The spicy chicken and rice I’ve been making for years and never get tired of

There’s a reason why almost every corner of the world has its own version of chicken and rice. Few meals promise so much comfort for so little effort. Tender, juicy chicken nestled in soft, fragrant grains with spices that absorb every drop of flavor: what could be better? Across the Arabian Peninsula, that promise takes the form of kabsa, a dish of layered spices, fragrant rice, and tender, deeply aromatic meat meant to be shared.

A brief history of Kabsa

Kasba is a spicy rice and meat dish originating from the Hijaz region of Saudi Arabia, where centuries of pilgrims and traders traveling through Mecca, Medina and Jeddah shaped the local cuisine. As the western gateway to the annual Hajj, the Islamic pilgrimage to Mecca, the region became a crossroads for travelers, merchants and cooks from across the Muslim world. Kabsa is one of the few Saudi dishes that entered my family’s Levantine cuisine and stayed there, appearing often enough that it no longer felt borrowed. The name comes from the Arabic root kabasa, meaning “to press,” a nod to the way rice is packed into a large pot to be cooked.

Hejaz, along Saudi Arabia’s west coast, has long been a crossroads of trade and migration. From the 8th century onwards, sea routes across the Red Sea and the Arabian Sea linked its ports, particularly Jeddah and those further south near Oman, to India, East Africa and beyond. From India came basmati rice and a nuanced use of spices, with blends that layer the flavors of spices such as cardamom, cinnamon, cumin and cloves. From Persia – connected by Gulf and sea trade – came dried limes and the tradition of cooking rice with meat and a fragrant broth, which spread throughout the Arabian Peninsula. Kabsa is at that intersection: long-grain rice, warm spices, and a cooked tomato base that stains the grains brick red.

Why I love Kabsa

At our house, kabsa was always made with chicken and shredded carrots which melted into the rice as it cooked, tinting it orange and adding a slight sweetness. Not all Saudi households do this well: many abandon carrots altogether. Kabsa can also be prepared with lamb. Although some ingredients may change, the bones of the dish remain the same: rice cooked with meat, tomatoes, and a warm, generous blend of spices like cinnamon, cardamom, cumin, and turmeric.

The appeal of kabsa comes from its layered flavors, built not only from the spice blend but also from loomi limes (dried limes, or limu omani), which add depth and complexity. These small limes are boiled in salt water, then dried in the sun (or in commercial dehydrators) until their skins darken, often to an almost black color, and their interiors harden into a brittle pulp. They provide a musky but floral note, with a slightly fermented side that deepens as they simmer. We are going far; they are also often pierced with a fork or knife before being added to a pot so that their aroma and sweet bitterness seep better into the broth. Throughout the Gulf, loomi limes are used in curries, stews and rice, imparting their complex and distinctive flavor to a variety of dishes. In Iran, they appear in ghormeh sabzi and ghalieh mahi, where they infuse the sauce with a similar complexity.

Cooking chicken

Traditionally, kabsa is prepared by simmering chicken in water with aromatics until tender, draining the broth and using it to cook the rice. The chicken is then grilled just before serving for added color and crispiness. My version retains the spirit of this process but simplifies it. Searing the chicken first creates flavor right in the pan, leaving behind browned bits that become the base of the rice. More importantly, it renders some of the chicken fat that, along with ghee, is used to sauté onions, garlic and spices. The result is deeper flavor in fewer steps.

Once the chicken is browned and set aside, the onions go in and cook until golden brown, followed by garlic, ginger, tomato paste and an arsenal of spices. The immensely fragrant mixture darkens to a burnished red. The tomatoes and carrots are then added and cooked until thick and jammy; reducing them at this point concentrates their flavor and removes excess moisture so the rice doesn’t become soggy.

How to get perfect rice

For kabsa, the texture of the rice is just as important as its flavor. Unrinsed rice becomes gummy during cooking, with the surface starch thickening the liquid and sticking the grains together—a good thing when you want sticky rice, but not here, where the goal is distinct, separate grains. Washing the basmati rice thoroughly until the water runs clear removes excess starch, so the grains stay separate and fluffy instead of clumping together. Once rinsed and drained, the rice is added to the pot with the aromatics and toasted briefly before adding water.

Once the water is added, the chicken is nestled in the rice. The liquid comes to a boil, then the heat is lowered so that everything cooks gently, covered, until the rice has absorbed the liquid. Low heat is key here, as it’s consistent enough to cook the rice evenly without burning the bottom. Too low heat delays cooking and ends up burning the bottom of the rice; too high does the same thing before the rice is cooked. Off the heat, the pot rests so that the steam can finish cooking the grains. While it rests, the chicken can be grilled if you want golden, crispy skin.

The biggest challenge when developing this version of kabsa was finding the right rice-to-water ratio. With the usual dose of 1 part rice to 1 1/2 parts water, the rice became mushy and waterlogged, and I was forced to overcook the rice just to expel the extra moisture released by the tomatoes, carrots, and chicken. When I changed the ratio to 1 part rice to 1.14 parts water (about 2 1/3 cups water to 2 cups rice), the rice swung too far the other way: Some grains remained firm even after lowering the heat to try to give them more time to become tender, which not only didn’t work but also burned the bottom of the pot. The sweet spot turned out to be 1 part rice to 1.25 parts water (about 2 1/2 to 2 5/8 cups water to 2 cups rice). This is enough so that the grains hydrate completely over low heat and do not become mushy. When the rice is cooked, a spoonful of ghee is gently stirred in just before serving, providing a silky shine and nutty aroma.

Raisin and walnut filling

The Kabsa is finished with a quick garnish of toasted nuts and raisins, which can be cooked in oil or ghee. The almonds go in first, followed by the pine nuts, which take less time to brown, then the golden raisins which smother in the heat until plump and lightly caramelized. The mixture is poured directly onto the rice, with the oil seeping between the grains. Toasted nuts add crunch to the rice, while raisins provide a chewy, fruity sweetness that plays against the heat of the spices and flavor of the chicken. Once poured over the kabsa, the nuts and raisins sparkle like tiny jewels scattered across the surface.

How to serve Kabsa

Once the rice has risen, it is transferred to a large platter, topped with chicken and drizzled with the raisin and nut mixture. Traditionally, kabsa is served with daqoos, a spicy tomato salsa eaten with many rice dishes in Saudi Arabia and Yemen. Bright, garlicky and slightly spicy, it is placed on top of rice at the table to emphasize its richness. In my house, we didn’t always make daqoos; instead we served kabsa with yogurt, in the Levantine way, where yogurt goes with everything. Whatever you serve it with, the dish always feels like a centerpiece: the sienna gradient of the rice, streaked with spices and studded with bright raisins, giving it a festive appearance that’s as grand as it is flavorful.