In a kingdom famous for its ancient ruins and desert landscapes, the food scene is shaping up to be the next big attraction.

*Left to right:* Shoppers at the Wast Al Balad spice market in downtown Amman; Ahmad Alomari foraging for wild fennel at his olive farm near Umm Qais. (Photos: Leisa Tyler)

Ahmad Alomari’s favorite foraging spot overlooks a world of trouble. To the left, the Sea of Galilee, site of the 1960s War over Water between Israel and its Arab neighbors. To the right, civil war–torn Syria. Ahead, the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights. But conflicts of the Promised Land seemed far removed from Ahmad’s pretty olive farm outside Umm Qais, a small town in the highlands of northwestern Jordan. Rooted in rich volcanic soil, the gnarled trunks of his centuries-old trees rise from a sea of wild fennel, caper berries, dandelion, asparagus, carob, and heirloom wheat.

Alomari was born amid the ruins of nearby Gadara, once among the great Greco-Roman cities of ancient Palestine. Aside from guiding visitors through the archaeological site, these days he also collaborates with community-based tour operator Baraka Destinations to lead hiking and foraging excursions in the area.

We had spent the morning gathering dandelion, fennel, and freshly harvested chickpeas for a traditional lunch at Beit Na’ela, a guesthouse run by sisters Na’ela and Nawal Al Akhash. In their kitchen, the two were cooking up a heap of Jordan’s national dish, mansaf—lamb or, in our case, chicken baked in a tangy sauce made from jameed (Bedouin-style dried fermented yogurt) and served on a communal platter with fluffy Arabian rice. Sitting on carpets around a low table, we happily devoured it all, along with hummus, lentil soup, and pickled eggplants.

I was on a whirlwind food tour of Jordan set up by Nico Dingemans, a Dutch hotelier and culinary tourism expert who first arrived here in 2019 on a short-term consultancy project with the country’s main winemaker, Jordan River. Stranded by the pandemic and now based in the hilly Jordanian capital of Amman, he has spent the last few years delving into local food history and working with the national tourism board to try to elevate Jordan’s profile as a culinary destination. One of his current projects is From Farm to Fork in Jordan, an extensive coffee-table book that will spotlight Jordanian ingredients, recipes, chefs, and farmers.

He’s got plenty to work with. Recent years have seen a slew of young chefs and artisanal food producers come to the fore. Political stability also helps. “Jordan has all the ingredients for becoming a strong culinary tourism destination,” Dingemans said. “It’s authentic and isn’t a basket case like some of its neighbors. As the heart of the Fertile Crescent, Jordan is the best place to tell the story of Levantine cuisine.”

Tasting local vintages at JR The Wine Experience in Amman. (Courtesy of Jordan River)

As all good food tours should, mine started at the market. Two days earlier in downtown Amman, Dingemans led me through the Wast Al Balad area, where souk stalls sold everything from fresh chickpeas and courgettes to loquats and pickled almonds that are eaten whole, shells and all. Some stalls roasted peanuts or coffee, others flaunted dunelike mounds of za’atar, a blend of dried thyme, sumac, and sesame seeds that is mixed with olive oil and spread over bread. We sampled mastic ice cream and calorific kunafa—a dessert made with layers of cheese and pastry drenched in rose-water syrup—then washed away the sugar rush with strong shots of Yemeni coffee.

Our next stop was JR The Wine Experience, Jordan River’s tasting room on upscale Abdali Boulevard. As elsewhere in the Fertile Crescent, viticulture in Jordan dates back thousands of years. Some say the wine served to Jesus and his disciples at the Last Supper came from Umm Qais. Mostly grown in basalt-rich soils, the grapes that go into Jordan River wines impart a distinct minerality. We sipped an acidic chardonnay blended with Spanish albariño grapes, then a fresh rosé, heavy with white pepper and berries. But the standout was the 2019 Shiraz Reserve, a gutsy little drop high in tannins and quite the bargain at about US$24.

Next came a tasting of another age-old agricultural product. A certified olive oil sommelier and co-founder of Maida Olive Oil, Amelia Bilbeisi told us that the origins of all olive varieties, except Greek, could be traced back to the Levant; genomic testing on an olive tree in the north of Jordan revealed it to be the ancestor of several olive species in Italy and Spain, no doubt exported by the Romans. Yet Jordan only produces olive oil for domestic use. This was the impetus for Bilbeisi and her father to establish a 120-hectare farm in the Jordanian desert, with the goal of creating one of the world’s best olive oils. It seems to be working: Maida is now served in multiple five-star hotels and Michelin-starred restaurants around the world. I tried their extra-virgin oil pressed from arbequina olives. It was sweet and smelled like tomato plants after a rain.

A Bedouin man roasts coffee beans in Wadi Feynan; fukharat jaj—chicken with coriander and vegetables baked in a clay pot—at Jordanian restaurant Sufra in Amman. — *Left to right:* A Bedouin man roasts coffee beans in Wadi Feynan; *fukharat jaj*—chicken with coriander and vegetables baked in a clay pot—at Jordanian restaurant Sufra in Amman. (Photos: Leisa Tyler)

After our visit to Umm Qais, we headed south through the Jordan Valley. The five-hour drive skirted the eastern edge of the Dead Sea before bringing us to Wadi Feynan, a wild desert valley of auburn outcrops and arid gravel plains. Petra, the ancient Nabataean capital and Jordan’s top tourist draw, is another 40 kilometers down the road.

Part of the Dana Biosphere Reserve, Feynan has been home to countless generations of Bedouin. It’s difficult to fathom how they manage to eke out a living in this unforgiving landscape—the area receives an average of just 60 millimeters of rain per year. But survive they do, subsisting on trade and the products yielded by their camels and sheep.

Stopping at the edge of the desert, we switched to a rusty four-wheel-drive vehicle for the bumpy ride to Feynan Ecolodge (from US$215 a night), dust billowing in our wake. First established by Jordan’s Royal Society for the Conservation of Nature, the 26-room hotel is now the epitome of Bedouin hospitality, with sand-hued walls studded with stone slabs that help mitigate the desert heat. It’s solar-powered and entirely off the grid; at night, the lodge is lit by hundreds of candles crafted by the local community.

We dropped our bags and headed off with our guide, Ali, to visit a nearby Bedouin camp. The patriarch, a weathered man with a grizzled beard and head wrapped in a checkered keffiyeh, welcomed us with coffee made from Yemeni beans roasted over a fire. Putting out the flames, he then kneaded and stretched some dough into a fat disk and buried it under the hot ash. When cooked, its crust blistered, the bread was divided among us as a symbol of our shared connection.

The Bedouins of Feynan are still semi-nomadic, retreating to the mountains each summer to graze their animals. But these days, they’re more reliant on old cars than camels. It’s part of a growing trend across the whole Middle East that has seen camel herding fall out of fashion.

Sufra’s dining room spreads across a restored heritage mansion. (Courtesy of Romero Group)

Maisa’s 72-hour fermented sourdough bread, made with fresh za’atar herbs and served with labneh; the same café’s namesake chef, Maisa Miqdadi. — *Left to right:* Maisa’s 72-hour fermented sourdough bread, made with fresh *za’atar* herbs and served with *labneh*; the same café’s namesake chef, Maisa Miqdadi. (Courtesy of Maisa)

Back in Amman again, I met Sami Allawama, a social entrepreneur with Bedouin roots who is hoping to help reverse the trend through his company Camelera, which produces artisanal camel dairy products.

“Camel milk is a superfood,” Allawama declared, reeling off the liquid’s antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties, which are enhanced when fermented. “Their milk sustained empires. Without camels there would be no Petra, no trade, no Jordan as we know it.”

After trying a small bottle of his camel milk—much richer than cow’s milk, with a briny edge—I reckoned he was onto something. There was also young cheese, mild and slightly funky; and rich, creamy camel-milk chocolate pralines.

Then it was time to check out Amman’s restaurant scene. According to Dingemans, 15 years ago there was barely any scene at all, apart from hotel dining. Now, there’s a clutch of smart cafés and restaurants that showcase Jordanian ingredients. One of them is Maisa. Set among the bars, boutiques, and coffee shops of Rainbow Street, the all-day brunch spot uses only local, seasonal, and mostly organic produce in menu items like 72-hour fermented sourdough bread made with Umm Qais wheat and fresh za’atar herbs, accompanied by labneh and a fierce chili dip. Dara Dining, which inhabits a swishly renovated 1950s villa on the fringe of Zahran Park, follows the same principles but via an Italian-leaning Mediterranean menu that features things like smoked sujuk sausages and cheese made from the milk of local Awassi sheep.

Yet for my money, the best dining experience in town is Sufra. What sets it apart isn’t just the enormous array of dishes rarely found outside Jordanian homes—like dimseh, a cold meze of lentils with braised eggplant, garlic, tahini, and pomegranate molasses; or gallayeh, a spicy tomato stew with succulent cubes of lamb. It’s also the stunning setting inside an early-20th-century mansion, and the silver service waiters, and the old clay tandoors pumping out charred, crispy rounds of bread. Even the crockery dazzled.

“Jordan is on the cusp,” Sara Aqel, the petite thirtysomething chef at Dara Dining, told me during my dinner there. Aqel spent years helming high-end Italian restaurants in Dubai before coming home in 2023 to join the ranks of Jordan’s new culinary vanguard. “You watch. It will be one of the next big things.”

A spread of traditional breakfast mezze at Sufra. (Courtesy of Romero Group)

This article originally appeared in the June/July 2025 print issue of DestinAsian magazine (“Tasting Jordan”). Buy a single issue or subscribe here.

A Gastronomic Journey through Jordan

Stay inspired with our DestinAsian newsletters