Beef Kibbeh
Kibbeh & the Memory That Never Left
The first time I had kibbeh, it planted itself in my memory — and never left. I was fresh out of high school when I packed a bag and flew to Israel for a year, staying on a kibbutz up north to figure out what I wanted to do with my life (though deep down, I always knew I wanted to be a chef).
I had no money, but I was lucky — my uncle had married an Israeli woman and moved there years before, so I had a few connections. When I left the kibbutz to visit him, he took me around to his favourite street food spots and local restaurants. That’s where I truly fell in love with Middle Eastern food. The bold flavours, the spice, the generosity — I couldn’t get enough.
I don’t remember exactly where or when I first tasted kibbeh, but I’ll never forget the contrast: the crisp, golden shell giving way to a soft, savoury-sweet filling, all dipped into that unmistakable garlicky tahini sauce that came with nearly every street snack. I’d always wondered how they were made — and if I’d ever be able to make them myself.
Now, years later, living in the Overberg and cooking on my own terms, I finally took on the challenge. I researched the textures and techniques, the traditions across the Middle East, and what makes a kibbeh great. One thing I learned: the texture of the bulgur wheat matters. Too coarse, and it ruins the mouthfeel — so I took my time, tested a few approaches, and worked until I got it right.
And then I added something of my own. I remembered a hint of sweetness in that first bite, so I added chopped dates to the filling. It may not be strictly traditional, but it’s true to the memory that stuck with me. That’s what I love about cooking — especially now that I get to cook for myself again. Personal touches are allowed.
The result? These came out beautiful. Golden, crunchy, soft in the centre, subtly sweet and deeply savoury. I’m proud of them — and proud to share them with you.
Beef Kibbeh (Advanced Recipe)
A dish for those who love diving deep into the craft of cooking. This is a traditional favourite with bold spices, tender meat, and sweet-savory depth — a project worth gathering a few helping hands for. It’s tactile, flavour-packed, and completely rewarding once those golden shells hit the plate.
Stage 1: Kibbeh Dough
Ingredients:
500g beef mince
1½ cups bulgur wheat (soaked in 1 cup warm water)
100ml ice water
1 tbsp ground cumin
1 tbsp harissa paste or tomato paste
1 tbsp salt
1 tbsp black pepper
100g cake flour
Method:
In a stand mixer with a paddle attachment (or by hand), combine the soaked bulgur, beef mince, ice water, cumin, harissa, salt, and pepper.
Mix until smooth and sticky — it should start to come together as a thick paste.
Gradually add the cake flour and continue mixing until a firm, slightly sticky dough forms.
Cover and chill the dough in the fridge for at least 1 hour.
Stage 2: Filling
Ingredients:
500g beef mince
3 white onions, finely diced
2 garlic cloves, chopped
1 tsp ground cinnamon
100g dates, finely chopped
100g pine nuts, toasted
1 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp butter
Juice of 1–2 lemons
Salt and black pepper
Handful fresh parsley, chopped
Method:
In a wide pan, heat olive oil and butter. Add the beef mince and cook until lightly browned.
Add the onions and cook down slowly until soft and golden, about 10 minutes.
Stir in the garlic and cinnamon and let everything cook for another 5–10 minutes.
Add the lemon juice, dates, and pine nuts. Stir to combine and let simmer gently for 10 minutes.
Season well with salt and pepper. Finish with fresh parsley. Let the filling cool before shaping.
Assembly
Scoop golf ball-sized portions of dough and roll into smooth balls or rugby ball shapes.
Use your thumb to press a deep cavity into the centre of each ball.
Fill with a spoonful of the cooled filling and gently pinch and smooth to seal. Reshape if needed.
Heat oil to 160°C in a deep fryer or heavy-bottomed pot.
Fry kibbeh in batches until crisp and dark golden brown, around 5–6 minutes.
To Serve:
Serve hot with lemon wedges, tahini yoghurt sauce, or a red pepper dip. Best shared with friends, over good conversation and a glass of something cold.
