Middle East meets Freo in authentic retelling of Levant dining

It was a warm morning. Hot even. Not Australian hot in that furnace-like way of an Aussie summer. Mediterranean hot. We had arrived at a restaurant in Jericho just before midday after a short drive from Jerusaleum.

Jericho was dusty and dry and biblically stunning in its setting near the Jordan River.

Our restaurant served middle eastern and Arabic dishes and perhaps one of the finest salads I have eaten.

On reflection and with the rose-tinted glasses packed away, it was probably a little too basic, but the tomatoes, cucumbers, mint leaves and olives were champion ingredients dressed like a catwalk model in an olive oil and lemon juice emulsion fragrant with garlic.

That salad has stayed in my mind for three decades because the experience was pinch-yourself amazing. The Arab owners were delightful, smiling, helpful and happy to see us. There was also meat on skewers, grilled over coals and cold pomegranate juice.

You can’t hear the bombs in Jericho.

The most chilling sound is that of air raid sirens wailing over a city. A few bombs went off at a distance from my flat in Tel Aviv that night. Ambulance sirens added to the soundtrack of the thousands of years-long dispute, made modern with suicide bombers and explosives in parked delivery vans. The sirens ululated demonically well into the night. One felt sadness not fear.

Eating out in Israel and Lebanon was difficult in those days. To get to Lebanon you had to first fly to Cyprus from Tel Aviv, swap over to your second passport – the one without Israeli stamps in it – and board a plane for Beirut.

It was a fair schlep, even to cover a story, but for lunch … well, why would you? We did. A few times.

Which brings us to Sana in Fremantle. I knew nothing about this place, but its website had pictures of small bowls of salad, humus, meats, flat bread, bright colourful dishes and fresh herbs all on garishly coloured serving plates. The memories of that Jericho afternoon came reeling back.

This better be good.

And it was. The Sana owners are not country specific with their menu. Instead they have cherry picked from the wider Levant region which includes southern Turkey, Syria, Palestine, Israel, Jordan and Lebanon.

Their dishes are on par with the best street food we’ve eaten in the Middle East with presentation worthy of a warm afternoon in the Jordan valley.

A chef’s starter plate was four bowls of their best dips: baba ganoush, hummus, labneh and roasted beets.

They were presented like jewels. Each small bowl had a massive divot in the centre into which various oils and unctions were added specific to each dip. The smoky baba ganoush was adorned with oil and pomegranate pearls. The predominant flavour was of its main constituent, eggplant, the smokiness deriving from its charred roasting before being blended with tahini, lemon juice and the faintest whisper of garlic. Epic.

Labneh, drained yoghurt, was acidic and citric and well seasoned. One of the best. Hummus was dressed with oil and smoked paprika. Its flavour defied the often palate-deadening taste of chickpeas. It was light and perfectly balanced.

The lurid red beet dip was levelled-up with roasted pepitas. The house made flat bread – lots of it – was dusted with a za’atar spice blend and properly salted. Great start.

The next couple of dishes were vegetarian.

Zahrah, toasted, brown buttered cauliflower was teamed with crumbled feta and pomegranate jewels. Explosive flavour. Good texture.

Eggplant can become slimy when cooked improperly. Sana’s was cooked well, roasted actually and slathered with toum, a middle eastern, garlic sauce.

Toum is an emulsion sauce, like mayo but without egg as the emulsifier. Garlic, when completely broken down and by dint of some biochemical thingy, acts as an emulsifier, so when you drizzle olive oil into the garlic paste in a food processor it fluffs up into a stiff mayo-like texture. Amazeballs. It’s from Lebanon. This was a ripper. A bit of tahini, a splash of pomegranate dressing and a garnish of coriander. Bingo.

A word about fattoush. When it arrives it comes with, usually, a single shard of very dry toasted pita bread. It is there for you to crumble up and sprinkle over the top of this middle eastern salad. It was a good fattoush too. The tomato, cucumber, mint, onion and sumac salad was fresh, spritzy and well dressed.

Lamb cutlets were so deeply charred, we feared they might be overcooked. And yet, despite the crusty, salty, Baharat-spiced exterior, it was blushing pink inside and tender as a teenage love letter. Great job.

Sana is super casual, like something you might find spilling out on to the street at a local souk, away from tourists. It is – despite the cliché – like a trip to the Middle East. Its dishes have rare authenticity and unlike most dip and pita places, carefully calibrated flavours, bold spicing and spot on seasoning.