Kibbeh, a “versatile paste of grains, onion and meat”, as The Oxford Companion to Food puts it, is known and loved in innumerable guises from Iran to Egypt, and from Cyprus to Iraq. The name, which also has several variations, including kubba and kobebah, comes from the Arabic word for ball, which suggests the form they usually, but not always, take – just as they usually, but not always, contain bulgur wheat – rice is also used regionally.
Yotam Ottolenghi has recalled enjoying kibbeh as a child in Jerusalem, where his favourite sort was that also popular among Syrians, Jordanians, Lebanese and Palestinians: “Torpedo-shaped; made with a shell of bulgur wheat and minced meat; stuffed with cooked mince, onion and pine nuts; flavoured with cinnamon and allspice; and deep-fried until dark brown and completely irresistible.” As these are the kibbeh I’m most familiar with, it’s the kind discussed below. And, to make life easier, I’ve decided to focus on Syrian kibbeh, which the authors of A Taste of Home, a collection of recipes by Syrian refugees settled in Lancashire, describe as “arguably” the country’s “best-loved and most famous dish”. That said, the city of Aleppo alone is said to have 17 different types, so this is a very partial survey – a beginner’s guide, if you will.
The filling
Kibbeh tend to have two components: a spiced meat filling wrapped around a seasoned bulgur wheat dough that also often contains meat. That meat, in the recipes I try, at least, is either lamb or lean beef, and should, as many caution, be as finely minced as possible, presumably to allow more to be stuffed into the kibbeh. Chef Sharon Salloum writes in her book Almond Bar, named after her much-missed Sydney restaurant, that mince for kibbeh “is usually chilled to nearly freezing point, then minced … four or five times to a very fine texture. It’s best to buy it from a Middle Eastern butcher, if you can.” I go into my local butchers at a quiet time, and ask them to put the stuff through the mincer again, but I suspect it’s still not as fine as required. That said, it still performs; it’s just clumsier to work with.
I prefer the stronger flavour of the lamb used by Aleppo native Amina Al Hassan, whose recipe is included in A Taste of Home, and Damascus-born London restaurateur Imad Alarnab, to the beef used by Salloum and Homs’ Anas Atassi, though that’s easily swapped if you feel otherwise. Everyone seasons the meat with baharat or seven-spice – Alarnab includes black pepper, cinnamon, coriander, cumin, cloves and nutmeg, Salloum black pepper, paprika, cumin, coriander, cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon and allspice (“depending on who is putting it together”, she writes, “the seven spices might easily turn into nine or 11”); Al Hassan also pops in cayenne pepper, which gives her filling real heat, and Alarnab earthy cumin seeds.
Though I’ve kept it slightly simpler on the spicing front (baharat can be bought in most supermarkets, but you might prefer to make your own fresh), I do very much like the sweetness of the pomegranate molasses that Atassi includes in his book Sumac. Feel free to leave that out, if you like, but pine nuts feel non-negotiable – my testers and I all prefer them left whole and crunchy, as in most recipes, rather than ground; if you’re cooking for a special occasion, fry them in butter, as Salloum and Alarnab suggest.
The dough
The more difficult aspect of kibbeh, for me at least, is the dough. Some recipes call for the bulgur wheat (use the fine or extra-fine sort) to be soaked for as long as two hours before use, whereas others simply rinse it. Al Hassan whizzes it in a blender, Atassi uses boiling rather than cold water, and no doubt all work brilliantly, so long as you’re a seasoned kibbeh cook. I find that the key is to make sure the bulgur wheat is sufficiently damp – a dry dough will fall apart – and to mix it with more meat as a binder, as Alarnab, Atassi and Salloum recommend. Though stuffing meat with more meat may feel rather turducken-like in principle, the proportions are modest enough for the result not to feel overwhelmingly lamby (I’ve chosen to use the same meat for both parts, but you could use lamb in the filling and beef in the shell, as Alarnab does in his book Imad’s Syrian Kitchen).
A quick soak in boiling water seems to work well for Atassi, and cuts down the preparation time, though I’ve left out his grated onion and bold spicing; cayenne, cumin and allspice are all delicious, but I’ve opted to keep my dough relatively plain as a foil for the highly flavoured filling. That said, everyone loves Alarnab’s lemon zest, so I’m stealing that particular twist.
The form
As mentioned, kibbeh can come in many different shapes and sizes, often related to the manner in which it’s cooked – or not. Intrigued, I also try kibbeh nayeh, or raw kibbeh, from the recipe on the – now apparently defunct – A Syrian in London blog, which whizzes lamb mince, soaked bulgur, onion, tomato and sun-dried red pepper paste into a puree and serves that topped with walnuts and olive oil. Enjoyable with crunchy vegetables and flatbreads, but it’s not the kibbeh I’m after here.
I try to make life easier for myself with the baked recipes in both Salloum and Alarnab’s books, which layer the dough and filling in a greased dish to create something akin to a Syrian meatloaf. While this is also very tasty, sadly I can’t deny the crowdpleasing aspect of the two deep-fried recipes I put in front of my testers. Crisp and crunchy, with a rich filling, they’re difficult to top. If you like the idea of kibbeh, but don’t want to mess around with hot oil, I suggest searching out a kibbeh bil sanieh, or baked kibbeh, either in the books mentioned or online.
Bear in mind that shaping kibbeh is a real art, so don’t be discouraged if your first few attempts don’t look like those you’ve eaten in restaurants: Ottolenghi explains that “the skill and dexterity involved were highly prized and considered one of the finest skills a woman – women traditionally make kibbeh in the Middle East – could have. As the food writer Claudia Roden writes: ‘One is said to be favoured by the gods if one is born with a long finger, which makes the shaping of kibbeh easier.’” Make sure that the oil is hot enough, that the dough damp and that the pan is not overcrowded (lessons I learned the hard way while making Al Hassan’s recipe, for which I hope she forgives me). And remember, even if your kibbeh are not beautiful, they’ll still be delicious enough not to hang around for long enough for anyone to notice.
Perfect kibbeh
Prep 30 min
Cook 30 min
Makes About 16
For the filling
2 tbsp olive oil
25g pine nuts
1 onion, peeled and finely chopped
2 tsp baharat, or seven-spice blend
200g finely minced lamb
1 tbsp pomegranate molasses (optional
Salt, to taste
For the dough
200g fine or extra-fine bulgur wheat
200g lamb mince
Finely grated zest of ½ scrubbed or unwaxed lemon
A pinch of baharat
1 tsp fine salt
½ tsp ground black pepper
Neutral oil, for frying
Start by making the filling. Heat half the oil in a frying pan, toast the pine nuts until golden, then scoop out with a slotted spoon and set aside.
Add the remaining oil and onion to the hot pan, fry until soft and golden, then stir in the baharat and fry for another minute or so.
Add the lamb, fry until well browned, then add the molasses, if using, and season to taste. Stir in the pine nuts, then take off the heat and leave to cool.
Put the bulgur in a large heatproof bowl, cover with 200ml just-boiled water and leave to soak for at least five minutes. Meanwhile, put the remaining lamb in a mini chopper or similar and blitz to a paste – such a small amount shouldn’t cause the motor to heat up, but if you’re making more, add an ice cube to keep things cool.
Add the lamb paste to the bulgur bowl, add all the remaining dough ingredients and use your hands to squidge everything together into a dough, adding a spoonful or two of cold water so the mix sticky rather than dry.
Use damp hands to shape the mix into balls about 3cm across, then poke a large hole in each in turn with a finger.
Hollow this out by turning the ball around against your finger – the aim is create a thin shell, but this does take practice – add a teaspoon of the filling, then close the dough back around it, shaping it again into a ball with damp hands. Put the finished kibbeh under a clean damp cloth.
Fill a large, deep pan no more than a third full of neutral oil, then heat it to 180C (a thermometer is the best way to ensure good results here, but know that it should sizzle the moment the kibbeh meets the oil).
Drop a few kibbeh into the hot oil – too many will bring down the temperature and they’ll fall apart – and fry, turning occasionally, for about five minutes, until deep brown. Drain on kitchen paper and repeat with the remaining kibbeh.
Serve with yoghurt, herbs, sliced green peppers and flatbreads.
Kibbeh, kubba, kippeh – having made a modest start, please share your own favourite versions, and tips for cooking them. Or, indeed, where to go to order the best.
