FOR YEARS, I’VE BEEN CHASING an elusive concept in Arab cooking called “nafas.”

Nafas means cooking from the soul, and it’s the highest praise you can give an Arab home cook. The word has no equivalent English translation. To paraphrase Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart, you know it when you taste it.

I tasted it recently at a dinner called Cook with … a Refugee, the latest in a series of hands-on cooking demos held at an art studio in the Lake Hills neighborhood of Bellevue.

Started in 2023, the series has featured home cooks from Egypt, Syria and other Arab nations making their family recipes, such as the Iraqi chicken dish Quzi and the Lebanese seafood staple samke harra. These refugees and immigrants prepare obscure or traditional foods and share the dinner tables with Americans who want to learn about dishes not often served in local shawarma shops.

The project is run by Koloud “Kay” Tarapolsi, a Libyan American artist whose A Crafty Arab platform also includes a variety of art programs that explore Arab and Muslim culture. Tarapolsi recruits the chefs for Cook … with a Refugee, and each installment shows students how to cook snacks, desserts or a full dinner from an Arab country.

“The mainstream, the only (Arabic) food they know are falafel and shawarma. But my goodness, there are so many more dishes than that,” she says.

Her goal is to run cooking demos from all 22 Arab countries. She’s up to 10 so far. (Her white whale: Oman. She hasn’t yet found any local Omanis who could introduce her to a home cook from that southeastern Arabian Peninsula in West Asia.)

Tarapolsi’s classes deviate from a typical cooking seminar at a gourmet shop. Some instructors don’t use measuring cups or recipes. Most have never worked in a restaurant. Some speak little English, so Tarapolsi translates for the class.

Rather than devise a highly scripted lesson, Tarapolsi prefers a casual atmosphere where participants chop onions and ask questions. That’s how many Arab sons and daughters learn to cook, she says. “I want them to sit down in a small gathering and share stories through the food and the spices.”

She also wants Americans to experience “nafas” since the concept can be hard for Westerners to grasp.

Not so much a physical skill, nafas is more visceral and spiritual. It’s about home cooks putting their heart and sweat into making a dish that also imparts a bit of their own personality or story. Nafas creates warmth and authenticity, and makes for a more compelling and complete meal.

“It is a very important part of Arabic cuisine. That is how you compliment someone: ‘Your food has a lot of nafas,’” Tarapolsi said. “It’s the way we speak about food.”

At a recent class, my instructor was Nadia Eissa, a Moroccan who moved to Bellevue from Casablanca 17 years ago. Eissa didn’t want to lead a cooking class about tagine, the North African stew served out of a cone-like clay pot that’s synonymous with Moroccan cooking for many Americans.

That’s too obvious and predictable, Eissa told me two days before her class.

“I’m going to do something special (that) I guarantee you most Americans have never had: Seffa Medfouna. It’s a dish my mother and aunt make for weddings and special occasions.”

When Eissa gave Tarapolsi the grocery list for this celebratory dish, Tarapolsi told her, “I’ve been to Morocco four times, and I’ve never had it or seen it served in any restaurant.”

Eissa told me the class would be a learning experience for her as well as her students — because she learned to cook just by sitting in the kitchen with her mom, chatting about the banality of everyday life while watching her mother prepare a meal.

The night before she met her students, Eissa marinated the chicken thighs and legs. In front of the class the next day, she had to remind herself to grab the tablespoon instead of just eyeballing the spices.

This was all new to her. “In Morocco, we have a saying, ‘Einek Meezanek’ — your eyes are your balance, your measurement.’ I don’t have recipes. This is my nafas. This is how I cook.”

Eissa’s chicken was slow cooked with garlic and onions for hours. The dark meat was then deboned and buried under vermicelli noodles that had been steamed and fluffed four times. Sweet and salty, the buttery-rich dish was garnished with dates coated in sesame seeds and toasted almonds stuffed in apricot.

The dish resembles a chicken soup reimagined as a casserole, with piquant Moroccan spices like cinnamon, turmeric and ginger.

One participant, Cindy Forrest, has attended eight Arab cooking classes. “I’m not just full, but I feel fulfilled because I’m immersed in another culture,” the Redmond resident says. “I mean, you can’t get this in a restaurant. That’s why this is so special.”