“If you have a heart and you have a mind, you must support Palestine,” Saleem Hammad emphasized as we sipped sweet tea overlooking Hanoi’s Old Quarter from the balcony of his restaurant, Oliva. The dinner we had just finished was delicious, but the visit to Vietnam’s only Palestinian restaurant felt more significant than a simple meal. Learning about Saleem’s journey, his personal relationship with Vietnam, and his efforts to deepen ties between Palestine and Vietnam underscore how cuisine can foster cultural exchange and understanding towards peace.

Oliva's second floor and doors leading to the balcony. The ornate painting was completed by one of Saleem's close friends.

“I’ve brought a small piece of Palestine to the heart of Vietnam,” Saleem explained about his opening of the restaurant late last year. That dream had been a long time in the making. He first came to Hanoi in 2011 to study on a scholarship provided by Al-Istiqlal University in his home nation. During those student years, while serving as a host of various Vietnamese television shows, operating popular social media channels, and his current work at the Palestinian embassy, Saleem has been a tireless voice for Palestine, introducing its culture, history, and current political situation to Vietnamese people while sharing about Vietnamese culture with audiences around the world.

Saleem shows off his iftar: the meal he will eat to break his daily Ramadan fast.

Saigoneer arrived at Oliva during Ramadan, and while Saleem was cheerful when he greeted us at 5:30, once he returned from breaking fast at sundown, he was exuberant. In a sign of things to come, he became deeply thoughtful and spoke with profundity when reflecting on the value of fasting. He didn’t like it as a child, but as an adult, he understands it as an opportunity to practice appreciation. Each grain of rice, each drop of water allows him to reflect on his blessings and faith. In turn, he tries to show appreciation to the people around him, noting “getting appreciation means you are alive; you exist.”

Saleem's arrival in Hanoi “was like being slapped in the face from all sides.” He didn’t know much about the country beyond a few school lessons about Hồ Chí Minh and General Giáp when he was awarded the scholarship and had imagined a hyper-developed Tokyo-like metropolis, not the rough-around-the-edges Hanoi where he lived in a dormitory with a gaping hole in its roof and washed dishes with his roommates in the toilet.

Despite the initial shock, it didn’t take long for Saleem to fall in love with Hanoi. “Family and culture is [sic] not different from my home,” he observed after watching daily life around town. People sing together, celebrate football, share fruit from their gardens, and simply express joy to be amongst one another. “There is happiness here,” he concluded.

Saleem during one of his many appearances on VTV. Photo via Reddit.

At first, navigating the city without Vietnamese was “like moving in quicksand,” he said in a typically descriptive turn of phrase reflective of his having studied Vietnamese literature. To better understand the culture and “break the wall to see all around,” Saleem needed to learn the language. His success in this task is evidenced by the smooth Vietnamese he speaks with a crisp Hanoian accent in his popular YouTube and TikTok videos and the proverbs he dropped frequently in our conversation. When asked why he started a restaurant, for example, he switched from English to Vietnamese: “Có thực mới vực được đạo” (you’ve got to eat to understand).

“I was poor,” Saleem said when asked how he learned to cook. His mother was the youngest of 12 children, and his father the youngest of eight, meaning there were always hungry mouths around. Surrounded by cousins, aunts, and uncles in his small village, he grew up interested in kitchen work and started helping at local restaurants from a young age.

From 7am to 2pm, the building is used by a phở shop, while Oliva operates from 2pm until 11pm.

While Saleem enjoyed learning how to make traditional dishes as well as interact with customers (anyone who spends five minutes with him will agree that he is very much a “people person”), his mom was less convinced. “I don’t need your money, I need your degree,” she scolded him once after he brought her the tips he’d earned. He indeed studied hard and achieved the education his mother expected of him, but still found his way back to the kitchen. Saleem makes the majority of the dishes at Oliva, though his wife, who is also from Palestine, helps with some items as well.

Visitors to Oliva may understandably be unfamiliar with what to expect from authentic Palestinian cuisine, though any experience with Middle Eastern food, broadly, will allow one to recognize many of the dishes, flavors, and ingredients. The region is home to thousands of years of human civilization, which featured extensive trade networks. Significant exchange, migration, and influence make it impossible to attribute many items to any singular, modern nation.

The falafel is served with tarator, a creamy tahini-based sauce.

Oliva’s hummus was smooth and rich, the blended chickpeas containing a bright dose of lemon that balanced the beef in the version we ordered. Meanwhile, the falafel was crisp on the outside with a welcome softness inside, which allowed the flavor to stand apart from the texture. Both the hummus and falafel were perfect accompaniments to the fresh and airy flatbread. The most unexpected delight of the meal was the pickled vegetables: crisp, colorful, briny bursts of sour bliss!

Hummus (left) and pickles (right).

Having sampled various Middle Eastern cuisines around the world, I was particularly excited to discover a dish I’d never seen before: maqluba. Arriving at the table with a ceremonial upturning of the pot to tumble a heap of rice, vegetables, and chicken onto the table, the maqluba was the star of the meal. Dating back at least 700 years, the Palestinian dish is assembled in the pot before cooking, with layers of eggplant, carrots, potatoes, and rice absorbing the chicken and eight spices, which need to be sent from Palestine.

The maqluba's pot is overturned at guests' tables and served with chopped nuts.

For conservative Vietnamese palates, Palestinian food should be quite approachable. The maqluba has even welcomed comparisons to cơm gà. One notable difference might be a lack of raw vegetables in the dishes. The situation is easily addressed with a Palestinian salad. In addition to the lettuce, tomato, and cucumber, the pieces of fresh apples contributed a pleasant vegetal element.

Significantly, Oliva is a halal restaurant, meaning that all food is clean, ethically obtained, and free from forbidden (haram) substances, including pork and its derivatives, according to Islamic dietary laws. But even non-Muslims should appreciate halal items because the distinction typically connotes carefully selected and stored items of a higher standard, which results in fresher, more delicious flavors. Considering the nation’s talented cultivators along with the soil and weather conditions, Saleem posits that if Vietnam followed halal rules, it would certainly have the healthiest, most delicious cuisine in the world.

Halal items are a matter of tourism in addition to business. Anyone with a social media account understands that of all Vietnam’s many virtues, it is often food that makes the largest impression on international tourists. This doesn’t apply to Muslims, however, of whom there are approximately two billion in the world. Saleem explained that for them, travel to Vietnam can be a chore of squinting at store packaging and having to forgo the majority of restaurants, from street stalls to Michelin dining experiences, because they do not adhere to or even know about halal restrictions.

Saleem provides explanations of what makes a food halal on his social media channels in Vietnamese to help the country better cater to Muslim visitors, a vast and relatively untapped market for a nation so keen on attracting tourists. When you consider that nearby Indonesia has the largest Muslim population in the world, it's a bit shocking that one doesn’t see more halal restaurants here already. Moreover, learning how to follow halal rules will also open up vast export markets for Vietnamese farmers, producers, and distributors, significantly helping the economy. “Uống nước nhớ nguồn,” (drink the water, remember the source), Saleem said when explaining his motivation to share ideas and information in Vietnam.

Oliva's political message is clear in the restaurant's artwork.

“As a Palestinian, I miss peace; I find peace here.” The bridges between Vietnam and Palestine that Saleem builds via Oliva, his social media, and his job at the embassy go both ways, and he wants to transmit important messages home: “As a Palestinian, I miss peace; I find peace here … If Vietnam can do it, so can Palestine.” He seeks support for this peace by explaining the ongoing genocide in his homeland in Vietnamese. Moreover, as an informal spokesperson, his warm and helpful presence helps to humanize their plight. He once again uses a Vietnamese proverb to explain his work: “ngòi bút có thể thắng vạn quân” (one pen is equal to 10,000 soldiers).

Oliva's political message is clear in the restaurant's artwork.

Saleem sat with us for a long time after dinner, pouring tea and sharing stories about his homeland and his people’s simple desires to eat, send students to school, care for their own land, and not fear slaughter every day. Not once did he check his phone, answer a call, or run down to the kitchen. His attention and energy were singular. It’s difficult to comprehend how he could be so generous with his time, considering his many roles at the restaurant, at his job, managing his social media presence, and translating several political works from Vietnamese into Arabic, all while being a devoted husband and member of a large family abroad that relies on him. I asked if he ever gets tired, metaphorically or literally, from speaking so much in support of Palestine. “Never,” he says while admitting that at night he often takes medicine for his throat, “Because words are strong.” I would add that a meal can also be strong, whether its a means of introducing people to a new culture or showing one’s support.

To sum up:

Opening time: 2pm - 11pm
Parking: Motorbike out front
Contact: @olivapalestinianhalalfood
Average cost per person: $$$ (VND150,000–under 500,000)
Payment: Cash, Card, Transfer
Delivery App: N/A