Nothing says Arabic food like Arabic bread. A meal is never ever complete without it! But unlike the arabic bread that we find in Sydney that is flat and soft, the bread that I found in Jerusalem was thick and rough, burnished over an open flame. As a kid I remember emergency calls from my Teta to my Mum, begging her to pick up 10 bags of arabic bread on our way to Teta’s house. Bread in my grandparents household was some what a security blanket. It was something that took my grandparents back to when they were young and living in Palestine. It made them remember coming home to steaming hot bread, fresh out of their mothers wood-fired ovens that immediately satisfied.