It’s a shame. Jordan has its share of treasures, starting in its misunderstood capital city. Enjoy our favourite photos from our 12 days there.

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I saw more types of sweets than savoury dishes. It’s an intimidating constellation. Here are a few of my favourites and where to find the best of each.

Sahlab

A deceptively simple blend of milk, sugar, corn starch and rose water, it’s thick, warm, and more comforting than your mama’s hot cocoa on a winter night. When cooled, it congeals like gelatin and can be spooned as a dessert. Get creative with toppings: cinnamon, crushed nuts, shredded coconut, etc.

Best one: El-Mina, Lebanon
This seaside suburb of Tripoli has a little shop that specializes in warm liquid treats. Go to the Christian souk and ask around for it.

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Kneffeh

The edible equivalent of an oily four-hand massage given by two Arab beauties with roses in their hair. Fresh cheese is baked under semolina cake and the whole thing is drowned in sugar syrup. Served on a plate or to go in a sesame flatbread, it should be classified as a dangerous substance. Thankfully, it isn’t.

Best one: Jenin, West Bank
There’s an unassuming sweet shop called Shalhoub in the central shopping area of Jenin. Unlike regular knaffeh, they bake it in vermicelli pastry. The cheese is fresh  and gooey and the outside crispy.

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Halawet al-Jibn

It’s not a cannelloni, it’s akawi cheese and semolina flour pressed into sheets and rolled with ashta cream. Although bland on its own, it resembles a lighter cheesecake once you douse it with sugar syrup.

Best one: Tripoli, Lebanon
The Hallab family of Tripoli is famous for sweets. Lore says that after a nasty fight, the three Hallab brothers split up the family business, each running their own sweet empire. They are all fantastic, especially their cream-based sweets like halawet al-jibn.

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Halva/halawa

Whether in the Hebrew or Arabic domains, this dense, crumbly sesame paste is delicious on its own, topped with nuts or as a sweet dip with pita bread. For my money, the Israelis do it best.

Best one: West Jerusalem, Israel
I don’t like endorsing rude pricks, but one seller in Jerusalem’s Machane Yehuda market makes perfect halva with a scary flavour variety:  coffee, passion fruit, pomegranate, and nuts are just a few. Must spend a minimum of 40 shekels. Look for his stall near the wine shops. And brace for hostile service.

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Arabic ice cream

On the first spoonful you notice that the ice cream of the Arab world is different. It’s gooier and gummier, almost like a taffy. A key ingredient is Arabic gum, a resin form the mastic tree (not to be confused with gum arabic, with is derived from the acacia tree). Try the Arabic flavour, which tastes of nuts, rosewater, and sesame.

Best one: Ramallah, West Bank
There are many reasons to visit the Palestinian capital. The ice cream is just another. Try Baladna on Main St.

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Kataif

It looks like a turnover, but it’s sweet and creamy. A crumpet-like pancake is filled with ashta cream, fried, and doused in syrup. Crispy on the outside, cool and buttery inside.

Best one: Damascus, Syria
Jasmatiyeh Street, which I dubbed the Las Vegas of sweets, has a line of shops offering fresh kataif. Try any of them.

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Namoura

You can spot this simple semolina cake in any sweet shop by the almond placed atop each cut square. That’s the traditional way. Some shops, however, add their own poetry by tinkering with the density and toppings.

Best one: Aleppo, Syria
The Aleppan version of namoura is the closest you’ll come to dark matter. You could power a hyperspace engine on it. It’s impossibly chunky, gooey, and layered with pistachios and cashews.

Perspective A

Amman is a lousy city for traveling

Amman is little more than a large Arab suburb. The political stability that makes Jordan stand out among its neighbours seems seems to mirror its cultural life: it’s subdued, colourless, indifferent compared with other Middle Eastern capitals.

A grey city that once had an exciting past, Amman is a cluster of cinder-block homes with a marginally interesting historic citadel, which can be seen in little more than one hour. It may have a Roman amphitheatre, but what historically significant Mediterranean city doesn’t?

Its souk can hardly be called that. It’s just a strip of shops selling the same old: perfumes, headscarves, spices, sheeshas, and bootleg DVDs. It’s a city that has renounced an identity, and is content with Levantine mediocrity in its older quarters and Western mediocrity in its newer neighbourhoods.

Perspective B

Amman is a fantastic city for traveling

The bane of the adventurous traveller is a city that makes everything too easy. Signs pointing to the main attractions and little sidewalk arrows may seem helpful but they betray a kind of civic insecurity. It’s as if the city is saying: Hey, my only nice parts are these old stones here. Please don’t look at my other features.

Amman is a nice reversal to that way of thinking. It’s a city that invites aimless exploration in the hope of finding hidden jewels. And the rewards are there.

Let’s start with the Jabal al-Qal’a , the citadel, its most prominent attraction. It may seem unremarkable compared to citadels in other Middle Eastern cities, but the charm is in the details. For one, it’s the best-curated old city. Every little feature has a plaque describing its history and function. For the budget traveler who can’t afford a human tour guide at each stop, this lets you marvel at its importance, rather than dismissing it as just another pile of old stones.

The archaeology museum therein is also elegantly arranged and packed with impressive artifacts dating back 4,000 years or more.

And before you have a chance to think it’s all too tidy, it tosses in a touch of chaos: you might turn a stone wall and happen on a musical duo of two Palestinian men. One with a drum, the other a bagpipe. Playing Yankee Doodle and other local classics.

Downtown
If coming from neighbouring countries, the commercial strip in central Amman is a faint echo of the massive souqs in, for example, Syria. But again, it’s in the details. Amman’s souvenir shops are the biggest and most complete, giving you a single stop for ornaments, rugs, coffee makers, fabrics, furniture and sheesha.

Speaking of the narguileh, Amman specializes in creative tobacco blends. Beside the classic flavours of apple, lemon, mint, and melon, you’ll find shops with dozens of mixes: fruit cocktails, mojito, bubble gum, anise-infused concoctions.

Honest spice mongers anywhere in the Middle East concede that Jordan makes the best zaatar, a spice mix of thyme, sesame seeds, and sumac, popular on savoury breads or as a dip with olive oil.

And Amman has impressive zaatar shops, some boasting a dozen or so unique blends.

Like any city that’s serious about being a commercial contender, Amman is working to boost its entertainment offerings. The city has recently launched a cultural incentive program to increase the number of performances.

You might get lucky, like we did, and catch a free show with musicians, dancers, and orators.

Young Amman
From the First Circle and down Rainbow St. you see Amman’s young creative forces at work. Nowhere else in the Arab countries we visited we saw restaurants that do fresh twists on old classics: shawarmas with Greek, Indian and Mexican flavours at Shawarmize It!

Bookshops, crafts galleries and cozy cafés cater to the expat crowd with Western touches, and it’s all worth exploring.

And when you reach the end of the street and Amman’s blocky hills and valleys come back into view, a serendipitous right turn takes you to Beit Shuqair, a restaurant that roomates with crafts shops and whose classic Arabic dishes rival the best of Syria. A baker that pumps out fresh bread and an oud bard make this a perfect setting to watch the city from above.