The last act was to unmold the maqlubeh, no mean feat since the pot is hot and heavy. Using kitchen towels, Kassis placed the platter on top of the pot, then, with a sure hand, flipped them over and lifted the pot off. She then jiggled the platter so the mound of rice started to crack open, revealing the meat and vegetables hidden inside. Lighter than I would have imagined, the spices, rice, meat and eggplant make this a classic feast dish, the mix of ingredients varied in both texture and flavor, and one that provides excellent leftovers.

I soon discovered that maqlubeh is a good ambassador for the Palestinian table. If you ask a resident of Tel Aviv about where to eat, they might mention their great Thai food. An Arab resident of Galilee is more likely to offer tradition. That may be because Tel Aviv imports many of its ingredients, whereas Palestinian food in Galilee still is intimately connected with the land. Olive oil is pressed using a machine that consists of two giant stone crushing wheels set in an ancient red container that looks like a washed-up dinghy. Grains are processed with a Rube Goldberg grinder/sorter. And taboon bread is baked in a rotating circular oven that has metal bumps on the surface to mimic the hot stones traditionally used.

And then, as we descend from the hills toward sunset, toward our hotel, the Sea of Galilee appears as a biblical still life, without sound or movement, the Golan Heights ebbing into the night across the water. Much like the landscape, a rocky desert punctuated by the rich greens of irrigated farmland, Palestinian food is enduring and hearty, yet more than able to deliver a culinary surprise without warning. A fragrant rose petal jam; maftool, a form of fregola that starts with a grain of bulgur inside; ka’ak asfar, a sweet turmeric-colored bread with ground nigella and sesame seeds; or a simple pairing of bitter greens and grains. It is a cuisine of abundance in a land where ingredients are hard-won, scratched from an unforgiving landscape that has endured from the dawn of history.

Back at Milk Street, we had our work cut out for us to streamline this dish. We wanted a smaller recipe using chicken, not lamb, and less pre-­cooking; we also hoped we could avoid frying the eggplant. We started by soaking the rice while we sautéed bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs, then set them aside. We then put a round of kitchen parchment on the bottom of the pot to make the finished dish easier to unmold. We added oil and almonds, then a cup of the rice. The remaining rice was mixed with spices, garlic and cauliflower florets. Most of this was layered into the pot, followed by a layer of chicken, then slices of eggplant (raw, not fried) and a final thin layer of the seasoned rice followed by broth.

We cooked the mixture on the stovetop for about 40 minutes, then let it rest for 15 minutes off the heat before unmolding. For the less adventurous, the dish can be served directly from the pot without flipping to invert it onto a platter. Now we had a family-, not feast-sized, version of maqlubeh, one that could be assembled quickly while maintaining the original flavors and traditions of Galilee.