There are two surefire ways to make an audience go “awww” — prominently feature a puppy or food. As its title indicates, “Food and Fadwa” picked option B.
In a series of mock cooking-show segments, Fadwa (Lameece Issaq) discusses the art of chopping parsley and the glory of good olive oil. She makes baba ghanoush in her fully functioning stage kitchen. Also tabbouli and a breakfast dish called mana’eesh, which is “like a warm bath and a fireplace and a hug all rolled into one savory, delicious bite.”
Unfortunately, we don’t get to taste any of it, and the family drama around those scenes plays like a stilted hybrid of sitcom and soap opera. There’s even a catfight.
By now, you may have guessed that “Food and Fadwa” is set in a Middle Eastern family. Co-written by Issaq and Jacob Kader, the play follows the tragicomic adventures of Palestinian relatives in Bethlehem as they gear up for the wedding of Fadwa’s coquettish younger sister, Dalal (Maha Chehlaoui), with the smart-alecky Emir (Arian Moayed, the Iraqi gardener from “Bengal Tiger at the Baghdad Zoo”).
As if this weren’t stressful enough, the preparations are hampered by the daily indignities of West Bank life — checkpoints, curfews — and the unexpected visit of cousin Hayat (Heather Raffo), who lives in the US.
Hayat has become a cookbook author and Food Network celebrity by tricking up old family recipes. A cartoon in wedge heels, this city mouse casually puts down her plainer country relation.
We’re meant to sympathize with Fadwa, but she comes across as a joyless pill, wrapping herself in the sacrifices she’s made for her sister and their Alzheimer’s-afflicted father (Laith Nakli).
There’s a place for customs, but while Fadwa and her cooking are pure at heart, they’re also paralyzed by tradition, and unable to evolve.
Throughout, the outside world impacts the wedding’s planning — Emir is unable to return home for several days. But the show is more interested in family dynamics than political messages. Nothing wrong with that approach, and some details, including one character’s obsession with “Arab Idol,” are funny.
Still, the play suffers from broad characterizations and limp sentimentality. By the end, you’re not even hungry anymore.