1. Sfiha"

History

Sfiha holds a special place in the Levant (and in my heart). You’ll commonly hear the terms “sfiha” and “lahm bi ajeen”used interchangeably, but think of them as two branches of the same tree, differing mainly in appearance. A sfiha is a small, open-faced meat pie, usually bite-sized, with the dough pinched at the four corners to create a square. A lahm bi ajeen, on the other hand, is larger; think of it as the size of a small pizza.

The roots of this dish run deep. The oldest surviving Arabic cookbook, the 10th-century Kitab al-Tabikh (The Book of Dishes) by Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq, includes a recipe called “Khubz Mushahha.” This was a flatbread topped with minced meat, herbs, and tail fat, confirming that the practice of baking meat on dough, rather than inside it, is at least a thousand-year-old Levantine tradition.

As time went by, the dish evolved during the Ottoman period (1516–1918). Ottoman tax records and city guild logs in Damascus and Aleppo show the rise of the farran (specialized bakers) who focused specifically on meat-topped doughs. Baalbek became a hub for the dish because it sat on a primary trade route between Damascus and the coast. Additionally, the high altitude and sheep-herding culture of the Bekaa Valley provided high-quality liyyeh (lamb tail fat), which became a soul-element of the dish. The city became legendary for its version, which gave rise to the famous name “sfiha baalbakiye.”

Originally, sfiha relied on verjuice (sour grape juice) or dibs el ruman (pomegranate molasses) for its acidity. It wasn’t until the late 1700s and early 1800s that tomatoes were introduced to the region via trade from South America. Once they arrived, tomatoes were integrated into the mixture, and that bright, acidic flavor became the standard we know today.

Of course, some regions still prefer the original way. In Syria, you’ll often find sfiha made without any tomatoes at all. This history explains why we see so many variations today; it all depends on which tradition a family chose to carry forward. Did they stick to the ancient roots, or did they adapt as new produce entered the land?

In a beautiful twist of history, sfiha made its way to Brazil via Levantine immigrants (mostly Lebanese and Syrian). They settled in São Paulo, and from there, the dish spread across the entire country, where it is known as “esfiha.” It has come full circle: in exchange for their tomatoes, we gave them a whole new dish to call their own.

Like many Levantine staples, sfiha can be enjoyed for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or even just a snack. My favorite way to eat it? Squeeze on some fresh lemon juice, add a dash of cayenne pepper, with a side of a cold glass of laban ayran. Wow, wow, wow. It is truly one of my favorite things in the world.

Before finalizing this recipe, I texted my mom to ask for her secrets. If you have an Arab mom, you know the drill: I received five voice notes, each a minute long, listing ingredients with absolutely no measurements. It was more of a philosophy: “just add enough until it feels right.” Using her “guide,” I experimented until I developed the recipe I’m sharing with you today.

She also gave me a brilliant tip: adding yogurt to the dough. This results in a softer, fluffier texture and adds a subtle tang similar to a sourdough culture.

I hope you enjoy making this recipe as much as I did. Cheers!