Kabsa (Spiced Chicken and Rice)

There's a reason almost every corner of the world has its own version of chicken and rice. Few meals promise as much comfort for as little effort. Tender, juicy chicken nestled in fluffy, spice-scented grains that drink up every drop of flavor—what could be better? Across the Arabian Peninsula, that promise takes the form of kabsa, a dish built on layered spices, fragrant rice, and tender meat that's deeply aromatic and meant to be shared.

A Brief History of Kabsa

Kabsa is a spiced rice and meat dish from Saudi Arabia's Hijaz region, where centuries of pilgrims and traders moving through Mecca, Medina, and Jeddah shaped the local cooking. As the western gateway for 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 crossed into my family's Levantine kitchen and stayed, showing up often enough that it stopped feeling borrowed. The name comes from the Arabic root kabasa, meaning "to press," a nod to the way the rice is packed into a large pot to cook.

The Hijaz, along Saudi Arabia's western coast, has long been a crossroads of trade and migration. From the 8th century onward, maritime routes across the Red Sea and down the Arabian Sea linked its ports—especially Jeddah and those farther south near Oman—to India, East Africa, and beyond. From India came basmati rice and a nuanced use of spice, with blends that layer flavors from spices such as cardamom, cinnamon, cumin, and cloves. From Persia—connected through Gulf and sea trade—came dried limes and the tradition of cooking rice with meat and fragrant broth, which spread throughout the Arabian Peninsula. Kabsa sits at that intersection: long-grain rice, warm spices, and a cooked-down tomato base that stains the grains brick-red.

Why I Love Kabsa

In our house, kabsa was always made with chicken and shredded carrots that melted into the rice as they cooked, tinting it orange and adding a faint sweetness. Not every Saudi household makes it that way—many skip the carrots entirely. Kabsa can also be made with lamb. While specific ingredients may change, the bones of the dish stay the same: rice cooked with meat, tomatoes, and a warm, generous mixture of spices such as cinnamon, cardamom, cumin, and turmeric.

The appeal of kabsa comes from its layered flavors, built not just 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 left to dry in the sun (or in commercial dehydrators) until their skins darken, often to an almost black color, and their insides harden to a brittle pulp. They bring a musky yet floral note, with a faintly fermented edge that deepens as they simmer. One goes a long way; they're also often pierced with a fork or knife before being added to a pot so their aroma and gentle bitterness better seep into the broth. Across the Gulf, loomi limes are used in curries, stews, and rice, lending their distinctive, complex tang 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 the Chicken

Traditionally, kabsa is made by simmering the chicken in water with aromatics until tender, straining the broth, and using it to cook the rice. The chicken is then broiled just before serving for color and crispness. My version keeps the spirit of that process but simplifies it. Searing the chicken first builds flavor directly in the pot, leaving behind browned bits that become the base for the rice. More importantly, it renders some of the chicken fat, which, along with ghee, is used to sauté the onions, garlic, and spices. The result is a deeper flavor with fewer steps.

Once the chicken is browned and set aside, the onions go in and cook until golden, followed by garlic, ginger, tomato paste, and an arsenal of spices. The immensely fragrant mixture darkens to a burnished red. Tomatoes and carrots are added next and cooked down until thick and jammy; reducing them at this stage concentrates their flavor and drives off excess moisture so the rice doesn't end up soggy.

How to Get Perfect Rice

For kabsa, the texture of the rice is just as important as its flavor. Unrinsed rice turns gummy as it cooks, the surface starch thickening the liquid and gluing 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 rinses away excess starch, so the grains stay separate and fluffy instead of clumping. Once rinsed and drained, the rice is added to the pot with the aromatics and toasted briefly before water is added .

Once the water is added, the chicken is nestled into the rice. The liquid comes to a boil, then the heat is lowered so everything cooks gently, covered, until the rice has absorbed the liquid. Gentle heat is key here, as it's steady enough to cook the rice evenly without scorching the bottom. Too low a heat drags the cooking out and eventually burns the bottom of the rice; too high does the same before the rice is done. Off the heat, the pot rests so the steam can finish cooking the grains. While it sits, the chicken can be broiled if browned, crisp skin is desired.

The biggest challenge in developing this version of kabsa was finding the right rice-to-water ratio. At the usual 1 part rice to 1 1/2 parts water, the rice turned mushy and waterlogged, and I was forced to overcook the rice just to drive off 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 in the other direction—some grains stayed firm even after I lowered the heat in an attempt to give them more time to turn tender, which not only didn't work but also scorched the bottom of the Dutch oven. 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 for 2 cups rice). That's enough for the grains to fully hydrate at a steady simmer and not turn mushy. When the rice is done, a spoonful of ghee is gently folded in just before serving, bringing a silky sheen and nutty aroma.

The Raisin-Nut Topping

Kabsa is finished with a quick topping of toasted nuts and raisins, which can be cooked in oil or ghee. The almonds go in first, followed by pine nuts, which take less time to brown, then golden raisins that swelter in the heat until they're plump and slightly caramelized. The mixture is poured straight over the rice, the oil seeping between the grains. The toasted nuts add crunch to the rice, while the raisins bring a chewy, fruity sweetness that plays against the warmth of the spices and the savoriness of the chicken. Once poured over the kabsa, the nuts and raisins glisten like tiny jewels scattered across the surface.

How to Serve Kabsa

After the rice is fluffed, it's transferred onto a large platter, topped with the chicken, and spooned with the raisin-nut mixture. Traditionally, kabsa is served alongside daqoos, a spicy tomato salsa eaten with many rice dishes across Saudi Arabia and Yemen. Bright, garlicky, and lightly spiced, it's spooned over the rice at the table to cut through the richness. In my household, we didn't always make daqoos; we served kabsa with yogurt instead, in true Levantine fashion, where yogurt goes with everything. Whatever you serve it with, the dish always looks like a centerpiece—the sienna gradient of the rice, streaked with spices and dotted with shiny raisins, giving it a celebratory look that feels as grand as it tastes.