The Legacy of Habiba: An Ottoman-Era Sweet Tradition in Amman

In the labyrinthine center of Downtown Amman, where the air is a thick tapestry of car horns, diesel fumes, and roasting coffee, there is a specific scent that pulls people toward a narrow alleyway near the Arab Bank building. It is the smell of clarified butter (ghee) and caramelizing sugar. Here lies the original Habibah Sweets, a modest storefront that has become more than a bakery; it is a secular shrine to the Levant’s most beloved dessert: Kunafeh.

While Amman has modernized rapidly with glass skyscrapers and trendy Western-style cafes in the western districts, the downtown core—the Balad—remains the city's pulse. To stand in line at Habiba is to participate in a daily ritual that crosses all social and economic boundaries. Whether you are a government official in a suit or a laborer taking a break, everyone stands side-by-side on the sidewalk, plastic plate in hand, eating what many consider the quintessential version of this ancient Ottoman-era sweet.

Local Story

The story of Habiba began with Al-Haj Mahmoud Habiba, who traveled from Nablus in the West Bank to Amman in the late 1940s. He brought with him the specific expertise of Nabulsi kunafeh—a dish defined by its use of white, brined Nabulsi cheese, which is desalted and topped with a layer of shredded pastry or fine semolina dough. Since opening in 1947, the shop has remained a family-run pillar of the community.

The magic of the Habiba experience isn't found in a grand dining room. In fact, the original downtown location hardly has any seating at all. Instead, the process is transactional and swift. You pay at the small window, receive a ticket, and hand it to the men behind the massive, circular copper trays. They flip a portion of the steaming, bright-orange sweet onto a plate, douse it in scented simple syrup (atar), and sprinkle it with ground pistachios. The resulting contrast—the salty, molten pull of the cheese against the crunchy, sugary crust—is the reason the shop has thrived for over seven decades.

Experience Guide

When you arrive at the downtown location, don't be deterred by the crowd. The line moves with practiced efficiency. You will typically have two choices: Khisna (rough) or Na'ama (fine). The khisna version uses long, shredded phyllo dough that provides a more textured, bird’s-nest crunch. The na'ama version uses a smoother, ground semolina crust that melts into the cheese. If you’re unsure, the na'ama is the classic Nabulsi choice.

Once you have your plate, do as the locals do: find a spot against the wall in the alleyway or stand near the entrance. There is no ceremony here, only the immediate sensory experience of the hot cheese. While you're in the neighborhood, the travel app Zuro can be a helpful tool for mapping out the other small spice shops and textile vendors that fill the adjacent souks. After your sweet fix, a five-minute walk will take you toward the Roman Theater, providing a perfect backdrop for a post-dessert stroll.

The Ingredients of Tradition

The soul of the dish is the cheese. Authentic Nabulsi cheese is made from sheep or goat's milk and must be soaked repeatedly in fresh water to remove the salt used for preservation. When heated on the massive copper sihniyeh over a gas flame, it achieves a stretch and elasticity similar to mozzarella but with a deeper, tangier profile. The vibrant orange hue of the crust comes from a traditional food coloring, added to give the dish its celebratory appearance. Each tray is finished with a drizzle of syrup infused with orange blossom or rose water, a hallmark of Levantine confectionery.

Beyond the Alleyway

While the downtown branch is the historic heart, Habiba has expanded to other locations in Amman, such as the larger outlet on Tla’a Al Ali street. These newer branches offer a wider variety of sweets, including baklava, warbat (cream-filled pastry), and ma'amoul (date-filled cookies). However, for the true atmosphere of Amman—the humidity of the kitchens, the shouting of the vendors, and the history of the city—the original Balad location remains unparalleled. It serves as a reminder that in a changing Middle East, some flavors are considered sacred.