There are moments in life when food transcends its role as mere sustenance and becomes a profound experience, a gateway to history, culture, and personal connection. My time in Baghdad was filled with such moments, but none quite as memorable as the day I was introduced to a traditional Iraqi breakfast that would forever change the way I view morning meals.

It was a chilly morning in Baghdad, and the city was just starting to come to life. The hum of distant traffic, the calls of street vendors, and the smell of fresh bread drifting through the air painted a familiar yet novel picture of daily life in Iraq. By this time, I had been in Baghdad for a few months, juggling the challenges of banking and consulting. Yet, there was still so much to discover—especially when it came to local cuisine, a rich and often overlooked aspect of this ancient land.

A Breakfast Invitation: Kahi and Geymar

One morning, as I shared my curiosity about Iraqi food with one of my local colleagues, he smiled knowingly. “I know just the thing to show you,” he said. He invited me to join him at a small, bustling café where locals gathered to kick off their day. It wasn’t long before the promise of the ultimate breakfast indulgence became a reality.

The dish that was placed before me, Kahi and Geymar was unlike anything I had experienced before. The scene was set: steaming cups of chai were served to eager patrons, the warm fragrance of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. But it was the food on my plate that truly captured my attention.

The Art of Kahi: A Layered Delight

At first glance, Kahi appeared to be a simple pastry—golden, crisp, and stacked neatly in layers. It glistened with the melted butter that had been brushed lovingly between each fold. The layers were light and flaky, reminiscent of something I knew well: the Dhakai Paratha of Bengal or the Parotta of South India. But Kahi had its own unique character. It was lighter and more delicate than its familiar counterparts, with a distinct crunch that set it apart.

Kahi, which is traditionally served with a drizzle of honey, date molasses, or sugar syrup, was a sight to behold. As I picked up a piece, its delicate layers crumbled slightly between my fingers, and I could already sense the explosion of textures that awaited me. The balance of crispy, buttery layers and the richness of the syrup was mesmerising.

Geymar: The Crown Jewel of the Dish

Next to the Kahi was Geymar, a thick, velvety cream that completely caught me off guard. My colleague, clearly excited to share this treat, explained that Geymar was no ordinary cream. It was made from the milk of water buffaloes that roamed the marshlands of southern Iraq, and with a fat content that could reach up to 60%, it was decadence in its purest form. The cream’s rich, clotted texture was unlike anything I had ever tasted, leaving a lingering richness on my palate.

I took my first bite—Kahi topped generously with Geymar and a drizzle of honey. The combination was nothing short of magical. The crispness of the pastry paired perfectly with the creamy richness of the Geymar, and the honey added just the right touch of sweetness. The texture, the flavours—each bite was an indulgent yet deeply comforting experience.

A Culinary Legacy Spanning Millennia

As I savoured every mouthful, I couldn’t help but be fascinated by the history behind the dish. I learned that the water buffaloes that produced the milk for Geymar had been introduced to Iraq millennia ago, originating from India. This fact was particularly intriguing to me, as the water buffalo had played an important role in dairy traditions back home in my homeland. It felt as if these ancient animals had somehow bridged the cultural divide between Mesopotamia and India, connecting two rich culinary heritages that were separated by thousands of miles and centuries of history.

In fact, some historians believe that the word “Geymar” could trace its roots back to the Sumerian word “gamur,” which means “cheese.” This dish, therefore, wasn’t just about food—it was a living testament to the passage of time, an edible thread weaving together civilisations through shared culinary traditions.

The Perfect Pairing: Tea to Cut the Richness

No Iraqi breakfast would be complete without the perfect cup of tea. As I dug into the Kahi and Geymar, my colleague poured us strong, black tea into delicate istikaan glasses. The tea was bold and flavorful, providing the perfect contrast to the richness of the pastry and cream. The balance of flavours—the sweetness of honey, the richness of the Geymar, the crispness of Kahi, and the sharpness of the tea—created a harmonious experience that lingered long after the meal had ended.

A Moment of Reflection

As I sipped my tea and savoured each bite of the indulgent breakfast, I was reminded of the power of food. It’s more than just fuel for the body; it’s a way to tell stories, to bridge cultures, and to create connections that transcend borders. That morning in Baghdad, Kahi and Geymar didn’t just fill my stomach—they left a lasting imprint on my heart.

I marvelled at how a single meal could evoke such a sense of warmth and belonging, making me feel a part of something much larger than myself. It was as though I had been invited not just to taste the food, but to understand the deep cultural significance behind it—a living history that had been passed down through generations.

The Takeaway: A Dish Worth Experiencing

While Kahi and Geymar may not be the lightest of breakfast options, they are undoubtedly one of the most satisfying. The combination of crispy, buttery pastry, rich and creamy Geymar, and a touch of honey creates an indulgence that is impossible to forget. This dish is a celebration of indulgence, tradition, and warmth.

If you ever find yourself in Iraq, make sure to start your day with this unforgettable treat. But even if you can’t make it to Baghdad, perhaps it’s time to recreate this experience at home. After all, some culinary experiences are too delicious to miss—and sometimes, the best way to understand a culture is through the food that defines it.