Hallab Satisfies Lebanon's Sweet Cravings
The confectionery Abdul-Rahman Hallab and Sons is a veritable institution in Lebanon’s second city, Tripoli, that has been whetting and sating people’s appetites with its sweets and pastries for over a century.
Sweets and pastries are known collectively in Arabic as helwiyat, and the Hallab family, originally milkmen and dairy farmers – hence the last name, which means “milkman”– have been baking their famous helwiyat for special occasions and casual consumption alike since 1881. In the process, the Hallab confectionery has blossomed into a business that exports its produce around the world.
Over the years, the business has evolved and assimilated modern trends while maintaining a commitment to the core recipes that initially made the venture successful.
“We place emphasis on maintaining traditional methods for a traditional taste,” advertising manager Ziad Jabbara explains. “Tradition is part of the culture and heritage that got us where we are now. We don’t modify the essence but make improvements to go with modern trends.”
During Ramadan, the Qasr al-Helou (Palace of Sweets) on Riad al-Solh Street becomes a hive of activity, as consumers flock to the establishment to purchase helwiyat for inclusion in iftar meals. Production manager Amer Omar says that there is a four-fold increase in demand during the Muslim holy month.
It is also a time during which the confectionery sticks to tried-and-true formulas. “Ramadan and Eid are traditional occasions and therefore the sweets on people’s tables should reflect this,” Jabbara maintains.
Omar agrees, and recommends two delicacies: baklawa – made of layers of filo pastry filled with chopped nuts and sweetened with syrup or honey – the modern incarnation of which is said to have been developed in the Topkapi Palace in Ottoman Turkey; and maamoul, the saccharine oval-shaped cookie made from a mixture of flour, semolina and rosewater filled with walnuts, pistachios or dates.
Omar observes that maamoul is a popular delicacy throughout the Levant, but stresses that the Tripolitan variety outshines all others, and posits a special relationship between Tripoli and sweet-making. It is a relationship shaped by the location of the city, the origins of which can be traced to 1,400 B.C. and a historical trade route where cultures, ideologies and cooking recipes have met, clashed and amalgamated over centuries.
However, it is not merely the vibrancy of Tripoli’s cultural heritage that lends itself to crafting mouthwatering sweets; according to Omar, the climate happens to be perfect for the endeavor.
An additional variety of helwiyat that both Jabbara and Omar suggest should be part of any Eid banquet is qashta cream products, traditionally made by skimming the top of boiling milk and combining it with flour and either rose or orange blossom water.
Different varieties include: qashta halawit-al-jubn – made from a mixture of semolina, cheese, sugar syrup, rose water and qashta; mafroukeh, made from semolina, butter ghee, milk and sugar topped with a generous helping of almonds, pine kernels, pistachios and qashta; ward al-sham (Damascene rose) – a form of mini-qashta sandwich garnished with pistachios, orange blossom and sugar syrup; and the questionably named zind al-sitt (lady’s forearm) – a kind of sweet spring roll lightly fried and filled with qashta that tastes much better than its name would suggest.
All qashta is produced on site rather than outsourced, and Jabbara and Omar emphasize that qashta is a particularly Tripolitan tradition, noting that it originally came into existence due to an excess in milk production in the area, which led people to experiment with different ways of consuming it. It is a product with which the Hallabs are intimately connected through the family’s background in dairy farming.
On the topic of the distinctiveness of Lebanese sweets, Omar says that there are similar helwiyat in other Arab cultures – citing knafeh, the cheese pastry soaked in sweet syrup believed to originate in Nablus, Palestine – but insists that “the relationship between sweet-making and Tripoli is unique. The natural elements and the weather complement the sweet production. When we send our products to other branches they do not feel as at home as in Tripoli.”
Jabbara’s suggestion that his colleague may be romanticizing the relationship between Tripoli and sweet-making is dismissed by Omar with a shake of the head, confident as he is of the legitimacy of his suppositions.
But on the subject of Hallab’s popularity and reputation for excellence, Jabbara is just as laudatory and confident as Omar: “People trust the company and its produce because of its history and evolution as a family business that has maintained traditional quality and taste.”
Martin Armstrong
The Daily Star