NOUF AL QASIMI is a gastronomical tour-de-force – and green to boot.  Food writer, food historian, and blossoming chef, her passion for good food is rooted in a beguiling – and timely – philosophy of “eco-gastronomy.”  Of mixed Emirati and Lebanese-American heritage, Al-Qasimi, 27, enjoys a position among Santa Fe’s culinary cognoscenti as Leader of the local convivium of the international Slow Food movement.  Her momentum in the world of eco-cuisine is informed by a Yale degree in Fine Arts and a Masters in Traditional Chinese Medicine, a unique pedigree that allows her to marry a holistic appreciation of food and the body with an artist’s approach to refining flavors, building menus, and plating.  With plans to visit Beirut this winter and, one day, to open her dream restaurant near her family, Al-Qasimi stands poised to take the Middle Eastern culinary world by storm – one exquisite, loving bite at a time.

How did you first become professionally interested in food?

I’ve been fascinated with food since early childhood. Not just cooking and dining, but agriculture and anthropology, food-related history and literature. I was obsessed with collecting texts, blogging about food, food photography, participating in cook-offs and online food forums, and for a while I even operated an underground restaurant. I used to fantasize about living off the grid and farming my way to self-sufficiency. In 2005, I went to Lebanon to work with Souk el-Tayeb during a break from my job in alternative medicine public health policy reform, and Kamal Mouzawak, who was running the Souk and Slow Food Lebanon at the time, gave me the wake-up call I needed. I was gunning for a PhD in Nutritional Epidemiology at the time, thinking it the perfect confluence of all my interests. We were talking about some esoteric artisanal products that we both like, and afterwards he just looked exasperated. “What are you doing?” he said. “Why aren’t you doing this for a living? You have endless energy for it.” And the light clicked on.

Tell us about the philosophy and structure of the Slow Food movement. What is the nature of your work in New Mexico?

My work right now involves cooking and learning about how best to run a serious restaurant from both front and back of house, with the intention of opening and running my dream restaurant someday soon near my family. My work as a Slow Food leader is a volunteer effort. The Slow Food movement is founded upon this concept of “eco-gastronomy”, which is about balancing life’s fundamental pleasures with the act of making responsible choices. It’s a non-profit organization that was founded 20 years ago to combat fast food, fast living and people’s waning interest in their food sources. We have many ways of doing that; one way is through old-fashioned hedonism – Slow Food tastes better! – and another, for example, is by educating people about the global effects of their food choices. There are Slow Food convivia established in 132 countries and there are over 85,000 members worldwide.

We are fortunate to have a Board driven by amazing, inspiring women who have dedicated their lives to the pursuit of good, clean and fair food, in accordance with Slow Food values and principles: local, seasonal, organic, sustainable. We also work to preserve the heritage of local traditions and culture.

You’ve spent the last couple of years building your repertoire as a chef.  Can you tell us about one of your most memorable culinary learning experiences?

You can strive for perfection in this business but if you’re someone who can’t handle failure, humiliation and stress, then it’s not for you. Some of my most valuable lessons have been exercises in character; learning to be relentless, ruthless, to take orders and work through pain, and to wake up and do it all over again. But my greatest ‘aha!’ moment was when I was ten and had decided for the first time to make family dinner from a cookbook I had found. Among other things, there was a spinach soup that I completely destroyed. I didn’t know how to make a roux, as instructed, and the finished product was brimming with pellets of flour that exploded like miniature bombs of sawdust. This led to two singular goals: learning what I did wrong, and perfecting the recipe. I can see how similar failures would drive people away from something they’re initially attracted to, but it only spurred me forward.

When did things start to come together for you on the food front?

When I decided to come to the U.S. in order to learn about the restaurant business from the inside out. I had left Lebanon by necessity and knew what I wanted to do. I think some of us need a more palpable, hand-on sense of interacting with society than others. So I sharpened my knives and dove in, terrified. Within weeks I was established as a working chef and was eventually offered a weekly food column in a local paper, which I write under a pen name, so I suppose that makes me a restaurant critic – an interesting idea in itself considering the oft-perceived elitism of such a role.

Does your training in Oriental Medicine ever enter into the mix?

Absolutely. First, I have always found Japanese-style acupuncture more compatible with my general philosophy. While in school, I went macrobiotic for about ten months, and I embraced the challenge of turning a stringent nutritional plan into something that felt lavish and playful. Then, there are the five elements in Traditional Chinese Medicine, which are analogous to the five tastes. Have you ever had a fudge brownie that’s missing that requisite pinch of salt? It tastes dull. Like Oriental Medicine, cooking is all about balance. Sweet vs. salty, thought vs. feeling, sensation vs. intuition, art vs. science. I think about color and presentation on the plate that way, too. Is it complementary? Health is huge motivating factor for me. Who cares that it’s delicious, if it doesn’t feel good as it’s digested?

Is Santa Fe home?

One of my favorite quotes is by Jean George Nathan, “A man reserves his true and deepest love not for the species of woman in whose company he finds himself electrified and enkindled, but for that one in whose company he may feel tenderly drowsy.”  That’s the best way I can explain the dichotomy of my identity within the Arab world; Lebanon is my great love, and the UAE is my best friend. Santa Fe is my pilot light now because it’s where my work is focused, it’s been good to me and I love it here too. But what is home? For me, it’s as much a primal, spiritual calling as a pragmatic emotional one. The people I love most are in the Emirates, so that’s home. Then again, when I arrived in Lebanon I knew next to nobody and felt instantly at home.

How do your Middle Eastern roots come up in your culinary expression?

Alas, I don’t have any stories of learning to cook at my Situ’s side. I wish I did. She was a magnificent cook, and when she died, her recipes went with her. It was like the warm hearth of the family suddenly went dark, though there’s a strong lineage of cooks in my mother’s family, and we all love to eat.

I believe we’re shaped by our longings as much as our experiences; as a chef, I’d love an arsenal of family recipes that reflect my roots, but the reality with oral traditions is that sometimes you have to make adjustments or start from scratch- and that process can be just as meaningful.

I developed a decent palate and good technique while working my way through Clifford Wright’s book “A Mediterranean Feast: The Story of the Birth of the Celebrated Cuisines of the Mediterranean from the Merchants of Venice to the Barbary Corsairs.” Once you have a solid foundation, you have the skills and confidence to experiment, and that’s where personal style enters the scene. In my case, that means playing with flavors I love that are integral to Arabic food; pomegranate, saffron, figs, rosewater, mint, almonds, and then incorporating local, seasonal foods from the Farmer’s Market. The landscape here allows for amazing tomatoes and eggplants, apricots and lamb, just like Lebanon, but also regional specialties like green chile, grass-fed beef, corn and fresh goat’s cheese.

What do you hope to accomplish on your upcoming trip to Lebanon?

I never said a proper goodbye to Lebanon because I left so abruptly in 2005, so above all, this trip is about love. Batroun captured my heart. I miss the Arab world. When Obama won the presidential race, I felt so proud of Americans but also optimistic about the hope that lies ahead for Arabs. I believe one should serve the community wherever one lives, so hopefully Kamal can put me to work.

If you want insight into a culture’s psyche, look at how they eat; nobody in the Middle East does bold, fresh, bright flavors with more panache or joie de vivre than the Lebanese. I also love the fact that Lebanese women and men really take pride in their work, in using their hands, and in their culinary heritage. It’s a beautiful thing.

You’ve traveled all over the world in search of delicious food. Do you have a favorite eating experience?

No way! That’s like choosing a favorite color or musical symphony or constellation in the sky. My most stimulating restaurant experience was at a restaurant called Okariba in Kyoto, where the chef hunts for and prepares all his own food, including bear and insect larvae. My favorite fine-dining experience was at Manresa in Los Gatos, CA, where I enjoyed 21 courses of pure poetry on a midsummer night a few years ago. But the most glorious eating experiences always involve the quelling of the cravings of the soul as well, so those would include cold leftovers eaten with my sisters at 3am, a hot, juicy reindeer hot dog on an grassy Alaskan hillside after a month without hot food, and the generous kitchen efforts, however modest, of a loved one. When we’re happy, our senses are heightened.  I’ve eaten some mediocre things at my happiest and found them transformed by the expression of love.

Last but not least, what’s in the handbag of a gustatorial renaissance woman?

I buy one new handbag every few years and am a big fan of recycling my old ones, but I can’t tolerate anything I have to tote around in my hands. Right now, I have a 2007 Cinnamon Balenciaga Besace messenger. It carries a green Bottega Veneta wallet, a Panasonic Lumix DMC-TZ3 camera for photographing food, a plain tube of Lip Schtick lip balm which I love because it doesn’t interfere with what I’m tasting, a black pen, a black Moleskin notebook, a cell phone that is mostly switched off, dental floss, keys, licorice Altoids, a few hemp sacks for impromptu grocery stops, and a small Peugeot pepper mill. No frills, no spills – just how I like it, but no thrills either, I know.

Illustration by Gabriela Mo

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