Chef Hawa Hassan on the Beauty and Complexity of Somali Cooking—and 3 Recipes You Can Make Now

Over the past weeks, the Trump administration has escalated its attacks on Somali immigrants in the U.S., through the use of racist rhetoric, restricting all immigration cases for Somalis already in the country, and launching an ICE operation reportedly targeting Somalis in the Minneapolis-St. Paul region. Here, the Somali-American chef and author Hawa Hassan reflects on her own journey to the U.S.—and, following on from her 2025 cookbook, Setting a Place for Us: Recipes and Stories of Displacement, Resilience, and Community from Eight Countries Impacted by War, how food has served as a means of bridging cultural divides in her own life and those of other Somali-Americans.

I was born in Mogadishu in the 1980s. A few years after my arrival, the air had already begun to thicken with the smell of burning tires and the sound of gunfire. I was four years old, a child of a city once alive with family gatherings, beach days with my grandfather, and long evenings filled with tea and conversation. The Mogadishu I first knew was vibrant and communal. Almost overnight, it disappeared.

Somalia became a war zone, and my family became one of many trying to outrun the collapse of everything familiar. Being Somali often means carrying beauty and loss at the same time. It means remembering the smell of the coastline even when you do not know if you will return. It means losing home and continuing forward.

By 1991, my mother was nine months pregnant and raising four children. She did what many Somali women have done across generations. She became the anchor. She made the decision to flee. We crossed the Kenyan border and reached the Dadaab refugee camp. At the time, the camp was intended for 90,000 people. It would eventually grow far beyond that. Today, Somalia has nearly 4 million internally displaced people and more than 700,000 Somali refugees living in nearby countries due to conflict, drought and floods. These numbers contribute to a global displacement crisis of more than 123 million people.

Dadaab is where I first understood community. Even in scarcity, Somalis find ways to rebuild. My mother opened a small goods shop with rice, flour, canned tomatoes, and cooking oil. My siblings and I unpacked boxes and lined shelves. Neighbors came looking for food, water and news from home. The camp was hot, crowded, and unpredictable, but people still found ways to live. Women gathered to sip tea and remises. Children created games between tents. Life continued.

When I was seven, my mother made another difficult choice. She sent me alone to Seattle so I could have opportunities she could not provide in Kenya. The separation was painful, especially for a Somali child raised in a culture where family is central. I did not understand why I had to go. I only knew I was boarding a long flight away from everything familiar.

Seattle greeted me with the cold of November, my first time experiencing winter. I learned English, joined the basketball team, and went to Tops Elementary. I missed my mother and my siblings. I missed cooking canjeero with her. I missed hearing Somali being spoken on the street.

Years later, after high school, modeling and moving to New York, I reunited with my family in Oslo. Fifteen years had passed. In that time, my mother had remarried, raised more children and opened two shops. I walked into her home as an adult, but emotionally I felt seven again. The reunion brought joy, tension, and a recognition of everything we had both survived.

That trip forced me to confront a feeling I had carried for years: the quiet wound of separation, even when the decision had been made out of survival. It also led me to a new question. Where are the stories of people like us, who survived conflict, displacement and rebuilding. People who held onto culture through food, memory and tradition.

That question redirected my life. Food became my entry point to understanding identity and belonging. In kitchens across Brooklyn, Liberia, Beirut, Kinshasa, and San Salvador, I met families who used ingredients, recipes and humor to stay connected to who they are.

Somali history helps explain this resilience. The region has been inhabited since the Paleolithic era. For thousands of years, Somalis lived along one of the most strategic coastlines in the world, which made the area a center for trade between Africa, the Middle East, and Asia. Ancient Egyptians referred to it as the Land of Punt. Traders from Arabia, Persia, India, and later China moved through Somali ports. Mobility, commerce, and adaptation became part of Somali identity.

Colonial influence arrived in the late 1800s when Italy and Britain established control. The Somali Dervish movement, led by Mohammed Abdullah Hassan from 1899 to 1920, mounted one of the longest anti-colonial resistances in Africa. After independence in 1960, Somalia experienced political instability that eventually led to the civil war in 1991 and the displacement that continues today.

Somalis have endured war, migration, and loss, but we are also known for resourcefulness, entrepreneurship, and a strong sense of identity. Our culture is shaped by nomadic traditions, poetry, language, humor and a deep commitment to community. No matter where we are, we understand where we come from.

My story began in a time of conflict, but it did not remain there. Like many Somalis, I carry home with me in memory, in food, and in the communities I build.

Digaag Qumbe (Chicken Stew With Yogurt and Coconut)

Yield: 8 servings

Photo: Jen May

Warming cumin, cardamom, turmeric, and ginger make this Somali chicken stew one of my favorite comforting dishes. I grew up eating digaag qumbe with a whole banana on the side, that hot-cold, savory-sweet contrast is such a classic Somali pairing. Traditionally it’s served with white rice, but like the women in my family always have, I make small twists of my own. These days I love serving it over a big handful of fresh spinach.

• 3 medium tomatoes, coarsely chopped (about 6 cups)
• 1 red bell pepper, seeds and membranes removed, coarsely chopped
• 2 jalapeños, seeds removed if you want less heat, coarsely chopped
• ½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
• 2 onions, chopped
• 2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
• 1 1" piece fresh ginger, peeled, finely chopped (about 1 Tbsp.)
• 1 Tbsp. curry powder
• 1 Tbsp. ground cumin
• 1 tsp. ground turmeric
• ¼ tsp. ground cardamom
• Kosher salt
• 1 cup plain yogurt
• 1 Tbsp. tomato paste
• 1 Yukon Gold potato, peeled, cut into ¾" cubes
• 1 carrot, peeled, cut into ¼"-thick coins
• 2 lb. skinless, boneless chicken thighs, cut into 1" pieces
• 1 14-oz. can coconut milk
• 3 Tbsp. ghee (optional)
• 1 cup cilantro, coarsely chopped, plus whole leaves for serving
• Steamed rice and/or spinach (for serving)

1. Blend tomatoes, bell pepper, and jalapeños in a blender or food processor until almost smooth; set aside.
2. Heat oil in a large pot over medium. Add onion and garlic and cook, stirring often, until beginning to soften, about 5 minutes. Add ginger, cumin, curry powder, turmeric, and cardamom; season generously with salt. Cook, stirring, until very fragrant, about 1 minute. Add reserved tomato mixture to pot and stir well to combine. Stir in yogurt and tomato paste, cover pot, and simmer 10 minutes. Add potato and carrot and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are nearly tender, 15–18 minutes.
3. Add chicken, coconut milk, ghee (if using), and 1 cup cilantro. Stir to combine, then simmer until chicken is tender and sauce thickens, about 20 minutes. Season with salt.
4. Divide rice among bowls. Spoon chicken, vegetables, and sauce over. Top with cilantro leaves.

Shaah Cadays (Somali Spiced Tea with Milk)

Yield: 4 servings

Photo: Jen May

Essentially Somali chai, this spiced tea with milk is served most often during the Somali afternoon tea tradition known as casariya. The most important things to serve with shaah cadays are sheeko, the Somali term for stories. Shaah is as much about whom you’re sharing it with as it is about what’s in your teacup. It’s all about community and conversation. Shaah cadays is also enjoyed in the morning for breakfast with canjeero.

Ingredients

• 1 (1-inch) piece ginger
• 2 (2-inch) pieces cinnamon stick
• 5 green cardamom pods
• 5 whole cloves
• 1 teaspoon black peppercorns
• 2 cups cold water
• 3 tablespoons loose black tea (or 4 black tea bags)
• 3 tablespoons granulated sugar, plus more as needed
• 2 cups whole milk

1. Crush the ginger with the bottom of a heavy pot or the blunt edge of a knife and set aside. Place the cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, and peppercorns in a mortar and crush with a pestle until coarsely ground (or crush on a countertop or cutting board with the bottom of a heavy pot).
2. Transfer the spices to a medium saucepan set over medium heat and cook, stirring, until very fragrant, about 1 minute. Add the ginger, water, tea, and sugar and increase the heat to high. Once bubbles form around the edge, immediately reduce the heat to low and let the mixture simmer for 5 minutes.
3. Stir in the milk and let it cook for just 1 minute to warm the milk, then turn off the heat. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a teapot, pitcher, or directly into tea mugs. Serve immediately while hot and add more sugar to taste if desired.

Canjeero (Sourdough Pancakes)

Yield: 12 pancakes

Photo: Jen May

Canjeero, sometimes also called lahoh, are thin pancakes made from a fermented batter. They are similar to Ethiopian injera but lighter in flavor, smaller in size, and faster and easier to make. Instead of ground teff (same thing as teff flour), water, and nothing else (which is how injera is traditionally made), the sourdough starter for canjeero is made with a little bit of yeast, which helps speed up the fermentation, along with ground corn (easier to find in the United States than teff, but you can try teff flour if you have it or any type of ground grain such as sorghum). That starter is then mixed with more water, all-purpose flour, a little baking powder for reassurance, and some sugar and salt for flavor. The mixture can sit for as little as 4 hours or up to overnight (injera typically takes days to ferment). The pancakes are quick to cook and are most typically enjoyed in the morning for breakfast. You can spread each pancake with a little butter, ghee, or sesame oil and sprinkle with sugar if you’d like. Serve with hot tea or, for a special treat, alongside cups of Shaah Cadays (Somali Spiced Tea With Milk).

• 1 cup finely ground white cornmeal
• 1 teaspoon active dry yeast
• 5 cups warm water
• 3 tablespoons granulated sugar
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon unsalted butter or canola oil

1. Place the cornmeal, yeast, and 2 cups of the water in a large bowl and stir together vigorously with a spoon. Cover the bowl with a clean kitchen towel or plastic wrap and let it sit at room temperature until small bubbles appear on top and the mixture has risen slightly, about 1 hour.
2. Add the remaining 3 cups water, the sugar, baking powder, and salt to the bowl and stir well to combine. Whisk in the flour until the mixture is smooth. Cover the bowl with the kitchen towel and let it sit at room temperature for at least 4 hours and up to 24 hours; the longer it sits, the more flavor it will develop. The mixture will have some bubbles on the surface.
3. When you’re ready to cook the pancakes, place the butter in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Once the butter has melted and the skillet is hot, stir the batter well and ladle enough into the skillet to form a thin, even layer across the bottom, tilting the pan to coat the surface (about ½ cup per pancake, depending on skillet size). Use the rounded base of your ladle to swirl batter to make some circular grooves on the surface.
4. Cover the skillet with a lid and cook until no liquid remains on the surface and the underside is barely golden brown, about 2 minutes. Transfer the pancake to a plate and repeat with the remaining batter (no need to add more butter after the first pancake). Stack the pancakes as you make them and serve warm.