Molokhia Recipe (Egyptian Jute Mallow Soup)

As an Egyptian immigrant in the United States, nothing matches the joy of making molokhia soup in my kitchen and sharing its story with my kids. Molokhia is an iconic Egyptian soup made of jute mallow leaves from which the dish gets its name. Those leaves are cooked in a rich chicken broth and flavored with tasha, a fragrant garlic-coriander paste fried in ghee, until velvety. It’s a recipe that’s particularly nostalgic to me. Every year, towards the end of the last spring frost, I rush to order jute mallow seeds online. When they arrive, I plant them in the raised beds in my sunny backyard in Virginia and eagerly anticipate harvesting them to make molokhia soup, a comforting dish that takes me back to afternoons in my grandma’s kitchen.

I was born in buzzing Cairo and grew up in Alexandria, a serene Egyptian city on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea where no weekend meal or feast was complete without molokhia soup. I have many warm memories of long, leisurely meals and large gatherings where my family and I enjoyed molokhia soup together.

Today, most people prepare the soup with frozen molokhia that comes cleaned and chopped, but my grandmother Aida always used fresh, as I do today. I remember her working for hours as she patiently snipped fresh leaves, discarding the muddy stalks and rinsing off any clinging dirt under running water. Then, she’d spread the wet leaves out in one layer to air dry under the warmth of the sun.

I vividly recall my grandma facing her kitchen counter, hunched over as if preparing for battle. Her palms firmly gripping the two wooden handles of the mezzaluna, she’d tirelessly rock the blade back and forth, reducing a mountain of molokhia leaves to a neat pile of finely shredded greens.

Without missing a beat, she would then proceed to use one hand to add the minced leaves to the simmering broth while her other hand focused on frying the tasha. Then it was time for the funniest part of the whole tradition: My grandma would dramatically gasp while adding the tasha to the simmering soup, a ritual called shahka in Arabic.  

Legend has it that a successful molokhia soup is only possible if the cook gasps at the top of their lungs when they add the tasha. It’s an Egyptian tradition that has been passed on from one generation to the next, and one I will happily pass down to my kids.

The Origins of Molokhia

For years, the most widespread narrative has been that molokhia soup means royal in hieroglyphics (ancient Egyptian language), as molokhia soup was served only to pharaohs because it was so nutritious. That narrative was challenged by the prominent Egyptian food historian Mennat-Allah El Dorry, who confirmed that this dominant story lacks historical evidence. 

“The earliest certain record of it is from the eleventh century CE, when the Shiite Fatimid Caliph al-Ḥakim bi-Amrillah banned Egyptians from eating it likely because it was the favorite of Sunni Caliph Muawiya (7th century CE),” Dr. El Dorry told me in an interview. “Since then, it has appeared in a variety of sources. However, a possible mention in a sixth-century CE Alexandrian text also exists: the Vegetable Zodiac, which features crops that are harvested during each month and specifies a certain crop called malachai, for the November/December slot.”

How to Make Molokhia

Nowadays, anyone from any cultural background can make molokhia soup without breaking a sweat like grandma Aida did, thanks to the fact that frozen and pre-minced molokhia is available in Middle Eastern stores across the globe. Even if you do decide to make molokhia with fresh leaves, the blender does a neater, faster job than the traditional mezzaluna, and reduces the active cooking time to less than an hour. 

To make molokhia soup, you’ll cook the minced leaves in chicken broth and leave it to gently simmer until it bubbles on the edges and becomes fragrant. While the soup cooks, you’ll make the tasha by pounding together the minced garlic, toasted coriander seeds, and a pinch of salt, then frying it in ghee. It’s essential to make sure the paste is ready to incorporate into the soup at the right time—when the paste becomes fragrant, crisp, and orange-hued, you’ll add it to the soup to give it additional depth of flavor. And that’s all there is to it! 

To gild the lily, I garnish my molokhia soup with pickled red onions. About an hour before I serve the molokhia, I combine thinly sliced red onions, lime juice, and distilled white vinegar in a jar. The pickled red onions add a vivid pop of color to the soup, and lend satisfying acidity.

Tips for Success

The ideal molokhia soup should be a vivid green, with a significant body that is neither too thick nor too watery. Molokhia should be unapologetically slimy—yes, “slimy” is a good thing with molokhia—with an unmistakable garlicky scent and flavor laced with toasted coriander’s floral notes. The worst case scenario is sakta, which means failed in Arabic, or when the soup splits.  

This happens when the minced leaves sink to the bottom of the pan while the broth remains floating on top. The following tips will prevent that from happening: 

• Toast the coriander seeds in a dry skillet on the stove top to draw out the spice’s flavorful oils.
• Use the right ratio of broth—2 1/2 cups of broth to 400 grams of frozen molokhia. Any more broth, and the leaves will sink to the bottom of the broth rather than being incorporated into it.  
• Don’t cover the molokhia pot at any point as the color will lose its vibrancy. 
• Don’t overcook the garlic in the ghee. Remove it from the heat once the garlic-coriander paste becomes fragrant—otherwise the soup will taste like burnt garlic.
• Temper the molokhia soup. A large difference in temperature can cause the soup to split; adding the frozen molokhia to a broth that’s warm but not too hot reduces the risk of the soup separating.
• Simmer—but don’t boil!—the soup. Boiling can result in a lumpy soup and dull its vivid green color.
• The slippery texture of the leaves is a signature part of molokhia—but if you’d prefer a soup that’s less slimy, you can add a grated tomato. The acidity in the tomato helps to break up the slimy texture of the greens.

Variations of Molokhia

Molokhia is a dish that is more or less cooked the same way across Egypt. Some Egyptian families of Lebanese origin, however, use a combination of molokhia leaves and fresh minced cilantro in the soup—the cilantro adds freshness and balances the earthiness of the molokhia leaves. The broth they use might differ, too. They may use an austere vegetable broth, while others opt for a hearty beef or duck broth. Another alternative to fresh molokhia soup is shalawlaw, a vegan molokhia soup made with dehydrated jute mallow leaves that is popular in south and upper Egypt.

How to Serve Molokhia

Traditionally, molokhia soup is served hot with traditional Egyptian vermicelli rice or ruz moa’mar (baked rice), and/or bread (either pita or an Egyptian kind of bread that’s similar to pita but thinner and made with whole wheat).  To round out the meal, I like to serve molokhia with kabab halla (Egyptian braised beef with onions).

As an immigrant family, making molokhia has become a fun weekend ritual that brings my family together. Practice makes perfect, and making molokhia on a weekly basis has definitely elevated my molokhia skills. A few years ago, my late father visited me for the first time in Virgina to see my newborn. He tried my molokhia and, with a big smile on his face, he whispered: “Your molokhia is even better than your mom’s.”