Palestinian Food 101: Recipes to Get You Started

An introductory resource for cooking Palestinian food at home.

Gif of Palestinian dishes
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

I spent my childhood years among three tables: my family's kitchen table in Jerusalem, and each of my two grandmothers' tables, one in a village in the north of Palestine and the other in a village closer to the center. The food—even the religion, dialects, and conversations—I experienced at each was different. Everything was delicious, prepared with love, and referred to as “our food.” To this day, I’m still trying to recreate those flavors from memory. But not once while living at home did I really mull on the idea of these foods collectively making up a Palestinian cuisine. It was only when I left home at 17 to start college in the States that I began to grasp the undeniable connection of food to national identity, and the intricacies associated with defining it.

Many years, countries, degrees, children, and a career switch later, I am starting to understand why, as elusive as the notion of a national cuisine may be, it’s still an absolutely vital one. This importance becomes even more pronounced when one is away from their homeland, as many of us here in the US are, and especially when the national identity and connection to that homeland is threatened, as it is for most Palestinians.

Palestinians: A Primer on the People That Call This Cuisine Their Own

As of 2019 there were an estimated 13.3 million Palestinians in the world, 5.3 million of which are refugees. Two of the largest concentrations of these refugees outside the Arab world are in Chile and the US. It’s been almost 75 years—three quarters of a century—since our original displacement during the 1948 War, and many Palestinian descendants still have never set foot in our homeland. Some may no longer be familiar with the language, customs, music, and traditions, but if there is one thing that has survived decades of expatriation, it is our food. Many Palestinians I know who cannot speak a word of Arabic can name every dish on a Palestinian sofra (a table laden with food), and their dining tables regularly include many of the classic dishes, from maqlubeh and dawali to hashweh and the quintessential zeit (olive oil) and za’atar

After years of writing and working to preserve these dishes and their history for future generations, and after countless conversations with Palestinians across the globe, I have come to a quiet but powerful realization: There is no singular Palestinian cuisine. Palestinian food spans our entire geography, from the mountains of the Galilee to the valleys of the south, from the coast of Yaffa all the way to the West Bank. It is scattered across the globe and built from memories of a time when most of us lived on the same land. It is the grains of freekeh and ever-present bowl of za’atar as much as the connection these dishes provide to a nation out of reach. 

So when I was tasked with selecting a collection of essential recipes to introduce Palestinian cuisine, I balked. How do you pack such a rich and diverse history into so few dishes? What’s more, many of the dishes we consider definitive or important to our cuisine—like hummus, falafel, tabouleh, and kubbeh—are shared across the countries of the Levant. So how do I choose these dishes, let alone define a national cuisine? 

What Is National Cuisine?

In the context of history, all cuisine is a byproduct of evolution and diffusion and predates the modern nation-state. Think of the Italian tomato, which only made its way to Europe in the 16th century, or the ubiquitous chiles used in Thai and Indian cuisines that arrived in the New World just a few centuries ago. Culinary integration has been visible throughout—and essential to—our history. An honest account of any cuisine admits and celebrates the positive angles of this history, recognizing that no food culture is stagnant, but rather a dynamic force that changes through circumstance, integrates with others, and evolves with the times. This, however, doesn’t negate the fact that some dishes have come to be made a specific way by certain people or that some foods carry significance for national groups.

Finished Qidreh topped with almonds in a dutch oven
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Yet even those dishes can generate much debate depending on the region, town, or family you come from. I have witnessed arguments so heated you would think they were about bringing peace to the Middle East, only to realize it was two cooks discussing the right way to prepare a certain dish. Is mlukhiyeh made with whole jute mallow leaf or ground? Can mansaf be made with chicken or only lamb? Does adding chickpeas or garlic to qidreh make it inauthentic? Can you include tomato paste when cooking grape leaves, or should you just use lemon? Which of the 1001 ways to make maqlubeh is the right one? And let’s not get started with the spices for each of these dishes.

An Intro to Palestinian Cooking: Why These Particular Dishes?

Choosing a small number of dishes to capture a cuisine may be a useful primer into that culture, but it’s an incomplete one at best. Choosing one dish means you’ve omitted another, and missing entirely from this list are the desserts, drinks, spreads, and countless salads and stews that adorn Palestinian tables across the globe. But there are specific reasons why I chose these dishes to introduce this rich cuisine: They all tell a story.

Though the ascent of the nation-state in the late 18th and 19th century gave rise to the idea of national cuisines, food at its core remains deeply regional; at times, cuisine is more closely tied to more local landscapes, as well as broader categories of language and religion, than it is to a nationality. Looking at Palestine, for example, we see that northern towns in the Galilee might share more dishes—such as kubbeh niyeh, a tartare of raw lamb and fine bulgur—with neighboring villages in Lebanon and Syria than with southern Palestinian areas such as Gaza. 

Given our intertwined history and centuries-long acculturation under Islamic and Arab rule, it comes as no surprise that we share many dishes across all the countries of the Levant. Yakhneh is a primary example: The stew is always vegetable based, with meat having a supporting role, and most often features a tomato broth. It’s the staple dish that most Lebanese people, Syrians, Jordanians, and Palestinians eat with vermicelli rice on a weekly, if not daily, basis. This genre of dishes that span multiple national cuisines—also including hummus, falafel, and tabouleh—is glaringly missing from this introduction to Palestinian cuisine. This is not because these dishes aren’t popular in or significant to Palestinian cuisine, but because we wanted to share meals that set Palestinian cuisine apart. (That said, this doesn't mean that all of the recipes included here are completely exclusive to Palestinian cooking, only that they're more tightly encompassed by it.) 

20210119-ancient-bagel-daniel-gritzer-31
Daniel Gritzer

After much research, I chose recipes that represent the breadth of dishes across our geography and traditions. You’ll find qidreh from Hebron, hashweh from the Galilee, and msakhan from the center and the West Bank, as well as foods that speak to a history that many in the West may not be familiar with. Above all, I wanted to select dishes that gave a glimpse into what it really means to be Palestinian and what sets our cuisine apart from others in the Levant. 

You’ll notice the majority of these dishes are mains made for sharing, and oftentimes are labor-intensive. These foods are enjoyed across the country (even if prepared differently based on the exact locale) and are often reserved for special occasions and gatherings. Though if you think of the average Palestinian family with several generations living under the same roof—or within very close proximity to each other—each mealtime is a gathering of sorts anyway.

How We Eat and Assemble a Meal

Many people associate the cooking of the Arab world with mezze and grilled meats because it’s what they have become accustomed to eating in restaurants. But the day-to-day meals Palestinian families enjoy are quite far-removed from these restaurant dishes.

Yes, there are many dips, spreads, and salads in the Palestinian culinary repertoire, and no wedding or celebratory table is considered complete without the presence of these plates. But the average weeknight dinner table consists of one main (usually a stew, stuffed vegetable, or grain-based dish) and possibly a salad or yogurt on the side. Bread and a plate of olives are also generally non-negotiable. This way of eating allows one to eat across all food groups: vegetables and grains take center stage, while meat plays a supporting role.

Za'tar in a small bowl next to a piece of pita and a small shallow bowl of olive oil
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

At larger gatherings, however, the dynamic changes and you will find more options on the table. There is always at least one show-stopping main dish to anchor the table and signal respect to guests, but you will often find several of these larger dishes alongside a selection of salads and spreads. Bread is ever-present and used just as much as a utensil to scoop up food as it is enjoyed on its own.

As a whole, a Palestinian meal usually strikes a fine balance of flavors, textures, and spices, regardless of the occasion and the exact dishes chosen. Maqlubeh and hashweh, for example, are both almost always dotted with fried nuts and served alongside fresh yogurt and Palestinian salad. Kafta is frequently served alongside rice and pickles. Even msakhan, a dish that, like mansaf, was traditionally served on its own with no accompaniments, still sees a table dotted with olives, radishes, pickles, possibly even yogurt. These dishes are all served family-style with the intent of sharing and eating together.

Msakhan
Serious Eats / Vicky Wasik

What ties all Palestinian tables together is more than just good food or specific dishes: It is the notion of “home,” the spirit of generosity, the importance of family, and the value of bringing people together. If there is one thing the following dishes introducing you to Palestinian cuisine can help you understand, it is precisely that.

The Recipes

Za'atar (Middle Eastern Herb Blend)

Small bowl of Za'tar next to a piece of pita, a small bowl of olive oil, and a rectangular bowl of vegetables
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

No Palestinian table is complete without za'atar, which is often eaten with bread dipped in olive oil. It can be used in a number of ways: as a topping for manaqeesh (a type of flatbread), mixed into yogurt or labaneh, or even as a seasoning for meat and chicken marinades. The spice blend consists of toasted sesame seeds, dried za'atar leaves (though you can also use dried oregano, marjoram, or thyme), sumac, and a little bit of salt.

Taboon (Flatbread)

Stacked taboon breads.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Though taboon is the name given to the clay ovens used by Palestinians, it also refers to this flatbread. It's soft, tender, and dimpled from being cooked on stones. And unlike pita bread, taboon doesn't open up to become a pocket, but is instead sturdier, allowing it to support a heavier load of toppings. It's used as the main component of msakhan, but can also be used to scoop up anything from labaneh and hummus to stews and braises. When topped with olive oil and za'atar and heated in the oven, taboon becomes a crispy manaqeesh.

Ka'ak al Quds (Jerusalem Sesame Bread)

Overhead view of ka'ak al quds
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

I've written before about how ka'ak is likely the precursor to the modern day bagel. The oblong sesame breads are synonymous with Jerusalem (after all, "ka'ak al Quds" translates to "Jerusalem ka'ak"), and most Palestinians agree that the ka'ak made in Jerusalem taste better than those made anywhere else in the country. While there are many breads today that are similar, from from Turkish simit to Polish obwarzanki, ka'ak al Quds is distinguished by both its flavor—which comes from being baked in centuries-old ovens heated with olive wood—and its shape. This recipe may not taste exactly like the ones made in Jerusalem, but their crispy exteriors and fluffy interiors make an excellent placeholder to eat alongside za'atar, falafel, or eggs.

Salata Falahiyeh (Farmers Salad)

Overhead shot of Salata falahiyeh in a patterned blue bowl with crisp pita
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

So many cultures, from Mediterranean and Balkan to Central and South Asian, have some version of a salad made from cucumber and tomato. The Palestinian iteration features finely diced tomato and cucumber cubes no larger than a dry chickpea; mint—fresh or dry—is commonly incorporated, and occasionally a sprinkling of parsley; and onions are a must. The dressing is nothing more than olive oil, fresh lemon juice, and salt. And while my recipe includes measurements and weights for those who want it, this is a salad that can—and should—be adjusted to your tastes.

Maqlubeh ("Upside Down" Meat, Vegetables, and Rice)

Maqlubeh plated on a white dish with a bowl of sauce and a small salad next to it
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Maqlubeh or maqlubah, which simply means "flipped over," is traditionally made by boiling either lamb or chicken, frying one or more vegetables (historically just eggplants), then layering the meat, rice, and vegetables in a stew pot and cooking it with some stock. Today, there are countless variations, but all of them result in a dish that's flipped over to reveal a complete and festive meal. It's a dish that can serve as a celebratory meal or a weekly family one, and is often accompanied by fried slivered almonds, yogurt, and chopped Palestinian salad.

Hashweh (Spiced Rice and Meat)

Finished hashweh served on a large ovular platter.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Hashweh simply means "stuffing," and that’s what Palestinians call this dish even when it doesn't function as an actual stuffing. While stuffed dishes are often reserved for guests and special occasions, the stuffing itself is more commonly served as a meal in its own right. It consists of simple ingredients, which means the quality of those ingredients are especially important. While it's possible to make this meal using ready-ground beef and store-bought broth, hand-diced meat and homemade broth is preferred. These small details will ensure a superior flavor and texture that complement the spices in the dish.

Dawali (Stuffed Grape Leaves)

Overhead view of finished dawali
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

While dawali is one of our most common meals, it's primarily a celebratory one. The one-pot dish consists of grape leaves stuffed with a mixture of rice, spices, and meat, which is then placed on top of lamb ribs (though other cuts of meat can also be used), cooked on a stovetop and flipped over for a beautiful presentation when serving. The process of preparing this dish is time consuming, but well worth it for the results, and something to get the whole family involved in.

Kafta bi Bandora (Ground Meat Patties in Tomato Sauce)

Overhead view of kafta in baking dish next to a bowl of rice.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

A mixture of minced meat and spices, kafta can be found in many iterations across the Middle East, South Asia, and parts of Europe. In the Palestinian kitchen, it's usually made with minced lamb, but it can also be made with beef, goat, or any combination thereof. Some common mix-ins include onions, garlic, parsley, spices, nuts, and other herbs—every family has their own version. It can be shaped into sausages or patties, baked or grilled, served with rice, potatoes, or bread, or all three...the possibilities are endless.

Qidreh (Bone-In Lamb With Spiced Rice)

Overhead view of Qidreh with a side plate of yogurt
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Qidreh is the hallmark dish of the Palestinian city of Hebron, and one that's commonly served during the month of Ramadan, as well as weddings, funerals, and special occasions. It's consists of tender bone-in lamb atop fragrant spiced rice, and is almost always served with a side of plain yogurt and chopped Palestinian salad. It primarily gets its flavor from the neighborhood wood-fired oven where, in Hebron, it's sent to finish cooking. Without that oven, it's hard to impart the same aroma, so here I've added ingredients other cities have been known to include like chickpeas and whole garlic cloves.

Maftool (Wheat Pearls in a Vegetable, Chickpea, and Chicken Stew)

Finished bowl of maftool
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

A distinctively Palestinian dish, maftool are caviar-sized pearls made of whole wheat. The most traditional way to serve maftool is with a brothy stew that includes onions, chickpeas, and chicken, and frequently seasoned with caraway. It can be common to include butternut squash or pumpkin cubes; some people add tomato paste to the broth, while others cook the pearls directly in a tomato broth and serve it up similar to a risotto. Homemade maftool takes time, patience, and practice, but you can purchase dried maftool to make the process easier.

Mansaf (Spiced Lamb With Rice and Yogurt Sauce)

Manasf on green marbled top
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Mansaf is not only known as the quintessential dish of the Bedouins—the nomadic Arab people that live across the Middle East and North Africa—but is also considered one of the national dishes of both Jordan and Palestine. Today's preparation of the dish has evolved from its original, exclusively using jameed to make the sauce and baste the flatbread in, before including rice or bulgur on top of the bread. As for the meat, either lamb or goat is nestled on top and scattered with toasted nuts, and the remaining yogurt is usually served on the side.

Msakhan (Flatbreads With Onion, Sumac, and Spiced Roast Chicken)

Plated msakhan.
Serious Eats / Vicky Wasik

A celebrated and essential meal to the cuisine, many refer to msakhan as the national dish of Palestine, although there are probably three or four more dishes vying for the title. It's made by slowly cooking down onions with tart sumac, which gives them their notorious purple hue and balances out the sweetness of the onions, before adding taboon and topping with crispy chicken and pine nuts. The dish offers a satisfying contrast of textures and flavors made with very simple ingredients.

Ka’ak al Quds

A sesame seed crusted exterior gives way to a sweet fluffy interior in these hallmark ka’ak breads synonymous with Jerusalem.

Overhead view of ka'ak al quds
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Whether based in bias or fact, all Palestinians agree that the ka'ak made in Jerusalem taste better than those made anywhere else in the country. In fact, the full name of these beloved oblong sesame breads is “ka’ak al Quds,” which means "Jerusalem Ka’ak.” Some will say it’s the old traditional wood-fired ovens, others will argue it’s the yeast in the walls and atmosphere that has been there for generations. For others still, it’s the aura of Old City, where they are baked daily and a ubiquitous part of the area's history and culture, past and present. Men push their ka’ak-laden wooden carts through the streets shouting, “Kaaaaaaa’aaaaaak,” and everyone, from school children to workers to shop owners and even tourists, gathers round to pay the trivial price for these delicious and filling breads. Whatever it is, ka'ak al Quds does seem to taste different in Jerusalem.  

The history of these breads dates back to the Middle Ages, when they were so popular in Arab cuisine that medieval cookbooks did not deign it necessary to even include a basic recipe for them, instead only including variations. Originally they were more akin to a cracker than an actual bread, but they have evolved over time into countless variations and traversed the globe. As I wrote in an earlier piece here, it is very likely that ka’ak was the precursor to the modern day bagel as well. 

Overhead view of ka'ak al quds
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Today there are so many breads similar to ka’ak al Quds across the world, from Turkish simit to Polish obwarzanki, many of which are likely descendants of ka'ak. What distinguishes the variety sold in Jerusalem is not only the distinctive flavor, largely thanks to being baked in centuries-old ovens heated with olive wood, but also the shape. It is an oblong ring usually more than a foot long, with a thin crispy crust and light airy interior. They are sold from carts and from neighborhood ovens, and their only downside—one common to many breads—is that they are best enjoyed soon after baking. Still, leftovers can be frozen and reheated in an oven for a close enough approximation.

At their most simple, ka’ak are sold wrapped in newspaper scraps with some za’atar alongside to dip into. For a more filling meal, one can purchase falafel or hay-baked eggs from the same cart vendors. For me, my entire childhood in Jerusalem is dotted with memories of these delicious breads. I won’t claim the recipe here will taste the same as the ones sold on the streets of Jerusalem, but they are a fantastic placeholder until one finally visits the Old City.

For the Dough: In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook, combine bread flour, sugar, salt, yeast, baking powder, and milk and mix at medium speed until a smooth and elastic dough forms. Alternatively, mix the dough ingredients in a large bowl, kneading by hand until a smooth and elastic dough forms.

Two image collage of overhead view of dough before and after being mixed
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Rub the dough all over with just enough olive oil to very lightly coat, cover the bowl with a damp kitchen towel or plastic wrap, and set aside to rise in a warm location until almost doubled in size, about 1 hour.

Dough in a metal bowl covered with plastic wrap
Serious Eats / Maureen Celestine

To Form and Bake: Meanwhile, in a large shallow tray such as a rimmed quarter sheet pan, stir together the sesame seeds and grape molasses, gradually adding water 1 tablespoon (15ml) at a time until just thinned enough not to cause the seeds to clump (about 2 to 4 tablespoons in total). Set aside.

Overhead view of sesame seeds in molasses
Serious Eats / Maureen Celestine

Gently punch down risen dough, then divide into 6 equal portions and place on a lightly floured work surface. Loosely cover again with the plastic wrap or kitchen towel and let rest 15 minutes.

Dough divided into 6 sections
Serious Eats / Maureen Celestine

Preheat oven to 450°F (220°C) and line two rimmed baking sheets with parchment paper. Working with one dough portion at a time, roll and stretch dough into logs about 12 inches long (30cm), then pinch the ends together to form rings; arrange formed rings on lightly-floured work surface. Cover once more with plastic wrap or clean kitchen towels and let rest 30 minutes.

Two image collage of 6 sectioned and then rolled into a circle
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Working with one dough ring at a time and continuously holding the pinched ends together, gently stretch the ring between your palms until it forms an elongated oval ring about 8 inches (20cm) long and 5 inches (12cm) wide (measuring from the outer edges). If you struggle getting the ends to remain attached, dampen your hands and sprinkle some flour just near the attached ends as you continue to shape and stretch it.

Overhead view of formed circle of dough
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Press each ring in the sesame mixture, turning to coat both sides, then transfer 3 rings to each baking sheet and let rest for 10 minutes.

Overhead view of dough being placed in sesame seeds
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Working with one sheet of dough rings at a time, bake until golden brown, 15 to 18 minutes. Transfer ka'ak to a wire rack to cool slightly. Repeat with remaining baking sheet of dough rings. Serve ka'ak warm.

Overhead view of 3 cooked ka'ak al quds
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Special Equipment

Stand mixer with dough hook attachment, rimmed baking sheets

Notes

These breads are normally dipped in a simple water-and-sesame mixture, which helps the sesame seeds stick to the dough. The high temperature of traditional wood ovens then gives the breads their famous dark golden brown color. The best way to achieve this in a standard home oven is to use a mixture of water, sesame seeds, and some kind of molasses. Grape molasses is the most traditional, but if you do not have it at home, you can easily substitute it with maple syrup or honey. 

Make-Ahead and Storage

The baked ka’ak al quds can be frozen in zipper-lock bags for up to 1 month; reheat in a moderate oven before eating.

Mansaf

The quintessential dish of Bedouins, featuring lightly spiced lamb, fluffy rice, and a tangy jameed-based yogurt sauce, all piled on top of torn flatbread.

Manasf on green marbled top
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Mansaf is the quintessential dish of Bedouins, the nomadic Arab people that live across the Middle East and North Africa. While many have abandoned the nomadic lifestyle in favor of a more modern one, some parts of their traditions remain intact, and elements of their cuisine have entered the mainstream culture of the areas they inhabit. Mansaf and jameed, the dried yogurt that gives the dish its signature flavor, are primary examples. Today, this dish is considered one of the national dishes of both Jordan and Palestine, two places where many Bedouins from the Arabian Peninsula emigrated to.

Mansaf was originally lamb cooked in a yogurt-based broth and then served over bread. Versions of it can be found in the oldest Arabic cookbooks on record from the 10th century. Originally, the kind of yogurt varied by season: If mansaf was cooked in the spring, they would use fresh yogurt, but in other seasons yogurt that had been dried to preserve it would be used. Today, though, mansaf's distinct taste comes exclusively from jameed, the dried yogurt used to make the sauce.

Mansaf later evolved to include rice or bulgur on top of the bread, with those grains varying by region to this day. Today, the platter is first layered with flatbread that is basted with the jameed-based yogurt sauce. Rice is then scattered on top and basted with more sauce. Finally, meat (usually lamb, sometimes goat) is nestled on top and scattered with toasted nuts. It is very common to serve the remaining yogurt on the side for people to pour more over their individual plates, or even to sip it straight out of a cup like soup.

Jameed's origin, like many milk products we enjoy today, is a result of the effort to preserve dairy from one season to the next. Jameed was usually prepared in the spring when fresh milk was plentiful. The milk would be soured into yogurt then churned to separate the butter from the buttermilk. The buttermilk would be heated until it curdled, and those solids would be strained, salted, and left out to air-dry. Afterwards, they would be shaped into conic balls and left out to dry for two to three weeks in the sun, at which point they could last for months, even years.

Today, with refrigeration and the year-round availability of fresh dairy products, it might seem counterintuitive to still rely on dried dairy in this dish. Why not just use yogurt instead, as was the case centuries ago when the seasons allowed it? The answer is, very simply, because jameed's flavor has become synonymous with mansaf itself. Just as we still eat cheese even if its primary purpose isn't to stretch the edible window of milk, jameed offers a unique flavor otherwise unattainable—strongly savory and tart, with the underlying aromas of goat or sheep milk. Fresh yogurt just doesn't taste the same.

As hard as a rock, jameed has to be reconstituted into yogurt by soaking it in water before cooking with it. Today, commercial jameed is available across the Arab world and even in certain Middle Eastern grocery stores in the West. The quality, however, varies drastically from one producer to the next and it remains an item not easy to source. What is more readily available, however, is an already-reconstituted liquid form sold in Tetra Paks, similar to UHT milk. (Alternatively, if you can find liquid Iranian kashk, it is an almost identical substitute.)

For the longest time, I refused to even consider those Tetra Paks of reconstituted jameed, turning into my grandmother or one of her friends at even the thought of it. After all, I have access to good jameed because my parents mail it to me, and I can even make it myself at home if I really had to. But in the interest of science (and with some gentle prodding by my editor after I initially balked at the suggestion), I bought a pack to try out. To my shock (and biased dismay), it wasn’t bad! Is it identical to the original version? No. It’s marginally saltier than a good homemade one, but it definitely hearkens back to jameed's flavor and will give you a more faithful, umami-rich result than attempting to make mansaf with fresh yogurt. 

Now, even reconstituted jameed can vary from brand to brand, so I can't recommend them all outright, but Kasih and Ziyad are recognized brands and even used by many in the Arab world. When using reconstituted jameed, you usually need to dilute it with a roughly equal amount (or a little more) of broth in the recipe, though the package instructions should be consulted. Still, I recommend always starting out with less broth, and then adding more as necessary to get the right flavor, which should be pleasantly salty and tangy, almost like a strong feta cheese.

As for presenting this dish, mansaf was traditionally served in giant platters more than two feet wide, around which people gathered and ate with their hands. Today, it is still traditional to serve it in very large platters, although each person will spoon a portion on a separate plate instead of eating it straight out of the communal dish.

For the Broth: In a large pot or Dutch oven, cover the lamb shanks with enough water to barely submerge. Set over medium-high heat and cook just until water comes to a boil and foam rises to the surface. Remove from heat, drain shanks, then wash with water to remove any foam clinging to them.

Two image collage of lamb shanks being cooked and washed
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Wash pot well, then return the shanks to it along with the onion, allspice, cardamom, cloves, bay leaves, cinnamon, and salt. Add enough water to cover all the ingredients by one inch. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to maintain a simmer and cook until shanks are very tender but not falling off the bone, 1 1/2 to 2 hours.

Two image collage of lamb shanks added back to the pot with spices to cook and then placed on a platter when finished
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Transfer shanks to a platter and keep warm. Strain broth, discarding solids; keep warm. Wash pot once more.

Lamb shanks on a platter next to strained broth
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Meanwhile, for the Yogurt Sauce: In a small saucepan, whisk together liquid jameed (or reconstituted jameed), yogurt, cornstarch, and 1/2 cup (118ml) water. Season with salt. Bring to a boil over medium heat, whisking constantly, then remove from heat (it is very important to whisk continuously to prevent curdling; if it does curdle, use a handheld immersion blender to bring it back together into a smooth sauce). The sauce should be relatively thick at this point, almost like a pureed vegetable soup.

Two image collage of overhead view of yogurt being cooked on the stove and then removed from heat
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

In a small skillet, heat olive oil and garlic over medium heat until garlic is fragrant and cooked through, but not at all browned, about 2 minutes. Pour the garlic and its oil into the yogurt and stir to combine. The sauce should be quite salty and sour, so add salt as needed.

Garlic and oil added to yogurt mixture
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

For the Rice: In a medium mixing bowl, rinse rice in several changes of cold water until water is almost clear, then cover rice with cold water and let soak for 15 minutes. Drain well.

Overhead view of cloudy rice water
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

In a large nonstick pot or Dutch oven, heat the butter and oil over high heat until butter is melted. Add rice, stirring to fully coat in the oil, then add 3 cups (710ml) water along with the salt and turmeric. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer and cook, uncovered, until most of the water has been absorbed, 2 to 5 minutes. Stir once, then carefully cover pot with a clean kitchen towel and cover tightly with the lid. Remove from heat and let stand 15 minutes.

Four image collage of rice being made
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

To Assemble and Serve: Pour 4 cups (1L) of the strained broth into the cleaned large pot or Dutch oven along with the yogurt sauce. Whisk to form a very smooth sauce (if it isn't smooth, use an immersion blender to smooth it out). The sauce should have a consistency somewhere between whole milk and half-and-half; if it's too thick, whisk in more broth 1/4 cup (15ml) at a time until proper consistency is reached. Season once more with salt, if necessary, bearing in mind the sauce should be very salty and tangy, almost like a very strong feta cheese.

Overhead view of pouring broth into yogurt
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Add the lamb shanks to the sauce and bring to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce heat to a simmer and cook until lamb is heated through and the sauce is thick enough to coat the shanks in a thickened and creamy glaze, about 15 minutes. If sauce is still too thin, continue simmering until the sauce reaches a heavy cream–like consistency. 

Lamb in yogurts sauce
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

To serve, tear up bread into large pieces and arrange on a large, round serving platter in a single, slightly overlapping layer. Pour enough yogurt sauce over the bread to soak through and soften. Fluff the rice, then spoon in a mound on top of the bread. Set shanks on top. Ladle more yogurt sauce all over until it has soaked through the rice and bread (you don't want the mansaf so wet that it begins to flow like soup, but you can be generous with the sauce). Sprinkle all over with the toasted almonds.

Two image collage of flatbread covered in yogurt then rice and lamb added on top
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Serve, passing more yogurt sauce at the table for diners to add to their plates.

Manasf on green marbled top
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Special Equipment

Large nonstick pot or Dutch oven

Notes

Flatbreads like shrak or markook, which can be found in some Middle Eastern markets, can vary quite a bit in terms of size, thickness, and shape; while they're often more than one foot in diameter, this is not always the case. If you can't find them, substitution options include very thin (pocketless) Lebanese pita or even, as my mother in law sometimes does, good quality flour tortillas. While it's less traditional, I sometimes skip the bread entirely and still love this dish. Because these breads can vary so much in size, the best way to know how much to use is to fully cover the surface of whatever serving platter you will be using with the torn pieces.

You can toast almonds in a dry stainless-steel skillet, tossing frequently; in a moderate oven, stirring occasionally; or in the microwave.

Make-Ahead and Storage

The strained lamb broth can be refrigerated for up to 2 days with the lamb shanks in it to keep them moist; remove any solidified fat on the surface before rewarming and separating shanks from broth.

If making this for your family and not for a large gathering, you can assemble individual plates and avoid preparing the large serving platter; this will make it easier to store and reheat leftovers.

Maftool

Caviar-sized pearls made of whole wheat served in a brothy stew with onions, chickpeas, butternut squash, and tender chicken.

Finished bowl of maftool
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Maftool, gorgeous caviar-sized pearls made of whole wheat, is one of the most distinctively Palestinian dishes you will come across. The word maftool simply means “rolled” in Arabic and refers to the way flour is rolled around small bulgur grains to arrive at these beautiful pearls. In northern Palestine, where my father is from, people tend to make the balls slightly larger and call them “moghrabieh” (literally: of the Maghreb) probably a reference to North African couscous, which is similarly prepared albeit substantially smaller.

In the center and south of Palestine, maftool are made as small as Ossetra caviar, so bigger than couscous but smaller than moghrabieh. They are normally cooked by steaming them over a boiling pot of broth, with dough used to seal the edge of the pot to fully trap steam and ensure the maftool cook evenly. In this recipe, I have settled on a combined simmer-and-steam method that is easier and quicker than steaming alone, but still gives you fluffy and separate grains. The key is to let the cooked maftool rest in the residual steam after all the liquid has been absorbed, much like a pot of rice. 

The most traditional way to serve maftool is with a brothy stew that includes onions, chickpeas, and chicken, and frequently seasoned with caraway. Not everyone uses caraway seeds to flavor the broth (it tastes perfectly delicious without it), but it is the signature spice of this dish for many Palestinians. In different parts of the country, like the one my mother is from, butternut squash or pumpkin cubes are a common component in the broth, their sweetness a perfect contrast to the otherwise earthy and warm notes of this dish. Some people add tomato paste to the broth, while others cook the pearls directly in a tomato broth and serve it up almost like a risotto. But the version with onion, chickpeas, and chicken is the gold standard.  

The stock used to both cook the maftool and act as the brothy stew is typically made by boiling chicken with spices and aromatics. The cooked chicken can then be shredded and served over the maftool with some of the broth ladled on top. I personally prefer to roast the chicken in the oven instead of just boiling it, because it adds another layer of flavor and texture to the dish.

Growing up, I used to watch my grandmother and her sisters preparing maftool. The lady preparing it would be seated on the floor with a giant bowl in her lap, a jug of water on the left and a bowl of flour on the right. She would start with some grains of bulgur in the bowl to which she would add flour and a sprinkling of water before starting to roll with her palms, a subtle dance that magically made beautiful pearls appear. A large flat strainer called a gherbal would then be used to separate the grains that had become the right size from the smaller ones which would return to the bowl where the dance continued. These pearls would then be steamed and dried to be stored for use throughout the year. Where refrigeration was common, the steamed pearls could be frozen after steaming without drying, for much quicker cooking later on.

It can take time, practice, and the right equipment to make good homemade maftool, so the best option for most, and what I'm instructing in this recipe, is to purchase dried maftool, available most Middle Eastern grocery stores as well as online (look for brands like Canaan and Les Moulins Mahjoub). But if for any reason you cannot access it, Italian fregola sarda, Moroccan giant/pearl couscous and even, in a pinch, bulgur alone can work as substitutes. While the springy texture and nutty flavor might not be exactly the same, it’ll be close enough to be very enjoyable. But it is worth the effort to seek out true maftool—nothing else will quite capture the way the pearls of maftool roll around in your mouth in between bites of sweet butternut and hearty chickpeas.

For the Spiced Chicken Stock: In a large pot or stockpot of boiling water, boil chicken for 2 minutes. Transfer chicken to a platter, discard water and wash and dry pot. Add olive oil to pot and heat over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add the onion, salt, caraway, cumin, allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, tomato paste, and bay leaf and stir until the onion starts to soften and the spices become fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add 2 quarts (1.9L) water along with the reserved chicken and bring to a boil, skimming any foam from the surface, then lower heat to maintain a simmer and cook until chicken is fully cooked but not falling apart, about 1 hour. Carefully remove the chicken, making sure to keep the pieces intact, and set skin side up on a rimmed baking sheet. Strain stock, discarding solids.

Four image collage of chicken being boiled in water, spices added to a clean pot, chicken and stock added to the pot, and stock being strained.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

For the Butternut Squash Broth: In a Dutch oven, heat olive oil over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add sliced onions and cook, stirring often, until softened and golden brown at the edges, about 5 minutes. Stir in butternut squash and cook, stirring frequently, for 2 minutes. Add the 1 quart (1L) spiced chicken stock along with the chickpeas, bring to a simmer, then continue to cook at a simmer until butternut squash is tender, about 20 minutes. Set aside and keep warm.

Two Image collage. Top: Butternut Squash mixed with onions and chickpeas. Bottom: butternut squash mixture cooking in stock
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Meanwhile, for the Maftool: In a 3- or 4-quart pot, heat the olive oil and butter over medium heat until butter is melted. Add the maftool and cook, stirring, until it smells lightly toasted but hasn't darkened in color, about 5 minutes. Add the 2 1/4 cups (532ml) spiced chicken stock, cover with a tight-fitting lid, and bring to a simmer. Lower heat to maintain a gentle simmer and cook, covered, until the maftool has absorbed most of the liquid (see package directions for recommended cooking times). Remove from heat, insert a paper towel or clean kitchen towel under the lid, and let stand 15 minutes.

Two Image Collage. Top: Maftool cooked in a pot. Bottom: Towel wrapped around lid of pot.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

For the Chicken: Turn on broiler and set oven rack to the second-highest position. In a small bowl, stir together olive oil, tomato paste, and yogurt until thoroughly combined. Season with salt and pepper. Spread yogurt mixture all over skin side of reserved chicken, then broil until the skin is a golden brown, about 5 minutes (note broiling times can vary depending on strength of broiler; keep a close eye on the chicken as it broils).

Two image collage of yogurt marinated chicken before and after being cooked
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

To serve, fluff up the maftool with a fork and spoon onto a large serving platter. Ladle some of the butternut squash over it with enough broth to moisten without the maftool becoming soupy. Top with the chicken pieces and serve with bowls of the butternut squash broth on the side.

Finished bowl of maftool
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Special Equipment

Dutch oven, 3- or 4-quart pot

Notes

Maftool is becoming more widely available in supermarkets and online, but if you are unable to find it, you can substitute it with fregola sarda, giant couscous, or even very coarse-grain bulgur, following package instructions for cooking times in each case.

Make-Ahead and Storage

The butternut squash broth and the maftool can be refrigerated separately for up to 3 days. The chicken is best enjoyed the day it is prepared, but leftover chicken can be shredded and added to the broth before refrigerating. 


To reheat, add a ladleful of broth to the pot of maftool and warm on the stove  over low heat. Alternatively, use a microwave. 


Bring the remaining broth back to a boil before serving; the leftover shredded chicken can be reheated in the broth. 

Qidreh

The hallmark dish of the Palestinian city of Hebron, qidreh is brimming with tender bone-in lamb and fragrant spiced rice.

Overhead view of Qidreh with a side plate of yogurt
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Qidreh is the hallmark dish of the Palestinian city of Hebron. The word itself, qidreh, simply means “pot” and refers to the copper vessel in which this dish is typically prepared. Rarely is qidreh cooked at home, however. The initial preparation may take place in the house, from boiling the meat to spicing the rice, but it is then sent in its special copper pot to the neighborhood wood-fired oven, where it is fully cooked.

It is considered an essential dish during the month of Ramadan, but is also a go-to choice for weddings, funerals, and special occasions in Hebron. Variations of qidreh exist across the country, particularly in Jerusalem and Gaza, but in its most original form in Hebron, the dish gets its distinct flavor primarily from the wood-fired oven and from pouring a generous amount of samneh baladiyeh (a local clarified butter with spices) on top before serving.

In Jerusalem, cooks have taken to adding chickpeas to the dish, which add both texture and heft to the meal, and in Gaza, it is taken a step further with whole garlic cloves and a much longer list of spices, but neither of those additions are traditional to Hebron's version. In this recipe I include both chickpeas and garlic because, without the distinct aroma of a wood-fired oven, these additions help layer more flavor into the dish. However, I keep the spices on the milder side to allow the ingredients to truly shine.

The dish is made with lamb on the bone, partly because lamb is the most popular meat in the Palestinian diet, but also because it's a pricier meat that is fitting for the special occasions where qidreh is typically served. Nowadays, in some more casual instances, chicken is also used, although the traditional dish relies on lamb.

Using bone-in pieces not only offers a more appealing presentation, it also enriches the broth much more than boneless pieces would. It is possible, however, to make a quicker version of this recipe with boneless stewing pieces of lamb. That cuts about one hour from the broth simmering time, though in that case I'd recommend making the broth with chicken stock (preferably homemade) instead of water to help build deeper flavor.

As for serving qidreh, it is almost always presented with a side of plain yogurt and a chopped Palestinian salad, which provide lightness and contrast to the dish's rich and earthy flavor.

For the lamb broth: In a large 7 or 8-quart Dutch oven or stockpot, heat olive oil over medium-high heat until just shy of smoking. Working in batches to avoid crowding the pot, add the lamb and cook, turning occasionally, until well browned on all sides, about 4 minutes per side. Return all lamb to the pot.

Two image collage of lamb before and after being cooked in a dutch oven
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Add the cardamom, bay leaves, allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, ground coriander seed, cumin, turmeric, and the whole onion followed by the water and salt. Bring to a boil over high heat, skimming any foam that rises to the surface, then lower heat to a simmer and cook until lamb is tender, about 2 hours. Remove from heat and strain lamb broth through a fine mesh strainer set over a large heatproof bowl. Discard onion, bay leaves, and cardamom pods. Transfer lamb to a platter and set aside.

Two Image Collage. Top: Lamb cooking in the dutch oven on the stove. Bottom: Lamb being strained over a glass bowl
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

For the rice: Preheat oven to 325°F (160°C). In a Dutch oven, heat olive oil and butter over medium heat until butter is melted. Add onions, lower heat to medium-low, and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and golden, 10 to 15 minutes.

Golden onions in a dutch oven
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Add the garlic and cook, stirring, until garlic is just starting to turn a golden hue, about 2 minutes. Stir in salt, cumin, allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, coriander seed, and turmeric, cook for 1 minute, then stir in the rice until evenly coated. Stir in the chickpeas until well combined.

Four Image Collage of garlic, spices, rice and chickpeas being added to dutch oven
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Add 1 quart (940ml) lamb broth to the rice mixture, increase heat to high and bring the broth to a boil; reserve additional broth for another use. Immediately remove from heat, arrange the reserved lamb on top of the rice, cover the pot, and cook in the oven until the rice is fully cooked, all the broth has been absorbed, and the lamb has browned on its exposed surface, about 1 hour. Remove from oven and let stand, covered, for 15 minutes.

Side by side images of the stew in dutch oven before and after lamb is added.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Uncover pot, sprinkle with toasted almonds and minced parsley, and serve, passing yogurt in a separate bowl at the table. Traditionally, when served at large gatherings, the pieces of meat are removed, the pot is inverted onto a large serving platter, then the pieces of meat are rearranged on top and sprinkled with the garnish. However, it looks just as beautiful served from the pot, especially if you are using an enameled Dutch oven and/or having a small familiar gathering.

Finished Qidreh topped with almonds in a dutch oven
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Special Equipment

Dutch oven

Notes

If you prefer not to deal with bone-in lamb, you can substitute with 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 pounds boneless lamb stewing cuts. It will cut about an hour from the broth-cooking time than the larger bone-in pieces. If going this route, using chicken broth instead of water for the broth to make up for any loss in flavor due to the lack of bones and shorter simmering time.

If you are averse to lamb, you could use beef instead; bone-in shanks and short ribs are a good choice. 

Make-Ahead and Storage

The broth and lamb can be made up to 2 days in advance; simply strain broth, then return lamb to it and refrigerate, tightly covered, until ready to finish the dish. Reheat the lamb in the broth before proceeding with the recipe.

To reheat leftovers, splash about 1/2 cup of broth on the qidreh, then heat in a moderate oven until hot throughout; add more broth as necessary until fully heated through to prevent the qidreh from over-drying.

Kafta bi Bandora (Palestinian Ground Meat Patties in Tomato Sauce)

Lamb with herbs, onions, and spices make the juiciest version of this ancient dish.

Overhead view of kafta in baking dish next to a bowl of rice.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Kafta, a mixture of minced meat and spices, is an ancient preparation found across the Middle East, South Asia, and parts of Europe. Different cultures have adapted it to their own tastes and there are now innumerable ways of cooking and enjoying this dish (as well as pronouncing and transliterating it: you will often find it written as "kofta," which reflects a more Egyptian pronunciation; here I use "kafta," which more closely reflects how Palestinians say it).

In the Palestinian kitchen, it is one of the most versatile and easy meals to prepare. The meat is usually made with minced lamb, but it can also be made with beef, goat, or any combination thereof. It's mixed with onions, parsley, and spices, with other flavorings like herbs and nuts varying from family to family. Most people tend to finely grate or finely mince the additions like onions, tomatoes, garlic, and parsley, but I often blitz it quickly in a mini-chopper to save time and have not noticed any major difference in taste or texture.

Once the basic seasoned meat mixture is made, the possibilities for what to do with it are endless. It can be spread out in a baking dish, topped with onions and tomatoes or potatoes and peppers (or some other combination of those vegetables), and baked. It can be shaped into mini sausages and baked with potatoes in a tomato or tahini sauce. It can be made into patties and wrapped in grape leaves and cooked. It can be shaped into balls and poached in a lemony broth or other soups. And, of course, it can be grilled over a fire as well. These are but a few of the possibilities.

The key to good kafta is ensuring it is light and tender yet full of flavor. There are a few secrets to this, as my grandmother Teta Asma used to say. The first is to use a piece of day-old bread soaked in water, then drained and squeezed; this aligns with Daniel Gritzer's Swedish meatball recipe tests, which found a wet panade led to more juicy and tender meatballs than dry breadcrumbs. Rather than soaking the bread with a plain liquid as a standalone step, I work in more flavor by pulsing it together with tomato, onion, and whatever herbs and spices I am using. The juices from the tomato and onion help to soak and disintegrate the bread, providing an insurance policy against dryness when the kafta is baked.

The second is to make sure you mix the ingredients enough so that you create a texture more cohesive than the loose grind of a hamburger patty but not so much that it becomes as bouncy as a sausage. Over the years, I have taken the spirit of her wisdom and experimented endlessly with kafta until I arrived at a version that ticks all the boxes, one that is fluffy and full of flavor yet it retains its shape, is juicy throughout and crispy around the edges, and is generously seasoned with ample flavor, but the meat still shines through as the star.

Third, try to get ground meat with a generous 20% fat content if possible—that fat is essential to juicy and flavorful kafta. Without it, the results will much more likely be chalky and dry.

In many cases, I broil the kafta first on a separate baking sheet before assembling the final dish with sauces and any other additional components. This not only develops better flavor by ensuring the meat browns and crisps instead of just stewing in sauce, but also allows for better presentation: Since kafta shrinks slightly when cooked, this pre-cooking step gets the shrinkage out of the way before final assembly, so the finished dish comes out looking full, not shrunken.

The traditional spices I use are called “mixed spices” in Arabic, and essentially include allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, and cumin. Sometimes I add cardamom, cloves, coriander, and/or nutmeg as well, but it is not necessary as even with black pepper and cumin alone, the flavor is still sublime. The recipe below is one version of kafta, the most common I make at home. But once you’ve nailed the basics of it, you should feel free to try out as many renditions as you can find or invent.

For versions that include a sauce, like the one here, rice is my preferred accompaniment, though bread is the choice for some. Or, if you really want to do it Palestinian style, then triple-carb is the way to go: kafta that has been cooked with potatoes, then served over rice with bread alongside to “scoop” everything up, or at least help push them onto your spoon.

For the Meat: Preheat oven to 425°F (220°C). On a rimmed baking sheet, toss potatoes with olive oil and a large pinch of salt, then arrange in a single layer. Roast until nicely browned, about 35  minutes. Set aside.

Two Image collage. Left: Uncooked potato slices on a sheet pan. Right: Roasted potato slices on a sheet pan
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Meanwhile, in a food processor, combine bread, tomato, onion, garlic, chile (if using), coriander, parsley, allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, cumin, and ground coriander along with the 1 tablespoon olive oil and 1 tablespoon (9g) Diamond Crystal kosher salt (for fine sea salt, use half as much by volume or the same weight). Pulse, scraping down sides as necessary, until a coarse paste forms.

Two Image collage. Left: bread, tomato, onion, garlic, chile (if using), coriander, parsley, allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, cumin, and ground coriander along with the 1 tablespoon olive oil and 1 tablespoon (9g) Diamond Crystal kosher salt in a food processor. Right: mixture after being pulsed in the food processor
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

In a large mixing bowl, combine ground meat with the processed vegetables and spices and mix well with your hands just until fully combined.

Two Image Collage of ground meat and vegetable and spice mixture, before and after being combined in a glass bowl
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Shape the meat mixture into 3-inch-wide by 3/4-inch-thick patties (about 15 to 18 patties), and arrange on a second rimmed baking sheet. Cook until the surface has nicely browned, about 15 minutes. Set aside.

Side by side images of the meat patties before and after being cooked
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

For the Sauce and to Assemble: In a medium mixing bowl, stir together crushed tomatoes and their juices with the olive oil and garlic along with 1/2 cup (118ml) water. Season with salt and pepper.

Crushed tomatoes topped with olive oil and garlic in a glass bowl
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

In a 9- by 13-inch rectangular baking dish or a 10- or 11-inch oval baking dish, arrange kafta patties in an upright shingled pattern, alternating with potato slices and green bell pepper rounds (you will only need around 15 to 20 slices each of potato and bell pepper; reserve any extra for snacking). Add any accumulated juices from the katfa baking sheet, then pour tomato sauce all over.

Uncooked kafta in baking dish
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Bake until sauce is bubbling and slightly thickened and the bell peppers are browning in spots, about 25 minutes.

Cooked kafta in baking dish
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Serve with vermicelli rice or plain white rice and/or fresh pita bread.

Overhead view of kafta in baking dish next to a bowl of rice.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Make-Ahead and Storage

The kafta and potatoes can be roasted several hours and assembled in the baking dish with green peppers and sauce, then refrigerated for several hours until ready to bake.

Notes

I prefer russet potatoes for this dish, as they tend to smash more when you eat the kafta with bread and rice, but other varieties, such as Yukon gold, will work.


The type of meat you use is flexible. Using only lamb will provide the gamiest flavor, which works very well with the seasonings in this dish. Using only beef or veal will be more mild; veal also provides more gelatin than the other two, which can improve juiciness, though any of these meats at 20% fat will be very juicy. If you want a subtle lamb flavor, creating a 1:1 mixture of ground beef and lamb or a 1:1:1 mixture of beef, veal, and lamb will both work, as will any other ratio, depending on your flavor preferences.

Dawali

Warak dawali (literally: grape leaves) is a complete one-pot meal of stuffed grape leaves, often lined at the bottom with lamb chops or beef short ribs.

Overhead view of finished dawali
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Warak dawali (literally: grape leaves), as Palestinians call both forms of this dish, may be one of our most common meals, yet it is also one of our most festive. No celebratory table is complete without a pot of stuffed grape leaves, often lined at the bottom with lamb ribs, although the options are endless and people have been known to line it with everything from lamb tongues or stuffed intestines to beef steaks or even chicken. In addition to the leaves, sometimes we also stuff small white courgettes (koosa) and baby eggplants that we layer in between the stuffed grape leaves and cook in the same pot.

The history of stuffing foods goes back centuries, possibly even farther, to the start of civilization. One of the first written records we have of the practice, however, is in the oldest Roman recipe collection by Apicius in the 1st century AD, and after that, in Arabic cookbooks from the Middle Ages. In those texts, what was most often stuffed was not vegetables, but instead whole cuts of meat filled with a variety of things from nuts and grains to vegetables and other cuts of meat or offal. The only vegetables Arabs wrote about stuffing in medieval times were eggplants and gourds.

Four stuffed grape leaves
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

According to research by Charles Perry in Oxford Symposium's Wrapped and Stuffed Foods, it was during the Ottoman Empire about 500 years ago that stuffed vegetables began to proliferate into the common food category we now enjoy across Arab, Mediterranean, and Baltic cuisines. Today, there are countless varieties of vegetables, fruits, and leaves stuffed with just as many filling options. Grape leaves are one of the most common, found across a large swatch of cultures. Yet how they are stuffed and cooked varies considerably from one place to the next.

Across Palestine, Syria, Jordan, and Lebanon, differences in how stuffed vegetables are prepared are marginal, akin to how two neighbors might prepare the same dish in slightly different ways. The biggest difference is often one of nomenclature. Generally, there are two varieties of stuffed grape leaves: vegetarian and with meat. The vegetarian is usually stuffed with a rice or bulgur mixture flavored with herbs, tomatoes, onions, and lemon juice, while the meat one is almost always rice and ground lamb or beef with spices. The vegetarian version can be eaten warm, at room temperature, or even cold, and is often served as a side or appetizer. But, to my mind, the meaty version is the real star.

There are a few key elements to ensure the best outcome to this dish; as with many things, the process becomes easier with practice. The first thing to pay attention to is the actual rolling. Many a Palestinian woman will tell you that a rolled grape leaf should be no bigger than your pinkie; this is much more slender than the plump dolmas of Greece. Indeed, there is something delectable about these miniature bites. But if wrapping grape leaves wasn’t time consuming enough, then ensuring every single leaf was cut and rolled to that size is a whole day project. I myself have opted for larger leaves to make the process faster. As you roll the filling into the leaves, it's important to make sure it's not over-stuffed and taught, but still wrapped tightly enough that the stuffing doesn't escape during cooking. If you do over-stuff the rolls, they'll likely split during cooking as the raw rice swells as it cooks.

Half folded grape leaf
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

The second element is the leaves themselves: fresh grape leaves have a distinct, and in my opinion, superior flavor to the jarred variety. If you're lucky enough to have access to fresh ones, harvest them in the spring when tender, tightly pack in cling film or vacuum pack, and freeze for use throughout the year. For most people, however, it is much easier to find the jarred varieties. This is a perfectly fine substitute, just opt for brands found at Middle Eastern grocery stores, such as California, Alafia, Ziyad or Orlando, and look for harvest dates that are earlier in the spring because by the time you get to summer harvest dates in July and August, the leaves are bigger and less tender. In any case, always make sure you cut out the stem and remove any veins that appear too thick or hard. If a leaf is more than one and a half times the size of your palm, you might want to consider cutting it vertically in half as well, then rotate it 180 degrees to fill and roll it.

Plate of grape leaves
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Another element to consider early on is the seasoning and spicing. The stuffing is contained inside the leaves, so it would be difficult to season properly after cooking. That is why it is important to ensure that both the stuffing and the cooking liquid are sufficiently seasoned and well spiced; if they're not, the finished dish will possibly taste bland and one-dimensional.

The final key detail is cooking. The stuffed grape leaves are all packed together and cooked in a pot, either with or without pieces of meat layered on the bottom for more flavor. Regardless, low and slow is the way to go. It is possible to cook this dish vigorously on high heat, but it always comes out better when it is given the time it needs for all the flavors to meld, the rice to cook properly to a very soft consistency, and the meat to become fall-apart tender.

I like to use a nonstick pot for this, which reduces the chances that anything will stick once it comes time to turn all the stuffed grape leaves out. You can also use a heavy-bottomed stainless-steel pot, or an enameled Dutch oven, though the former has some risk of the food sticking and the latter makes flipping the grape leaves out more difficult because of its weight.

Once you’ve flipped the pot over to serve, all you need is a bowl of yogurt on the side and you have a perfect and complete one-pot meal that’s as festive as it is delicious.

For the Filling: In a large bowl, stir together the rice, olive oil (or butter/ghee), allspice, tomato paste, cinnamon, black pepper, nutmeg, and salt until thoroughly combined. Add the ground meat and mix until evenly incorporated.

Ingredients for meat mixture inside grape leaves in a glass bowl
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

For the Broth: In a medium bowl, whisk together the water (or broth) with tomato paste, allspice, cinnamon, and black pepper until thoroughly combined; season with 1 tablespoon (9g) salt. Set aside.

Broth mixture in a measuring cup with whisk
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

To Assemble and Cook the Grape Leaves: If using jarred grape leaves, drain, then place in a heatproof bowl and gently pull apart leaves slightly. Pour boiling water over leaves until covered by at least 2 inches. Let stand 15 minutes, then drain and rinse thoroughly. For both fresh and jarred grape leaves, using a paring knife, cut out the tough central stem and any other thick and tough veins.

Two Image Collage. Top: Grape leaf face down on table with stem sticking up. Bottom: Stem removed from left and placed to the right of it
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

On a work surface, lay out as many grape leaves as you can fit, with the vein side up and stem end closest to you. Spoon about 2 teaspoons of the stuffing above the cut-out stem section of each leaf (you may need a little more or less depending on the size of the leaf). Using your fingers, form the stuffing into a thin log about 1/2 inch thick, leaving about 1 inch of uncovered leaf on either end.

Four grape leaves arranged on a grey counter with small logs of meat mixture placed at the base of each left
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Fold the sides of the grape leaves over the stuffing, then, working from the stem ends, roll the leaves up over the filling and away from you, making sure to roll them securely enough that they hold but not so tightly that there's no space for steam to penetrate or the rice to swell (if rolled too tightly, the rolls are likely to burst during cooking; this may happen to a few anyway, which shouldn't be considered a failure). Repeat with the remaining grape leaves and filling, reserving several large leaves to line and cover the pot.

Four grape leaves in various stages of folded, showing how to properly create grape leaf rolls
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

If you are using lamb chops or beef short ribs, season all over with salt. Heat the olive oil in a 6- or 7-quart nonstick pot or heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat until shimmering. Add the meat and sear on all sides until browned, about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat, then pack the tomato slices between the pieces of meat to fully cover the bottom of the pot. Lay enough reserved grape leaves on top to create a flat surface. If you are not using the lamb chops or beef short ribs, drizzle the bottom of the pot with the olive oil, then line with sliced tomatoes and cover with a few unrolled grape leaves.

Two Image Collage. Top: Lamb and Tomato layered together at the bottom of a pot. Bottom: Lamb and tomato layer covered with grape leaves
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Arrange the stuffed grape leaves in the pot in either concentric circles or rows.

Rolled grape leaves place in a circular rows in pot
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Cover the stuffed grape leaves with more reserved grape leaves, then top with an inverted plate slightly smaller than the diameter of the pot (this weighs down the stuffed grape leaves and prevents them from moving when the liquid comes to a boil).

Grape leaves placed in a second layer over rolled grape leaves
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Pour reserved broth over the grape leaves.

Broth being poured over and inverted plate placed ontop of grape leaves
Serious Eats / Amanda Suarez

Set the pot over medium-high heat and bring to a boil, then lower heat to maintain a simmer. Cover pot and cook at a gentle simmer until rice is meltingly tender, 1 hour 45 minutes to 2 hours; if using jarred grape leaves, add the lemon juice 5 minutes before removing from the heat. Remove from heat and tilt the pot to one side; if much more than a very thick trickle of liquid pools, then carefully pour or spoon off the excess liquid into a bowl and reserve (it can be used to reheat leftover stuffed grape leaves later).

Overhead view of broth bubbling in pot with grape leaves and inverted plate weighing it down
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Cover pot and let rest 20 to 30 minutes. When ready to serve, uncover and carefully remove the plate. Place an inverted serving platter over the pot, then quickly flip the pot over and carefully lift to reveal the stuffed grape leaves and meat (if using). If the pot you're using isn't nonstick, it's possible some tomato may not release right away; that's okay, simply scrape out anything that's stuck and add it to the platter. Shake the platter lightly back and forth to help the stuffed grape leaves come apart so you can serve individual pieces (tongs are the easiest way to transfer them to plates). Serve generously, at least 10 per person, and  offer plain yogurt on the side.

Two Image Collage. Top: Pot with platter placed over lid. Bottom: Flipped over stuffed grape leaves on platter showing meat and tomatoes at top
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Special Equipment

6 - 7 quart nonstick pot, enameled Dutch oven, or heavy-bottomed stainless-steel pot

Notes

While the taste of fresh grape leaves is superior, in most cases it is much easier to find the jarred varieties. Quality varies from brand to brand, as does size and freshness, and in many cases it will take you a few tries to settle on a brand you like. I recommend using jars found in Middle Eastern grocery stores, including brands such as California, Alafia, or Orlando, but make sure you look at harvest date: The earlier in the spring it was harvested, the better, because by the time you get to summer harvest dates, the leaves are much bigger and less tender. In any case, always make sure you cut off the stem and remove any veins that appear too thick or hard.

Make-Ahead and Storage

The stuffing can be prepared and the grape leaves rolled up to 1 day in advance.

Leftovers can be refrigerated up to 4 days. To reheat, place grape leaves in a pan, add some leftover cooking liquid or water, cover, and simmer until piping hot.

Hashweh

Spices bloomed in ghee add complexity to this celebratory Palestinian dish.

Hashweh with chicken served with a bowl of yogurt and farmers salad.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Celebrating With Stuffing

One of the most celebratory dishes in Arab culture is a whole lamb stuffed with rice and meat. It both signals respect to the guest and marks a momentous occasion because of the cost and labor associated with preparing it. In fact, most stuffed dishes are considered worthy of guests and special occasions, and Palestinians stuff a wide variety of animals from lamb and chicken to squab and rabbit. The most typical stuffing is made of rice and meat with spices, and oftentimes pine nuts as well. While these elaborate dishes remain an indispensable part of the Arab culinary repertoire, in recent times, as meat has become more accessible, simplified versions have come to prevail and feature more commonly on dinner tables. In these versions, the stuffing is served as a meal in its own right. For a slightly more elaborate version, short of stuffing a whole animal, shredded chicken or lamb can be scattered on top.  

The word for stuffing in Arabic is hashweh, and that’s what Palestinians call this dish even when it doesn't function as an actual stuffing. Other cultures in the Arab world have different names for similar preparations, including quzi (the Arabian Gulf), ruz bilkhalta (Egypt), or ruz mtabal (Syria).

The Meat

The complex flavor of the dish belies its simplicity. Because of that underlying simplicity, though, the quality of the ingredients is especially important, in particular the meat and broth. Although it is possible on a very busy day to make this meal using ready-ground beef and store-bought broth, the flavor is incomparable to one made with hand-diced (or home-ground) beef and homemade chicken broth.

When you dice or grind beef at home, you are able to control the cut of meat you are using and its fat content, so both the flavor and texture will be superior. When broth is homemade, you control the aromatics that go in and ensure it has a rich, clean flavor that compliments the spices in the dish.

I make hashweh on an almost weekly basis at home and have experimented with all kinds of variables. I have found that for the beef, any cut trimmed of excess fat will do, from sirloin and flank to chuck, boneless rib, or skirt. What I most often do is trim and semi-freeze the meat (broken down first into smaller chunks if it’s a big piece like chuck or brisket), which makes dicing it into very small cubes much easier. This piece explains that process in more detail, although you will need to freeze meat for longer than a fatty cut like bacon since it takes longer to firm up. You could also grind it while semi-frozen, just make sure to use the coarsest setting on your machine.

For broth you can use chicken, beef, or lamb. I personally prefer chicken because it offers a rich taste without overwhelming any of the other ingredients. For a quick weeknight meal, I will often use homemade chicken broth from my freezer, but when serving this to guests, I will make the broth using a whole chicken and then top the final dish with the reserved shredded chicken and nuts. You could use lamb shanks or beef short ribs in place of the chicken (although they would require longer cooking time in the broth to tenderize) for an equally delicious, but slightly different flavor.

The Rice

In terms of rice, my favorite variety for this dish is Calrose, although jasmine is a good substitute. Basmati, while its grains are less likely to clump up, just does not absorb the flavors as well or yield the same cohesive taste. In either case, it is imperative you wash the rice until the water almost runs clear (it will never be crystal clear with rice, but you should see a marked difference from the milky water that first appears when you start washing); removing the loose starchy powder from the surface of the rice grains will help ensure the grains remain separate and don't become gluey or clump.

Some people add the broth to the diced or ground meat once it has been cooked and then drop the rice in after that. I find that sautéing the rice with the meat and then adding the broth yields a fluffier texture that is much less likely to clump or become sticky—high heat from the sautéing breaks down the rice's starch, reducing its ability to thicken and helping to keep the grains even more light and fluffy instead of clumpy and sticky.

The final “trick in the book,” if you will, is to set a tea towel or some paper towels between the pot and its lid once you’re done cooking and to let it rest for a good 15 to 20 minutes before fluffing up with a fork and transferring to a serving dish. This resting step not only helps the flavors to settle and meld better, but also allows the rice to finish cooking in the remnant steam in the pot. The towel, meanwhile, ensures that condensed water doesn't form on the underside of the lid and drip back down onto the rice, which can make it mushy. The result: delicious rice with the perfect texture. With little more than a bowl of yogurt and a Palestinian farmer's salad served alongside, the meal will be perfect too.

For the Spiced Chicken Broth: In a stock pot or other heavy-bottomed pot, heat olive oil over medium heat until almost smoking. Working in batches to avoid crowding the pot, add chicken, skin side down, and sear until golden brown all over, about 5 minutes each side, then transfer to a plate or platter; add additional oil as needed to prevent pot from drying out during subsequent batches.

Chicken pieces searing in a stock pot.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Return all chicken pieces to the pot and stir in the onion and garlic. Add 10 cups (2.5L) water and bring to a boil over high heat. Boil for 5 minutes, skimming off any scum that rises to the surface. Reduce the heat to medium-low, add the bay leaves, allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, cardamom, and nutmeg and simmer until chicken is cooked through but not falling apart, about 1 hour; season lightly with salt midway through cooking.

Boiling chicken with spices in a stock pot.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Using tongs and a slotted spoon, transfer chicken pieces to a heatproof bowl along with 2 cups (475ml) broth. Cover to keep warm and set aside until ready to use. Strain remaining broth through a fine-mesh strainer, discarding solids. Keep the broth hot.

Broth straining via a sieve into a large glass bowl.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

For the Hashweh: Place rice in a medium mixing bowl and rinse with several changes of cold water until water runs clear. Cover rice with fresh cold water, soak for 15 minutes, then drain well.

Rice water draining into a kitchen sink.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, mix together allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, and nutmeg.

Allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, and nutmeg mixed in a small ceramic bowl.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

In a large Dutch oven, heat oil and butter (or ghee) over medium-high heat until the butter starts to sizzle, then add half of the spice mixture and fry just until fragrant, about 5 seconds. Add the beef and cook, stirring often, until any released water evaporates and the meat starts to sizzle, 10 to 15 minutes.

Beef and spices cooking in ghee in a large skillet.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Add 1/2 cup (120ml) of the reserved chicken broth, then lower heat and simmer until the liquid evaporates again.

Chicken broth added to cooked beef.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Add the drained rice to the meat and toss until rice is fully coated in the oil and evenly mixed with the meat. Add 4 cups (950ml) of the reserved chicken broth along with the remaining spices. Season with salt: the broth should be slightly saltier than you would like your finished dish to be, as the rice will absorb some of the salt.

Chicken stock added to a beef and rice mixture.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Bring to a boil over high heat, then lower the heat to maintain a bare simmer. Cover and cook until the liquid has mostly evaporated but the rice is still easy to stir with a spoon and not sticking to the bottom, about 10 minutes. Wrap a clean tea towel or paper towels around the lid and cover tightly again, then remove from the heat and let it sit to steam in the residual heat for 20 minutes.

Hashweh mixture resting while covered loosely with a tea towel.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Meanwhile, for the toppings: In a small skillet, combine 2 tablespoons (30ml) oil with almonds. Set over medium heat and cook, stirring, until almonds are a light golden color, about 4 minutes. Remove from the heat and drain on a plate lined with paper towels. Repeat with the remaining 1 tablespoon (15ml) oil and pine nuts.

Slivered almonds toasting on a stovetop.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

While the rice is still resting, shred the chicken from the broth into bite size morsels, discarding all skin and bones; reserve any remaining broth for another use. Add a ladleful of the simmering broth to the chicken to keep it warm, then remove the broth from the heat.

Shredded chicken mixed with homemade chicken stock.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

To serve, fluff rice with a large fork and transfer to a serving platter. Top with the shredded chicken followed by the toasted almonds and pine nuts and serve immediately.

Finished hashweh served on a large ovular platter.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Special Equipment

Meat grinder (optional)

Notes

To make dicing the meat easier, partially freeze it first (how long this takes will depend on the specific cut of beef you use and its dimensions).If you are pressed on time, you can substitute ground beef, lamb, or veal.

For a simpler weeknight version, you can use any homemade chicken stock you keep in the freezer, or store-bought low-sodium broth; in this case, omit the shredded meat garnish.

Make-Ahead and Storage

The broth and toasted nuts can be made up to 2 days in advance. The broth and chicken can be refrigerated, then returned to a simmer before proceeding with the recipe (it's easiest to shred the chicken while cold, then heat it up after with some broth). The toasted nuts can be held in an airtight container at room temperature until ready to use. If the chicken cools down too much before serving, you can always dip it back in the simmering broth for a couple of minutes.

Za’atar

Fragrant herbs dried at home create a blend that pairs perfectly with countless dishes (and is perfect even on its own).

Small bowl of Za'tar next to a piece of pita, a small bowl of olive oil, and a rectangular bowl of vegetables
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Za’atar is one of the most used and loved Arab ingredients in the West, and yet it is also one of the most misunderstood. Translations abound from “thyme” to “spice blend,” and mixes include all kinds of different ingredients, some calling for a mishmash of store-bought dried herbs to simply be mixed together. While this is neither offensive nor terrible tasting, it deprives you from experiencing za’atar in its best and most original form.

What Is Za'atar?

The word "za'atar" itself refers to a specific plant, the same way marjoram or dill or parsley do. It is also the name given to the blend made with the dried leaves of this plant—very creative nomenclature, I have to admit. Za’atar belongs to the oregano family (its scientific name, unsurprisingly, is Origanum Syriacum), and is native to the Levant, particularly the Syrian, Jordanian, and Palestinian mountains. This is probably why its closest substitute here in the West, in terms of flavor, is oregano, and not thyme as so many translations of the recipe might have led you to believe.

Every spring growing up, my family would take several trips to the mountains surrounding Jerusalem and pick za’atar leaves in the wild. We would use the fresh leaves in salads and breads, then dry the rest for use throughout the year. To this day, even with dried and ready-made varieties widely available, my parents, like many others, still forage for za’atar in the wild and dry it at home. If you’re thinking, why bother making it at home when you can now buy this condiment in stores, the truth is that what you buy tastes almost nothing like this home-made version. Give it a try, and you’ll understand why many Palestinian families still choose to forage, dry, and perform this yearly ritual by hand. 

Different elements of za'tar in separate bowls
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

At its finest, za’atar (the blend) uses only the leaves of the plant, which have been stripped off the stem and dried. These leaves are then ground with sesame seeds and then mixed with sumac, salt, and more whole sesame seeds. The texture of the ground sesame-herb mixture should be powdery, but it will not be dry because of the oils released from the ground seeds. The whole sesame seeds added in at the end are there as much for flavor as for texture, giving the blend the most satisfying delicate crunch.  

Making Your Own Za'atar

Fresh za’atar is difficult to find in the US, but its relatives like oregano and marjoram, and even thyme, are bountiful. Yes, you can purchase dried oregano, thyme, and marjoram in grocery stores, but I highly recommend you buy your own fresh leaves and dry them yourself, as the dried ones sold in stores can be cut with other herbs, can include stems, and are probably not as fresh as they should be, which is not ideal for making truly fine za’atar. (While I haven't had much luck finding dried za'atar leaves on their own in the US, one can find the premade za'atar mix here from companies like Burlap & Barrel, Maureen Abood Market, Milk Street, and Syndyanna, all good options for those who want to try za'atar made from real za'atar leaves.)

Sumac is another important component of the blend, and since the recipe calls for store-bought sumac, make sure you use a pure version without salt. If you are unable to find it, simply omit the salt in this recipe.    

All the Ways to Eat Za'atar

Za'tar in a small bowl next to a piece of pita and a small shallow bowl of olive oil
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

There is hardly a Palestinian kitchen table anywhere in the world that does not have a small bowl of za’atar sitting next to one of olive oil. The most common breakfast food is a piece of bread dipped in olive oil then za’atar. It is also perfect sprinkled over fried eggs or swirled into yogurt or labaneh. You can also mix it with olive oil and use it as a topping for manaqeesh (a flatbread), add it to meat and chicken marinades, or blend it into doughs. Since moving to the United Statesabroad, I have come up with less traditional uses for it, mixing it into salad dressings or breadcrumb coatings and even sprinkling it on mashed potatoes and roast vegetables. My soft spot, though, remains the most basic: a fresh piece of taboon bread dipped in olive oil and za’atar.

In an 8- or 10-inch stainless steel skillet, heat sesame seeds over medium-low heat, stirring continuously to avoid scorching, until aromatic and starting to pop, about 8 minutes. Transfer toasted sesame seeds to a bowl to cool completely.

Two image collage. Top: Sesame seeds in a pan with a wooden spoon. Bottom: Toasted sesame seeds in a blue bowl.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Using a blender or spice grinder, and working in batches if necessary, grind za’atar leaves and one-third of the toasted sesame seeds to a fine powder. Transfer mixture to a large bowl, then whisk in the remaining sesame seeds along with the sumac and salt until well combined. Transfer to an airtight container, then store at room temperature for up to 3 months, in the refrigerator for up to 6 months, or in the freezer for up to 1 year.

Four Image collage. Top Left: Sumac leaves and sesame sees in a grinder. Top Right: Grinded sesame seeds and sumac leaves. Bottom Left: blue bowl with ground sumac and sesame seeds, sesame seeds, salt in a bowl unmixed. Bottom Right: za'tar in a bowl.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Special Equipment 

A powerful blender (like a Vitamix or a Thermomix) or a spice grinder

Notes

The actual za’atar plant is not very easy to find in the US, although some specialty purveyors or international markets might carry it in the spring and early summer. Oregano is the most suitable substitute: For the best results, start with fresh oregano leaves and dry them according to the directions below (commercially dried oregano will be older and less flavorful). You can also mix in some marjoram and/or thyme leaves, but oregano should be the most prevalent herb (a ratio of 3 parts oregano to 1 part marjoram and/or thyme works best).

To get 1 1/2 ounces (45g) of dried oregano leaves you will need 250 to 300g fresh oregano leaves, from about 1 to 1 1/2 pounds (500 to 700g) oregano stems (once dried and rubbed to a fine consistency, this will yield about 1 1/4 cups). To dry the oregano, first taste the fresh leaves and make sure they are not so bitter, peppery, or astringent that it feels unpleasant in your mouth (some varieties of oregano can be especially intense and are best not used for this; most of the fresh oregano I've bought in the US is fine, but it's worth confirming before proceeding with the drying process). Spread oregano stems on towel-lined baking sheets and set in a well ventilated but clean area until completely dry (next to a sunny window is ideal). This can take from a few days to a couple of weeks depending on climate and batch size. Alternatively, use a dehydrator set to 100°F (38°C) until completely dry, about 36 hours. You will know the leaves are dry when one easily crumbles between your fingers.Rub dried leaves off of stems and discard stems, then proceed with recipe.

Make-Ahead and Storage

Za’atar can be kept in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 months, refrigerated for up to 6 months, or frozen for up to 1 year.

Maqlubeh

Layers of meat, fried vegetables, and spiced rice flipped over to reveal a complete and festive meal.

Maqlubeh plated on a white dish with a bowl of sauce and a small salad next to it
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Even at the risk of sounding like the father from My Big Fat Greek Wedding, I will start by explaining the etymology of the word maqlubeh or maqlubah (both spellings are accurate and simply indicate different Arab accents). Its root is the Arabic verb meaning “to flip” and the word itself just means “flipped over.” It’s an apt description given that in order to serve this dish, you top the pot in which it was cooked with a large serving platter, then flip it and lift to reveal a cake-shaped dish of rice, vegetables, and meats.  

Common across Palestine and widely recognized as the national dish, there are as many variations of “maqlubeh” as there are Palestinian families. Traditionally, it is made by boiling either lamb or chicken, frying one or more vegetables (historically just eggplants), then layering the meat, rice, and vegetables in a stew pot and cooking it with some stock.

Over the years, it has evolved to include countless variations. There are seasonal ones, such as maqlubeh made with cauliflower in the winter or fava beans in the spring, and personal adaptations that might reflect, for example, a family's preference for putting cauliflower, eggplant, and carrots together in the same pot. Still others might add chickpeas, or garlic and onions, or even tomatoes to line the pot. But eggplant remains the gold standard, and, if the following old story is to be believed, was the vegetable used when maqlubeh first received its descriptive name.

Towards the end of the twelfth century, Salah ad-Din, the sultan of Egypt and Syria, led a military campaign against the Crusaders in the Levant in which he defeated a massive army in the Battle of Hattin and captured back the city of Jerusalem. Legend has it that the local Jerusalem population, elated with this victory, served Salah ad-Din and his men a generous feast. One of the main dishes was “bathinjaniyeh” (bathinjan means eggplant in Arabic), a dish of rice and eggplants ceremoniously flipped over on a serving platter in front of guests as a sign of hospitality and respect. Delighted with its flavor, Salah ad-Din is said to have later asked, “What is the name of this flipped over (maqlubeh) dish?” From that point onwards, the name of bathinjaniyeh became maqlubeh, and remains it today.

How much of this history is true and how much is embellished is hard to ascertain, but eggplant dishes had by that time gained favor and become some of the most popular, with recipes widely available in medieval Arabic cookbooks. Rice, however, was much less popular in the Levant during that era because it did not grow natively (it required a substantial amount of water, difficult in a drier climate). Even in later centuries, rice continued to be perceived as a food reserved for the wealthy and only in recent years has it become a staple. So it is entirely possible that the grain of choice for maqlubeh was historically the more readily available wheat in either bulgur or freekeh form.   

Today, however, maqlubeh is a rice dish, and one of the most popular at that, served both on special occasions and on an almost weekly basis for many Palestinian families. It’s an entire meal in one pot that can feed a crowd, so it is often the perfect choice for weekend gatherings when large extended families tend to get together.

Even though there are countless variations, there are a few elements common across them all which ensure the best flavor and texture.

First is the broth. The flavor of the dish will largely come down to the flavor of the broth used, so homemade is the way to go so that you can control the many layers of flavors and seasonings.

Then comes the rice. The texture is meant to be soft, but not mushy or sticky. Once the dish is flipped out, a gentle shake of the serving platter back and forth should see the grains cascade down to fill the platter in a mound of tender individual grains that are easy to tell apart. This in part comes down to the variety of rice used. You want a long-grain rice that is prized for its ability to produce rice with a fluffy texture, so more glutinous and sticky varieties like medium-grain rice are out. Jasmine is the most popular choice, with Calrose a close second. While basmati is a perfectly suitable choice that many opt for because of its long individual grains, the texture is a little on the dry side and the flavor feels less cohesive.

Rinsing and soaking the rice is equally essential to avoid sticky or mushy rice. Rinsing the rice until the water runs clear removes surface starches that can gum up the results, while soaking it hydrates the starch more evenly, setting it up for more uniform, tender results once cooked.

The choice of meat is discretionary, although both chicken and lamb are common. Bone-in pieces are traditional, because they are used to first make the broth, and yield the most flavor. But if you already have a good homemade broth on hand, it is entirely possible to use boneless cuts of meat. If it is chicken breast, simply brown it in olive oil with spices until almost cooked through before layering the dish; you don't want to simmer the lean, white meat too long, or it'll end up dry and chalky in the finished dish. If it is stewing cuts of lamb (or beef), then cook them in the broth until tender before proceeding with the dish; the longer cooking on these stewing cuts allows for tough, collagenous connective tissue to break down into supple gelatin, ensuring tender results.

It is in the choice of vegetables where the most opportunity for variation exists, though as mentioned, eggplant is the most typical. In most cases, the vegetables need to be pre-cooked before being layered into the maqlubeh, but the method of cooking will depend on the vegetable. Cauliflower and eggplant are usually deep- or shallow-fried first, allowing for thorough browning and tenderizing, and a softer, silkier texture. It's not uncommon today, however, to broil these vegetables in order to speed preparation and reduce the amount of oil needed; high-heat roasting of a vegetable like cauliflower could also work. Other common vegetable choices like favas, carrots, or a mix, are usually sautéed in olive oil until just tender.

The final piece of the puzzle is the assembly. The meat goes into the pot first, followed by a portion of soaked and drained rice that's been seasoned with spices. The vegetables are then layered in and topped with the remaining rice. If it is a substantially large meal, one can do more layers of rice and vegetables. A heatproof plate, slightly smaller than the pot’s circumference, is usually inverted on top to weigh it all down and ensure the layers hold their shape during cooking, and then the broth is poured in. Once the rice is cooked, it’s set aside to steam for 15 to 20 minutes with a tea towel or paper towels inserted under the lid, which absorbs moisture that would otherwise condense on the bottom of the lid and drip back down onto the rice, turning it damp and mushy in spots.

The real treat is the act of flipping it over. There is always this palpable tension in the air, “Will it come out in one piece? What will it look like?” Nonstick pots definitely help reduce the risk of sticking, but another trick if you don't have a nonstick pot is to line the bottom of the pot with a round sheet of parchment paper. While this will not give you a nicely sizzling, brown bottom, it will ensure easy release.

When it comes time to serve, fried slivered almonds add a welcome crunch to the dish, while yogurt and chopped Palestinian salad make the perfect accompaniments. But even on its own with a spoon, this dish is a complete meal. While I will always think of maqlubeh as a celebratory or family meal that can carry its own weight, it’s also the perfect side dish for roasted or grilled meats.

For the Broth: In a heavy-bottomed stock pot, heat olive oil over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add chicken, skin side down, and sear until the chicken is golden-brown all over and releases easily from the pot, about 5 minutes per side.

Chicken, skin side down, cooking in a pot on a stove
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Add the allspice, black peppercorns, cloves, cardamom, bay leaves, cinnamon sticks, tomato paste, and turmeric and stir to coat the chicken. Add the whole onion along with 10 1/2 cups water and the salt, and bring to a boil. Let boil for 5 minutes, skimming any scum that rises to the surface, then reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until the chicken is cooked through but not falling apart, about 1 hour. Using tongs, transfer chicken to a plate or platter and set aside.

Four Image collage. Clockwise from upper left: Cooked chicken in pot with spices on a small plate to the side; chicken in pot covered with spices; chicken with spices, onions, and broth in pot; cooked chicken removed from pot and plated.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish


Allow broth to cool slightly, then strain through a fine-mesh strainer set through a large heatproof bowl. Discard solids and set broth aside.

Strained broth in a glass bowl, with the strained ingredients in the strainer in the upper right of the frame
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Meanwhile, for the Maqlubeh: While the broth is simmering, set rice in a large mixing bowl and wash in several changes of cold water, swishing well with your hand each time, until the water is clear. Cover rice with fresh cold water and let soak for 25 minutes.

Washed rice in a clear bowl
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Fill a Dutch oven, wok, or large sauté pan, with about 1 inch of vegetable oil. Heat oil over high heat to 375°F (190°C). Working in batches to avoid crowding the oil, fry eggplant slices in a single layer, turning once halfway through, until golden-brown on both sides, about 5 minutes. Carefully transfer fried eggplant to a paper towel–lined platter or baking sheet. Once all the eggplant has been fried, repeat with cauliflower, frying florets until golden brown all over.

Three Image Collage. On the left: top image is eggplant being fried in a dutch oven, on the bottom is cauliflower being fried in a dutch oven. On the right is a vertical image of fried eggplant and cauliflower on a paper towel lined sheet
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Drain rice well, return to mixing bowl, then stir in the olive oil, turmeric, allspice, cinnamon, black pepper, and salt until thoroughly combined.

Two Image Collage: Rice in a bowl with spices sitting on top; Rice with spices mixed in
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

To assemble the maqlubeh, grease the interior of a large nonstick pot (approximately 10-inches wide and 5-inches high) with ghee; if you do not have a nonstick pot, then line the bottom of a Dutch oven or stainless steel pot with a round piece of parchment paper and then grease with ghee.

Pot lined with ghee
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Arrange the cooked chicken, skin side down, in the pot. Spread one third of the rice on top in as even a layer as possible. Layer the fried eggplant and cauliflower on top as evenly as possible; you can arrange them in two separate stacked layers, as a single layer split down the middle with cauliflower on one side and eggplant on the other, or freely mixed together. Top with the remaining rice, spreading it in an even layer; you should not see the vegetables through the rice, or, at most, see only some edges popping through.

Four Image Collage. Clockwise from upper left: ingredients (chicken on a plate, rice in a bowl, fried vegetables, and broth) arranged neatly; Chicken layered in the pot; fried vegetables layered on top of the chicken in a pot; rice layered on top of vegetables and chicken in a pot.
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Set an inverted heatproof plate, slightly smaller than the circumference of the pot, over the rice. This weighs down the maqlubeh, helping it retain its distinctive layers.

A plate weighing down the maqlubeh in a pot
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Ladle broth on top until it reaches approximately 3/4 inch (2cm) above the rice and other ingredients. Cover, set on medium heat and bring to a boil, then reduce heat to maintain a strong simmer and cook for 10 minutes. Lower the heat to a very gentle simmer and cook until all the liquid has been absorbed, 10 to 15 minutes longer. Remove from heat.

Maqlubeh with stock brought to a boil on the stove
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Using tongs and an oven mitt or kitchen towel, carefully remove the inverted plate. Set a well-fitting lid on the pot, sandwiching a clean tea towel or paper towels between the pot and the lid. Set aside to steam for 15 to 20 minutes. For crispier rice, see note at end.

Overhead view of lid of pot wrapped in towel
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

For the Almonds: In a small skillet, pour in enough olive oil to thinly coat the bottom (about 1 to 2 tablespoons). Add the almonds and cook over medium heat, stirring continuously, until almonds are a light golden color, about 5 minutes. Remove from the heat and drain on a plate lined with paper towels. Alternatively, place the almonds on a small sheet pan and toast in a 350°F (175°C) oven until golden, about 5 minutes.

Overhead view of Almonds being toasted in a pan
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

To Serve: Remove the lid and place a large, inverted serving platter on top of the pot. Using both hands, quickly but carefully flip the pot over. Slowly lift the pot to reveal the dish.

Two image collage. Top: Pot flipped over onto a large plate. Bottom: a person slowly lifting the pot off the plate to show intact maqlubeh underneath
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Give the serving platter a gentle shake back and forth to help disperse the rice grains. Sprinkle with toasted almonds and serve alongside Palestinian salad and fresh yogurt.

Finished Maqlubeh topped with almonds on a plate
Serious Eats / Mai Kakish

Notes

If you do not have all the whole spices for the broth, substitute with 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, 1 teaspoon ground allspice, 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper, 1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom and 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves. Or, in a pinch, with 1 tablespoon of ground Lebanese 7 Spice.

If you do not have jasmine rice, you can use Calrose rice or another long grain rice such as Basmati. 

If you prefer your rice and chicken crispier, set the pot on the lowest heat for at least 30 minutes and up to 1 hour right after covering it with the lid and tea towel in Step 11. This will keep the dish warm and allow the rice and chicken skin to crisp up more. 

Make-Ahead and Storage

Once layered, the pot can be kept in the refrigerator for up to one day before cooking. Cooked leftovers can be refrigerated for up to 3 days. Reheat with a few splashes of chicken broth thoroughly before serving.