Jordan

Sit down as a guest in Jordan and the food becomes a language of welcome. On a feast day out comes mansaf, the national dish and the whole point of the table: a wide platter layered with thin shraak bread and rice, crowned with lamb and soaked in a warm, tangy sauce of jameed — sun-dried yoghurt loosened back into something between broth and gravy — then scattered with fried almonds and eaten, by tradition, with the right hand from the shared dish.

Everyday eating is the wider Levantine spread. Breakfast is labaneh and olive oil, za’atar to dip warm khobez into, white cheese and endless small glasses of sweet tea. Street corners turn out falafel, hummus and shawarma carved off the spit, alongside maqluba — ‘upside-down’, a pot of rice, meat and fried vegetables flipped onto the plate at the table. Walk in the desert and a Bedouin will wave you over for tea before you’ve said a word; refusing, here, is the one thing that isn’t done.