Come with us on a tasting tour of Anaheim’s Little Arabia

LAist reporter Yusra Farzan and associate food editor Gab Chabran recently visited one of Yusra's favorite SoCal neighborhoods. Here's where they went, and what they ate.

Yusra: When I moved to Southern California seven years ago, I lived on the Westside. Anytime I craved shawarma or manakeesh, I would be disappointed when I looked up “Arab” restaurants on Yelp. They were ethnically ambiguous, with kebabs, hummus and wraps masquerading as a region so rich in culture, history and most important to my belly, food.

Then I learned about Little Arabia.

On a stretch of Brookhurst Street, my heart sang. Here, I could tell which restaurant was Egyptian because they had terms like hawawshi and mahshi korom.

Shawarma wasn’t just a wrap stuffed with vegetables, pickles and charred meat; instead, the meat was full of flavor and the star of the show, taking me back to nights in Sharjah in the United Arab Emirates where I would devour shawarmas from a little Lebanese bakery at the Yasmin intersection.

(I never knew the name of the place, you almost never do and it has since closed but they made the best shawarmas. Period.)

And so I proposed a tasting tour to Gab because the world needs to know about my little food paradise. It’s too good not to share. I suggested going on a Friday, because after the afternoon Jummah prayers, a lot of the community makes their way to the Anaheim/Garden Grove area. This means specialty dishes make an appearance on the menus.

Gab: I’d only been to Little Arabia a few times recently since moving to nearby Long Beach, and each time, I was taken by the depth of culture. So when Yusra suggested that we try different dishes from some of the nations represented in the neighborhood, I knew I was in for a real treat.

Nadoosh Shawarma

The chicken shawarma wrap at Nadoosh Shawarma.

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Yusra: My first taste of Nadoosh Shawarma was a single bite in the wee hours of the morning at the Islamic Society of Orange County after Qiyam prayers during Ramadan. The food truck had closed up and left but a friend was kind enough to share a single bite. The chicken was not charred, the spices not burnt. Instead the flavor came through as did the hint of smokiness from the spit. And thus began my quest (shout out to my friend Yasmine whose help I enlisted) to find this shawarma. Yasmine took me to one restaurant, dropped a few names but that was not it. Then one late night while scrolling on Instagram I came across Nadoosh. This was it. My second time trying it, I was not disappointed.

The shawarma is slender and simple at this Palestinian-owned food truck, not overstuffed and busy. Meat is paired with tahini sauce while chicken is paired with toum, a velvety garlic sauce — this distinction is key. Red onions and flecks of parsley are a must with meat while chicken shawarma without pickles is a travesty — Nadoosh ticks all these boxes and more. It's relatively new and I am reluctantly sharing my best-kept secret, so sahtein!

Gab: Street food in SoCal is so varied. Yes, plenty of places take up your social media feed, but it was so refreshing to see a place that honored its traditional Middle Eastern roots smack dab in Little Arabia. The soft flatbread was rolled tightly with the expertly cooked chicken, with the perfect caramelization on its edges. The beef was mixed with acidic brine from the pickles and red onions, all topped with a deliciously creamy tahini sauce.

House of Mandi

House of Mandi, a Yemeni restaurant in Little Arabia specializing in mandi, a dish of meat and rice traditionally cooked in a pit.

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Yusra: You know how you have those restaurants on your weekly roster and those whiny children who exclaim, “Not again!” when you suggest one of those said restaurants? I was that child for a long time, because in our home, we would eat mandi so often. And now, as an adult I regret and miss those times my family and I would gather around to enjoy mandi, a Yemeni dish where meat and rice are slow cooked in delicate spices. It’s a great meal for a family because it's a communal meal.

In the UAE where I grew up, it's so common to see families or large groups at mandi restaurants on a Friday at lunch time after prayers.

Lamb mandi at House of Mandi

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You sit cross-legged on “Majlis sofas,” low lying sofas with this large plate in front of you, where in the middle of yellow, spiced rice accentuated with plump golden raisins and crispy shards of deep-fried onion slices sit tender lamb or chicken that falls off the bone depending on your preference. The dish's richness is cut by the spicy tomato and chili sauce it's paired with, shatta as they call it. For those with a low spice tolerance, the cold yogurt and mint sauce beckons, but not to me. I want extra helpings of shatta.

Little Arabia in Anaheim.

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Gab: I can honestly say that I’ve never been to a place like House of Mandi. Immediately entering the restaurant, I saw groups of families sitting on the sofas enjoying a meal together. The sofas were extremely comfortable. My daughter was along for the ride that day and loves taking her shoes off any chance she gets them, so it was perfect.

We immediately both felt extremely comfortable because of the delicious food and the hospitality. The large plates of chicken, rice and lamb contain multitudes of great flavors that tasted familiar and new simultaneously. While it was a lot of food, it still gave the impression of a light meal that complimented our surroundings.

Forn Al Hara

Forn Al Hara, a Lebanese restaurant in Little Arabia

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Yusra: Forn Al Hara specializes in manoushe (or manakeesh, plural), which is to the Arab world what burritos are to Californians. You can eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, or even at 1 a.m.; there are no rules with manakeesh except that the bread dough has to be rolled thin but still have enough body to hold the different toppings. For breakfast, I prefer the herbaceous za’atar which has a zing from the sumac. Pro-tip: ask for labneh or jibneh (a cheese that is sort of a cross between halloumi and mozzarella) on the side. I dip the za’atar manoushe in labneh and olive oil sometimes or add the cheese and pickled turnips as toppings for the days I want a salty hit.

Gab: This was my second time at Forn Al Hara, but each time I visit, I’m struck by the ambiance they manage to achieve within their space. The informal atmosphere makes it feel like a neighborhood pizza shop. Which is, in part, because it offers pizzas. The manoushe is soft and warm when it arrives, making it feel extra special. The spices, such as the extremely fresh-tasting za'atar drizzled with quality olive oil and a sprinkling of lemon that is served on the side, provide for a distinct experience. But it also offers a variety of delicious flatbreads, like labneh with honey, as well as Safeeya, another favorite of mine, made with lamb meat soaked in yogurt and spices, that delivers an extra delicious tangy flavor that I found to be extremely memorable.

A za'atar manoushe pulled out from the hearth oven at Forn Al Hara

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Za'atar, lahem bel ajeen, labneh and honey, and safiyah manakeesh at Forn Al Hara

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Al Tannour

Masgouf zbeidi, an Iraqi grilled carp dish, at Al Tannour

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Yusra: Meat and chicken tend to dominate conversations around Arabian food but given the region’s close proximity to water bodies, seafood dominates some regional cuisines including Gazan, Emirati and Iraqi. So Al Tannour had to be a part of our food tour, specifically for Masgouf Zbeidi.

The grilled fish made its way to the table, the crisp, spicy and golden outside belying the soft flesh on the inside that yielded to our forks without any resistance.

Al Tannour, an Iraqi restaurant in Little Arabia

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Al Tannour, an Iraqi restaurant in Little Arabia

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Pita is ubiquitous to the Arab world but the region is also home to papery thin regag, sponge-like taboon and the mini boat-shaped samoon. At Al Tannour, we were treated to a bread that is typically made in a “tannour” or clay oven. This bread was a staple in our home growing up in the UAE. The bakeries are small — the size of a window — with a man typically squatting in front of the oven shaping the dough. He will then use a long metal stick to cook the dough on the oven walls. In our home, we ate this bread with everything: Sri Lankan chicken curry, labneh and za’atar, peanut butter and jelly and masgouf. Forget spoons, tear a piece of the bread and use it to coax the soft flesh of the fish off the bone and then use it as a scoop.

Gab: I had a wonderful experience here. It felt as if we were in someone’s living room. The dish masgouf zbeidi, one of the only seafood dishes, very much reminded me of another dish from Mexican cuisine called pescado zarandeado. Similarly, it’s a grilled butterflied fish that’s rubbed and then grilled. The Iraqi recipe is made with carp instead of red snapper, and consumed with tannour bread instead of tortillas. I could have eaten the whole thing but unfortunately, I was starting to get very full at this point.

El Mahroosa

Mombar (Egyptian sausage), kebda eskandarani (Egyptian liver), pickles, and pita at El Mahroosa in LIttle Arabia

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Yusra: Life of the party, the center of attention, the light that everyone gravitates towards — that’s what Egyptian food is like. When the rest of the region calls a dish one name, the Egyptians do it differently. Egypt is born to stand out and so does its cuisine. Gelatinous molokhia (jute leaves stew) is served with a grilled piece of chicken, bamia (an okra and tomato stew with the most tender lamb) and my personal favorite, the kebda eskandarani, peppery morsels of liver served with pillowy puffs of pita. As for the sausage, I will let Gab weigh in.

El Mahroosa, an Egyptian restaurant and hookah lounge

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Gab: What I learned during this trip was that anytime there’s a daily special that’s being offered with your visit, you should order that. A case in point was the sausage that the owner encouraged us to try. It’s called mombar and is made with sheep casing stuffed with beef sausage meat, rice, tomatoes, onion, garlic, coriander, oil, and spices. The flavor was exceptional, and again, I could barely stop eating it. Yet we still had one more place to try.

Al Baraka

Mansaf at Al Baraka in Little Arabia

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My memories of Palestinian food are in friends' homes: the dance to flip the maqluba, the heaping servings of mansaf, sneaking dawali (grape leaves) before dinner is served.

So, walking into Al Baraka I was a little apprehensive. Would it give me the comfort and camaraderie of having dinner at a friend’s home? Any feelings of apprehension were soon dispelled when Aref Mohammad, the owner, took Gab’s and my order, and later, when he brought over juicy slices of watermelon and qahwah to wash down our meal, and introduced us to other business owners in the area as though we were longtime friends.

Msakhan, which is tannour bread drenched in olive oil and chicken stock layered with caramelized yet tart purple onions (plus the tartness from the sumac), as well as half a chicken that was literally falling apart and almond slivers, sat next to the maqlouba. Mohammad’s version of maqlouba — a highly personalized dish, families can have a different take — came with deep fried eggplant, cauliflower and chicken delicately seasoned with allspice and cumin.

Al Baraka in Little Arabia

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My favorite dish, however, was one I had never eaten, that Mohammad recommended we get: charshat (stuffed lamb tripe and trotters). The charshat had been cooked down so beautifully that our knives cut right through it as though it were a soft-boiled egg.

Gab: This was another place where the hospitality from the owners, Aref and his wife, chef Layla, made us instantly feel welcome. Aref was worried we were ordering too much food, which I found highly endearing, but Yusra and I told him we were journalists and wanted to get a little taste of everything. I, too, was taken by the charshat dish, which was another daily special that day. It was one of the most memorable dishes I’ve had this year, and I can’t wait to visit again with friends.

Another thing I was struck by is that Aref had opened up his front outdoor space to two pop-ups, another shawarma vendor (Kimo Catering) and another one selling knafeh (Knafeh Kingdom), the spun phyllo dough-like pastry between a helping of stretchy white cheese. Both vendors had family members in Palestine who had fled to Egypt, and they were raising money to send back to them. Seeing how these folks participated in these small acts was heartwarming, hoping for a better future for their brethren.