Sam Lamiri doesn’t just wear many hats; he’s worn nearly every hat there is. From South London to Tunis, his impressive journey started out of school at 16 to become everything from a fishmonger to a set designer, until the pandemic sent him in an entirely new direction: harissa. But don’t get it twisted, Lamiri isn’t simply selling an eponymous-named hot sauce, but reconnecting with his Tunisian roots and aiming to redefine authenticity in the UK’s food scene.
Half-Tunisian, half-English, and now the full embodiment of a cross-continental mission, the entrepreneur is taking the “National Condiment” of Tunisia and turning it into a global kitchen staple. Below, we caught up with Lamiri to learn more.
To start, could you tell us a bit about yourself?
I am London born and raised, but now I split my time between there and Tunis. I dropped out of school at 16 and have since been a fishmonger, estate agent, set designer, construction worker… pretty much every job under the sun. Then COVID hit and I somehow became the “harissa guy”
What inspired you to launch the brand in 2021?
Food is ingrained in my family. My mum was a food journalist, so I grew up eating better than I probably deserved. But the London restaurant scene and UK cooking never had the same effect on me as Tunisia did. My dad’s cooking, the street food, the markets– it was where my love of good food really started. Tunisian food, especially harissa, felt very personal. I still remember being a kid, going head-to-head with my cousins, seeing who could load the most harissa on their bread.
Fast forward, mid-COVID, I ran out of our harissa from Tunis and lockdown meant travel was restricted. For the first time, I headed to my local shop to buy some in the UK and was genuinely shocked by what they were calling “harissa.” I called my family in La Marsa to send over a home-batch, and what started as selling to mates in South London quickly grew as I realised I wasn’t the only one craving the real thing.
Can you elaborate on the cultural and familial importance of harissa in Tunisia and how that is reflected in your product?
Harissa is at the heart of Tunisian culture. It’s more than just a condiment, it’s a ritual. We start every meal with it, simple as that: bread, olive oil, and harissa. It’s our “National Condiment,” and it finds its way into almost everything we cook. But it’s more than just a staple on the table. It’s a huge industry. In Cap Bon, we grow Baklouti chillies almost exclusively for harissa. You see them drying outside homes, stacked on trucks, a constant presence across the country.
How has your Lamiri family recipe been preserved and adapted over the generations? What makes it distinct from other regional harissas?
Like most family recipes, ours was something you learned by doing, passed down through hands, not paper. Before I showed up asking questions, I don’t think anyone even thought to write it down. Teaching is a way of bringing the family together. I remember my grandmother making harissa in big batches, singing as she went, only stopping to bark orders like “more garlic” or “enough salt.” When she gave her nod of approval, everyone knew what to aim for next time.
My family’s from Amira, near Sousse. Both my grandparents were Berber, and that’s where our recipe comes from. In Tunisia, harissa changes from region to region. Some prefer sun-dried, some smoked, and every family’s got their own twist. It’s personal, and it’s a part of our identity.
Harissa recipes vary across regions and families. How do you ensure that your product remains authentic to its Tunisian roots while appealing to an international audience?
Funny enough, nailing the recipe was one of the easiest parts of launching Lamiri Harissa. Sure, we used our family recipe, but let’s be real: Tunisians have been making, eating, and selling harissa for longer than anyone else. We’ve mastered it. Honestly, no matter the exact recipe 99.9% of harissa in Tunisia is going to blow away anything you find abroad. The trick was making it resonate with a western consumer. We needed packaging that would appeal to someone strolling the aisles at a boujee shop in Notting Hill whilst simultaneously not compromising on our “Tunisianess.” Basically letting people know it’s legit.
You mentioned that you source all your ingredients from local farmers. Why is this important to your brand, and how does it impact the quality of your product?
It’s everything for the brand and the product. Just like you can’t make champagne without grapes from the region, you can’t get real harissa without Baklouti chillies from Cap Bon or Kairouan. We’ve been growing, smoking, and drying those bad boys forever; you won’t find anything like them anywhere else. But this isn’t just about taste– it’s about ethics. It’s time for Tunisia to start reaping the rewards for this incredible condiment. We’re not here to just take the recipe and churn it out somewhere else; you have to give back the communities and country that made it.
Harissa is now recognised by UNESCO as a Tunisian product. How does this acknowledgment impact your brand, and what steps do you take to honor the regional provenance of harissa?
First off, it finally let me put my Moroccan mate in his place, ending a years-long debate over where harissa really comes from. But more importantly, it backed up the message I’ve been pushing for years: if it’s not Tunisian, it’s not “real” harissa. I’m hoping those European brands peddling mislabelled products with random ingredients will finally have to change their tune and rename their stuff. Harissa needs to reclaim its identity. Consumers have been misled for too long, and we’re here to set the record straight. If a recipe calls for harissa, guess what… you need actual harissa!
Your mission emphasizes connecting UK consumers to Tunisian culture. What role do you see harissa playing in bridging cultural gaps and fostering appreciation for Tunisia’s culinary heritage?
Tunisian food and culture are massively underrepresented in the UK. Growing up in London, one of the most multicultural cities in the world, I’ve never understood why there aren’t any Tunisian restaurants, while you can find Algerian and Moroccan spots on every corner. There’s a huge cultural gap between the UK and Tunisia, and I think food is the perfect way to bridge it. People in the UK really like harissa so by telling the story we are able to connect UK consumers to the pace it comes from. In short, we don’t just sell harissa, we connect you to culture.
What challenges have you faced in introducing an authentic Tunisian product to the UK market? How has the reception been so far?
Overall, the reception has been super positive. I think nows the time as a new wave of conscious consumers are on the hunt for ethical products, and the token “tastes of the Mediterranean” message on a jar won’t cut it anymore. People want the real sauce, straight from the source. Yes, there’s a lot of education needed, but luckily, the product speaks for itself. Once you try the real deal, there’s no going back.
The biggest challenge we faced with an artisanal product was meeting demand. It was a real balancing act–scaling production, while keeping the homemade feel was essential and took a long time to figure out. But I’m very happy to say we’ve cracked the code, and that sense of homemade goodness still shines through in every jar.
Where do you see the brand heading in the future? Are there any plans to expand your product line or further immerse consumers in Tunisian culture?
Lamiri Harissa to the moon! We want to take this worldwide through culturally driven events, food pop-ups, creative projects, and of course harissa. I look at products like sriracha, which popped up almost out of nowhere, and I know harissa can do the same. The key is making sure everyone knows where it comes from and who’s behind it. Many people don’t know sriracha originates from a town in Thailand however. That’s not happening with harissa, we’re gonna make sure people fall in love with not just harissa but Tunisian culture and food as a whole.
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