Mansaf is the one dish Jordanians will argue about with strangers. We make it the long way, starting with jameed - the rock-hard dried sheep's yoghurt that Suha's cousin sends down from Karak twice a year. You break it, soak it, and then spend forty minutes whisking it into a sauce that has to be stirred in one direction and never left to catch. While that happens the lamb simmers, the shrak bread comes out, and pine nuts go into samneh until they are one second from burning. Then we eat it the way it is eaten here: standing around a single tray, right hand only, left hand behind your back, someone pushing meat at you long after you have said no. Leen will translate the arguments. Honestly, though: jameed is sour, salty and unmistakably sheep. Roughly one guest in six finds it too much, and we would rather say so now than watch you be polite at the tray. There is no meaningful vegetarian mansaf either - if that is you, book the maqluba day instead. We start at 10 and eat at about 2, and Jabal Amman on a Friday morning is shut, so do not plan errands around it.
We are three generations in one kitchen on the third floor of a 1960s house off Second Circle in Jabal Amman. Sitti Nawal is 84 and still rolls warak enab faster than her daughters. Rana and Suha do the arguing about how much samneh is too much. Leen translates, badly, on purpose. We are not a cooking school and there are no aprons with our name on them - you stand at our counter, you cook lunch, and you eat it at the table with whoever else is home that day. Most sessions start early at Souk el-Khodra with a shopping list and an empty crate. Come hungry and leave the afternoon free.
View all experiences by this host βStarting from
Coming soon
This experience isnβt taking bookings yet. Tap the heart to save it for later.