Many people believe that the countries of the Levant - that is, Lebanon, Syria and Turkey - have more or less the same cuisine. But, although there is a strong resemblance between many of the region's dishes, having sampled the dishes of these countries I know that there are many variations, too. Of course, similarities are bound to be found. The Ottomans lived in our area for 400 years and contributed heavily to its cuisine. However, the origins of a recipe from the Levant, be it from Aleppo, Damascus, Lebanon or Turkey, is an altogether different matter, much disputed and difficult to settle.

I decided to start my culinary survey in Lebanon, the country that I left more than 20 years ago in order to establish a permanent home in England. Nostalgia is my lot and that of many of my Lebanese compatriots, who long for a way of life that was lost as a result of 15 years of war. The smell of a flower or the taste of a cake sometimes brings back memories.

Eating figs takes me back to my father's house, to an old tree in our garden and to a ritual that occurred every September when the figs were ripe. In the early morning, before the sun took on its blazing heat, my uncle would begin the delicate task of picking the figs. With the handle of a small wicker basket over his forearm, he would climb into the tree. As usual, my grandmother would stand on the veranda, her look-out post, sending out her orders. I was always amused by the sight of my uncle, perched high among the leaves, arguing with his mother, who gave him no respite until she had the last word. Figs were my favourite fruit, especially for their sap.

I remember the last Wednesday of April, which was when we celebrated the recovery of the prophet Ayoub (Jacob). In the early morning, we'd awake to a unique fragrance that filled the house. For this was a holy day, and, at my father's request, the bathtub would be filled with fragrant Seville orange blossoms, their leaves, and rose petals as part of a purification ritual. We splashed ourselves with the scented water. As the blossoms and rose petals fell over our face and neck, we would caress them before they fell again. At the same time, a different sort of perfume was coming out of the cauldron - the aroma of mufataqua, a dessert made with rice, tahini and turmeric.

The fighting ended in 1991 and reconstruction began. The Lebanese, resilient as ever, have had to find new sources of income. The food industry is just one growth area. Scores of restaurants, coffee shops and sandwich bars have mushroomed in the space of a few years. In my district alone, I can name at least 30 restaurants. But then, this is cosmopolitan Beirut. For specific Lebanese dishes other than the conventional mezze, you have to venture outside Beirut.

For my tour, I followed the path of 19th-century travellers on their way to the Holy Land, travelling by way of Byblos, Tripoli, Baalbek and Beit el-Deen. The inhabitants of Byblos are mostly Christians, those of Tripoli mostly Sunni Muslims, those of Baalbek mostly Shia Muslims, and those of Beit el-Deen mostly Druze. There are also significant differences in altitude and climate, which also affect what is grown and eaten.

Salsa harra

Aka, chilli and herb sauce. This is one of numerous different chilli-based sauces that work well with the baked fish dishes so beloved of the residents of Tripoli. This one uses a mixture of fresh spices that is well balanced without being excessive, to produce a very fine, pungent bite. That said, however, this tasty sauce also makes a perfect vegetarian starter when eaten with bread or crackers, or even cos lettuce or sweet peppers. It is also ideal for cocktail parties, served on small toasted slices of French or wholemeal bread. Serves four.

1-2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

4 large garlic cloves, finely chopped

1 tsp ground coriander

1 tsp ground cumin *

tsp ground cinnamon

tsp ground allspice

75g fresh coriander, finely chopped

75g flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

140g walnuts, chopped medium fine

tsp cayenne pepper

75ml lemon juice

735g tomatoes, peeled and chopped

Heat the oil in a deep-sided frying pan. Sauté the garlic for a few seconds, then add the rest of the ingredients. Cover and simmer over a medium to medium-low heat for 15 minutes, or until the liquid has evaporated. Turn off the heat. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Mouhabbalsh

Aka, taro with chickpeas in sesame cream. Taro is a tuber with a rough skin that is thought to be one of the oldest cultivated vegetables. In Lebanon, the mountain people have a tight budget, so have to be practical in their diet, making the best use of anything that grows on the land. Known as keikass in Lebanon, taro is used to give substance and bulk to a dish, and brings a pleasant variety to everyday meals. Above all, it is inexpensive, which suits the villagers. Potatoes can be used as a substitute, though you might well find the real thing in a Middle Eastern grocers.

This is a vegetarian dish similar to kibbeh, which uses meat. The aroma of the citrus fruits intermingles with the tahini, taro and chickpeas, creating a dish that gives pleasure and satisfaction. These quantities make a main course for five.

For the taro

7 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

900g taro, cut into 3mm-wide segments

450g onions, sliced

85g chickpeas, soaked overnight, drained and pre-cooked

450ml hot water

For the sauce

250ml white tahini

300ml Seville orange juice

150ml grapefruit juice

50ml lemon juice

75ml clementine or orange juice

Place the oil in a heavy pan, heat for a few seconds, then add the taro and onions. Sauté over medium heat, stirring occasionally, for five minutes, or until the onions are translucent and the taro is pale golden in colour.

Add the chickpeas, and sauté for a further eight minutes. Add the water and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer for 15 minutes or until the taro is tender.

To prepare the sauce, place the tahini in a bowl and gradually add the juices, whisking constantly. (Note: when Seville oranges are not in season, combine equal amounts of clementine, orange and grapefruit juice to make 150ml, and increase the amount of lemon juice to 150ml.) At first, the mixture will thicken, but as you add more juice the sauce will acquire the consistency of single cream. Using a wooden spoon, stir the sauce into the cooking pan. Keep stirring until it boils, then allow to simmer over medium-low to low heat for eight to 10 minutes.

This is traditionally served piping hot, with rice and fresh radishes.

Aish al saraya

Aka, palace bread. This is for true devotees of sweets. It is made only with stale bread and a few basic ingredients, yet the result is an unparalleled triumph - fit for a palace, as a matter of fact. It reminds me of another great dessert, ehmek kadafi, which is made with bread that has been drenched in a sugary syrup and eaten with kaimak (similar to clotted cream). But I digress. In this dish, the caramelised syrup and cream, all crowned with pistachio nuts, makes for a truly sensational combination. My sister adds a teaspoon of ground Nescafé when soaking the bread with the caramelised sugar; she says this gives it a deeper flavour and colour.

The quantities given here are enough to make an excellent party dessert for 10-14 people.

For the bread

425g stale white loaf, crust removed

575ml water

725g sugar

For the cream topping

300ml double cream

300ml single cream

3 tsp cornflour

1 tbsp water

4 slices white bread, crusts removed and bread broken up into small to medium crumbs

tbsp orange flower water

tbsp rose water

To garnish

115g pistachio nuts, soaked and skinned

In two batches, place the stale bread in a food processor. Blend for a few seconds until ground into medium-fine crumbs, then place evenly in a deep, rectangular serving dish about 34cm long. (If you do not have a food processor, do not worry - simply break up the bread into small pieces with your fingers, instead.)

Combine the water and 500g of the sugar in a saucepan, and place over medium heat. Stir until the sugar dissolves, then turn off the heat.

Place the remaining sugar in a frying pan over a low heat, until it melts and turns dark brown (ensure that the sugar has melted and is not granular). Add this to the sugar/water syrup in the pan - if the sugar stiffens, do not worry as it will melt again as you stir. Bring to the boil, and simmer over low heat for 10 minutes. Pour the caramelised syrup over the breadcrumbs, mix thoroughly and spread evenly. Set aside to cool, and for the bread to absorb some of the liquid.

Heat the double and single creams in a saucepan. Thoroughly mix the cornflour with the water, strain and add to the cream mixture, stirring constantly, until the cream boils and thickens. Add the pieces of bread, together with the orange flower and rose waters, and set aside to cool. Spread over the bread mixture in the serving dish, garnish with pistachios, then chill until serving.