover that reality was better. The house felt like a great Jerusalem tavern at its peak. Standing in pajamas in front of the oven, every instinct wanted to tear open the wrapping and check. What is happening in there? But with this cut, patience is the most expensive spice, sealing it like a vault.
In the morning, we turned the oven off. The meat was so tender it fell from the bone with a breath, swimming in its own juices, now transformed into a deep, dark, glossy stock. At lunchtime we turned the oven back on, set it to grill at the highest heat, and returned the tray for a quick final roast to add color. At the same time, we prepared a fitting side dish: freekeh mujaddara made from smoked green wheat, with its earthy flavor, fried onions, a little black lentils and Uzbek raisins.
The meat was poured over the top, collapsing and softening everything beneath it. The juices mixed into the wheat, soaking in. The taste? You will have to find out for yourselves.
Lamb shank with freekeh mujaddara
Ingredients:
For the lamb:
- 1 to 1½ kilograms lamb for long cooking, cut into large chunks, such as neck, shank or shin
- Olive oil, generously
- Salt and black pepper, generously
- Several whole garlic cloves, unpeeled
- Optional: a few herbs such as sage
For the freekeh mujaddara:
- 1½ cups freekeh, well rinsed and drained
- 1 cup black lentils
- 3 large onions, peeled and sliced
- ¼ cup oil
- Salt and black pepper, very generously
- ½ cup Uzbek raisins or barberries
- ½ teaspoon cumin
- Olive oil
- For serving: pomegranate seeds, if available, and chopped parsley
Instructions:
1. Take the meat out of the refrigerator one hour before cooking. Place in a bowl and season well with olive oil, salt and pepper.
2. Prepare a deep roasting pan. Line it with a large sheet of foil that extends over the sides, then add parchment paper to cover the base. Arrange the meat with its seasoning and the garlic cloves. Cover with more parchment and plenty of foil to create a sealed pouch. It doesn't need to be tight. You want the steam to circulate.
3. Cook in a low oven at 120°C (248 F) for at least six to seven hours. Twelve works beautifully. Do not open it midway. Trust the process.
4. Meanwhile, make the mujaddara. Fry the onions until very dark. Without induction, this can take about 30 minutes. Cook the lentils in plenty of boiling water for 15 minutes, then drain. Cook the freekeh in boiling water for 15 minutes and drain. Set aside.
5. When the meat is done, turn off the oven and do not open the pan. After an hour, you can check. It should be extremely tender.
6. Before serving, uncover the pan and return it to a preheated oven on high grill at 220°C (428 F) for five to seven minutes to add aroma and color.
7. In a large wok, mix the freekeh with two-thirds of the fried onions and the lentils. Season with salt, lots of black pepper, a little cumin and a drizzle of olive oil.
8. To serve, spread the mujaddara on a large rimmed platter. Pour the hot meat and its juices over the top. Scatter generously with the remaining fried onions, raisins, chopped parsley and pomegranate seeds.
Try not to be shocked by how good it is.
Getting ahead of dinner
Not long ago, Gwyneth Paltrow was interviewed on Amy Poehler’s popular podcast. This exchange says it all.
Amy (whispering into the microphone): What time do you like to eat dinner?
Gwyneth (biting her lip, looking embarrassed).
Amy (whispering): I like it at six p.m.
Gwyneth (also whispering): OK, me too.
Amy: I make reservations at six p.m.
Gwyneth: So do I.
Amy: I love it so much.
Gwyneth: Great.
Amy: Honestly, sometimes I like to be the first person in the restaurant.
Gwyneth: I was last night. I did 5:45 p.m. last night.
Amy: Incredible.
Gwyneth: I know.
Amy: To be in bed and have eaten by 8 p.m.
Gwyneth (sighing): Is there anything better?
Amy: I think about bedtime all day.
This perfect dialogue, which sounds like a confessional group therapy session, is actually the new manifesto of 2026: dinner has moved earlier.
If you want to fight for a table in the last seating, dance on tables, drink alcohol and order another dessert, great. There is room for that, once or twice a year. But as the eating out culture grows stronger in Israel, and has already taken over in the U.S., the sense of occasion fades and you are left with heavy digestion and heartburn at night. We all know that if the biggest meal of the day lands at 9:30 p.m., there will be consequences.
Generation Z, full of surprises and now celebrating its twenties, feels confident enough to admit it prefers to eat early. It has nothing to do with pensioner discounts or happy hour. It is about wellness, listening to the body and understanding that it is simply better.
So here we are, joining the trend as representatives of the grown-up generation, saying that for years we have preferred to eat early, or even skip dinner altogether. Deal with it.