Dov Avnon chef/founder

Tel: 06-53625525

The story of Savta

savta means grandmother/grandmother in Hebrew

The story of the Savta delicacy begins somewhere in southern Moldova, where my mother, Naomi Chulin, was born in 1919. Eggplant, red bell peppers, and lots of garlic always take me home, to Israel, to a simple kitchen where time seemed to pass more slowly.

My mother stood there, in her characteristic silence, dicing the eggplants. Without recipes or measurements, guided by experience and feeling, she privately blended various herbs to create a flavor that would remain etched in her memory. Years later, I gave this delicacy a name: Savta (in Hebrew, Oma/Grandmother).

My mother simply called it "Indian-flavored eggplant." Under the family name Savta, I later added a few more variations, all originating from the same source.

Savta, in a nutshell, is eggplant, red bell pepper, and lots of garlic, combined in a single spice blend. This is how the delicacy "Savta Eggplant with Indian Flavor" was born.

Over the years, Savta Red Pepper, an Indian-flavored eggplant and red pepper puree, followed. Savta Garlic and Savta Chili. They all belong to the same family and leave behind the same familiar flavor. The taste of home. The taste of Savta.

For years, my mother arranged for jars of Indian-flavored eggplant to be shipped from Israel to the Netherlands. I remember her once saying, almost casually, "Maybe you'll sell this someday."

Afterward, she carefully and orderly wrote down for me how to prepare the delicacy. My mother died in 2000. In the last years of her life, it became increasingly difficult for her to prepare the Indian-flavored eggplant for me. Over time, the product faded into the background, but the flavor never disappeared.

Taste is something you never forget. Taste is a memory of days gone by that will never return. Memories of a mother who spent hours in the kitchen preparing Indian-style eggplant.

In 2014, a Malaysian passenger plane was shot down over Ukraine. Flight MH17 departed from Amsterdam for Melbourne and never reached its destination. On board was Itamar, our son, on his way back to university in Melbourne, where he was studying business administration. After Itamar's death—murdered, as we call it—came a day when I walked into the kitchen while my wife, Jeannet, wasn't home. I grabbed the notes my mother had left me and tried to make Indian-style eggplant again.

After many attempts, I rediscovered the flavor. Not exactly, but close enough to know: this is it. So I started making and selling Indian-flavored eggplant here and there. I called the product Savta. In memory of Itamar, who dreamed of a successful future in business, we founded a company called the "Itamar Cooking Company."

Itamar couldn't cook, but he loved good food. Food like Grandmother Naomi used to make in Israel.