I am not a fun person to go with to a Lebanese restaurant in London. Even if I’m not doing a review, I am sure to be highly critical. There have been many occasions when friends have cooed over the food saying things like “ooh that is lovel…” and then stopped in mid sentence when they saw the disappointed look on my face. It’s because of what they represent to me. They are showing the world what our rich culinary heritage looks like- all of our reputations are at stake here, it’s a matter of national pride. Our food is worth boasting about, I don't take kindly to any establishment that does anything to sully that.
So imagine the pressure that the staff at Annab were under when I turned up, with not one but THREE other Arab luminaries of food to try their restaurant. Ladies who, I suspected, were as difficult to please as I am. Don’t worry, I wasn’t about to take an enormous gamble, I had already been thrice and knew that their food was good. I was there to offer them the opportunity to boast. They took it and made me proud.
First, let me tell you a bit about my lunch companions. Amoul (@amoultweets) is a Lebanese chef who single handedly ran her own restaurant “Amoul’s” in Maida Vale for 15 years. A restaurant that received high praise from top critics and became a favourite of all who visited- including me. Nahed Alfar came all the way from Cardiff for our lunch at Annab, she’s a British-Jordanian-Palestinian content creator, recipe writer and cookery demonstrator (@cooking.journey), and finally Soha Darwish (@sohadarwish_food), a British-Egyptian food writer, restaurant consultant and food blogger.
Co-owner Bachir Baaklini was there (along with his business partner, Gjulnara Nasserelddinee) to welcome us and as soon as he saw me going through the menu, came over and suggested that I leave it with him, no need to order. That initial gesture won us over. He made us feel as if we had come for lunch in his own house, his valued guests. That is a trademark of Lebanese hospitality, it’s a given- it doesn’t wow us. But if it’s missing, I am tempted to walk right out, I stop caring about how good the food may or may not be.
In no time, the table was groaning under the pressure of the multitude of colourful and tempting dishes that filled it from end to end. From tabbouleh to shanklish, cheese rkakat and kibbé balls, everything you might hope for in a traditional mezze was there. Baba ghanouj is for me the standard bearer of a Lebanese restaurant. You have to taste the smokiness of the charred aubergine, it can’t be over salted or heavy on garlic and the texture has to be not too dense nor too runny, easy to scoop up in a cone of wafer thin khoubz. Annab’s moutabbel was, like its hospitality, in the Goldilocks zone: “not too hot, not too cold, just right”. We barely had any room left for their plat du jour, sayadieh, but it looked so appetising, we couldn’t resist. The fish was cooked beautifully, brown and crispy on the outside but soft and flaky on the inside, allowing the fork to glide through it. The rice which it rested on, luscious and soft, brimming with deeply rich and warm spices like cumin, cinnamon and caraway, was… just right. This dish is all about balancing delicate flavours and needs a chef with a light touch- luckily, chef Badih El Asmar has this thanks to his 22 years of experience working in Lebanese restaurants.
Good food like this paves the way for a truly memorable meal. You do need to add sparkling and meaningful company, which we were fortunate to have in bulk. My gratitude to Annab and these lovely ladies for reminding me just how much we have to boast about in our rich culture.
Angela Zaher is a freelance writer based in London. Her articles have been published in The Evening Standard, Delicious, Platinum, Good Housekeeping and The Brussels Times. She’s a columnist and writes regular restaurant reviews for luxury lifestyle magazine, Time & Leisure. She is on the Committee of the Guild of Food Writers. Find her on instagram @angela_zaher.
