Yalanji, or Yalanci?

If you’ve ever ordered yalanji, you may have felt a sense of familiarity at first glance. The dish resembles yaprak or, as Syrians call it, yabraa those finger-length, luxurious grape leaves tightly wrapped around rice and meat, often crowned with generous layers of even more meat. And yet, something is missing. That absence is precisely where the story of yalanji begins.

The word “yalanji” is derived from the Turkish “yalancı,” meaning “false” or “pretending,” itself rooted in “yalan,” the Turkish word for “a lie.” When the term entered Arabic culinary vocabulary during the Ottoman period in the Levant, it was used to describe dishes that mirrored familiar, meat-based recipes but deliberately omitted what was considered their defining ingredient.

As for the concept of yalanji in Syrian and Levantine homes, it was not the same as it was in Turkey. Syrians -especially in Damascus- reshaping flavors, adjusting techniques, and assigning it specific roles within the culinary calendar. In food cultures where meat had long symbolized abundance, celebration, and hospitality, its removal fundamentally transformed the dish. Cooking methods became gentler, seasonings brighter, and flavors lighter and more nuanced. These dishes were typically served cold, generously cooked with olive oil, and associated with events like women receptions and meetings, and intimate family gatherings rather than grand feasts.

Over time, yalanji ceased to be understood as a “false” version of anything. It emerged as a category in its own right, with distinct rhythms, occasions, and meanings. What may have begun as a playful commentary on absence evolved into a tradition defined by intention, restraint, and creativity—reminding us that in cooking, as in culture, what is left out can be just as meaningful as what is included.