In Yemen, amidst incense, qat, and coffee, discovering what remains of Arabia Felix.

Even today, it remains unclear whether the Queen of Sheba was truly born in Ma’rib, on the edge of the desert in central Yemen, and whether she was the one who inspired Yemeni cuisine as we know it.

The Bible describes her visit to King Solomon, recounting that “she came to Jerusalem with a great caravan of camels carrying spices, much gold, and precious stones… never again did so many spices arrive as those given by the Queen of Sheba.” Regardless, thanks to the incense caravan route that traversed the country and continued through Saudi Arabia and Petra to the Mediterranean ports, the kingdom accumulated such wealth that it earned the title of Arabia Felix. It is a happy region, also due to its climate, especially in the mountains, where rainfall is scarce and the sun shines year-round. In the desert region extending to Hadramaut, however, temperatures can be scorching from May to September. The climate and landscape are different: green and fertile in the highlands, arid and rocky in the valleys. These variations also contribute to the diversity of Yemeni cuisine from region to region.

The independence that this territory enjoyed has led to the complete closure of the country and allowed the development of original artistic expressions, starting with the fairy-tale tower houses.

These buildings rise to four or five stories, with each level corresponding to a different degree of intimacy, increasing from the bottom up: on the ground floor, there are stables for the animals; above, storage rooms; then the quarters for the servants; a lounge for guests; the private apartments; and finally, the open terrace where women perform domestic tasks. It is also here that the mafraj, the richly decorated reception room, is located, furnished with large carpets and cushions neatly arranged along the walls. This is where men gather after lunch to chew the leaves of qat, an Ethiopian plant that has captivated Yemenis for over a century. With a mild relaxing and sedative effect, it is part of the region’s most deeply rooted habits. Women, who lead a secluded life separate from men—even within the home—are not allowed to participate in this ritual. They have their own gathering spaces, eat alone, and when there are guests, they become practically invisible.

Even today in Sana’a, men walk around with the jambiyyat, the traditional dagger with a curved blade that appears at puberty and accompanies every Yemeni man until his grave.

Outside the capital, the display of masculinity also requires a Kalashnikov slung over the shoulder: the still-vibrant tribal spirit assumes that a man must be “equipped” for the defense of himself and his people. While this may impress the Western visitor, it should not be misleading. The people are incredibly hospitable: simply approaching anyone who is eating will likely lead to an invitation to join them. In light of the significant commercial trades that have passed through the region—first incense, then coffee, and now tourism—the country has preserved its culture almost intact, including its culinary traditions, which maintain the characteristics of a medieval world, lacking the technological conveniences familiar to us but primarily tied to a partly nomadic society that has made the portability of food an essential necessity.

Yemenis consider chicken and fish to be foods for the poor.

In fact, they are much less expensive than lamb and mutton, but also more perishable and could not be taken on journeys with caravans. The Quran also suggests the meats of sheep. Freshly slaughtered, these meats are tough; the next day they become good and tender, but by the third day, they can be problematic, and by the fourth, they take on a suspicious greenish hue. Nomads consume them without any adverse effects, thanks to their stomachs’ acclimatization, as well as the fact that they are rarely carriers of infections, unlike pork, for example. Together with other transportable foods such as rice, dates, raisins, pistachios, grains, garlic, and spices (especially cumin, cardamom, black pepper, and cinnamon), they form the basic ingredients of Yemeni cuisine.

My guide through the intricacies of the local culinary tradition is Maha al Khulaidi, an Italian-Yemeni author of a book on the country’s cuisine and very active in preserving the cultural heritage of Yemen.

In introducing me to a typical day at the local table, she insists that I note every detail of this heritage of knowledge that is slowly disappearing due to contamination from Ethiopian and Indian influences. She acts as my host, guiding me through the intricacies of the local culinary tradition, insisting that every detail of this heritage of knowledge, which is slowly fading as it blends with Ethiopian and Indian influences, be recounted.

In the land of Sheba, forget about the ritual of the meal. It does not exist.

It does not exist in the Western sense as a gathering moment for the family or a group of friends; it does not occur at home or even at restaurants. This function is replaced by the afternoon qat session. At the table, you will sit on the floor on a mat, eating quickly and silently out of respect for the food, starting only after the eldest has begun and never without saying the bismillah (“in the name of God”). You will use your hands, or rather your right hand, as the left is considered unclean and reserved for ablutions; you will take from a communal plate, drink water or raisin juice, and at the end, you will thank God with the phrase alhamdulillah.

Meals consist of the three traditional ones: breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with the latter, unlike Western habits, being less elaborate, typically consisting of only leftovers from the first two.

The day begins with a hearty breakfast of sheep meat and foul (a puree of legumes and tomatoes with the addition of bread and spices). Sometimes, liver is preferred instead of meat, as it is considered lighter and thus more suitable for starting the day. Naturally, all of this is served on a bed of white or spiced rice, an inseparable accompaniment to every Yemeni dish, with the optional addition of cooked vegetables. One drinks qishr, the traditional infusion of coffee husks flavored with ginger, cinnamon, and cardamom, or milk tea with mint, often scented with cardamom.

Lunch is the central meal of the day. It begins with a meat broth, followed by a plate of rice with vegetables. The meat is served last, predominantly sheep and boiled (to reuse the broth), but can also be roasted or baked (wrapped in banana leaves). Bread is a constant presence on the table, available in various types but always unleavened. The most common is kudam, round and about a centimeter thick, made with a mixture of flours that varies depending on what is available at the time. It is the “travel bread,” carried by merchants and caravaners during their journeys across the deserts. Then there’s malawah, perhaps imported by the Ethiopians during an invasion along with qat plants, which is better than the first, also round and best served warm. Another popular type of bread is khabz, which is cooked after being rolled into a thin sheet of dough and thrown against the walls of a wood-fired oven, where it sticks. It is eaten hot, sprinkled with cumin seeds.

Some of the dishes served at lunch are specialties considered “national.” One of these is salta.

If you order it (the small restaurants around the market serve it for just over a euro), you will be presented with a black stone pot just taken off the fire, containing a thick, frothy liquid of yellowish color that is boiling. Not particularly inviting. While waiting for that molten lava to cool down, you will be served shafut, which accompanies every lunch. Consider it an appetizer. It consists of a dip called sahawak, made with yogurt or cheese, accompanied by malawah, the perforated bread of Ethiopian origin.

In the meantime, your stone pot will have cooled, and the *salta* will reveal itself as a delicious soup made from meat broth, whole boiled eggs, spicy seasonings, beans, and rice, all harmoniously tied together with *trigonella*, also known as fenugreek, an aromatic herb with characteristic triangular leaves that, once dried, is ground into a powder (yellowish in color), becoming the true leitmotif of Yemeni cuisine. Folk tradition holds that this dish has a mild laxative effect, useful in countering the opposite effect caused by *qat*.

Alternatively, you can order kibsah, spiced rice with pieces of goat meat, or saibyah, the same dish but made with fish. Around the qat market in Sana’a, there are stalls serving hanid, pieces of spiced goat meat cooked in a wood-fired oven and traditionally wrapped in banana leaves, often today replaced with aluminum. A meal like this costs about one and a half euros.

But when dining at home or at banquets, it is customary to serve a sweet dish after the meat to “cleanse the palate.”

It is effectively a dessert and will be delightful when paired with milk tea and mint. There are two possible choices: fattah, typical of the south, which consists of bread mixed with butter, banana, and honey served warm; and bint al-sahan, typical of the north, also known as “the girl of the plate.” It is a cake made with honey, flour, and eggs, composed of extremely thin layers of dough layered on top of each other, sprinkled with anise seeds, served warm and exclusively at lunch.

Since the meal is not a ritual, various types of snacks are also common—a sort of street food available at all hours and everywhere.

There are many options, ranging from djerra, spiced roasted locusts, to the inviting sambusa, triangular fried pastries filled with a mixture of ground meat, onion, and spices. The sambusa, along with other traditional snacks, can be sampled with much greater hygiene and presentation in the bar that the lovely Maha will open in Sana’a to provide visitors with a complete experience, including the gastronomic aspect.