(Olive branches mingle with palms for Palm Sunday; grilled haloum cheese with fattoush salad at Kebabji; a manouche; motorcycle delivery men (in red) outside of Kebabji.)
Today was Palm Sunday so the soldiers were out in force protecting the churches. While palms decorate the gates and buildings, we wave olive branches over here to herald the Prince of Peace.
There was a street fair near my house so Diana and I went to it to forage our lunch from the vendors. It’s easy to be a vegetarian here. As with so much else in life, the Lebanese accommodate a broad range of tastes, from their version of steak tartar to the best salads ever. They have even created a croissant with zataar if you fancy a thyme mixture with your morning coffee.
The most important thing about Lebanese food is that its ingredients are absolutely fresh. I didn’t know romaine lettuce even had a taste until I was here last year and experienced its nutty sweetness. The farms are only a few hours away and produce is sold by green grocers, supermarkets, and peasant ladies on the street. The fruit is also beautiful and fresh and grown locally. Fruit is sold the same way as vegetables except that their street vendors are men wheeling large carts.
Restaurants and take-out food abound here. Many restaurants have a motorcyclist or two to deliver food. I am sorry to say that McDonald’s is among them. But so, too, one of my favorite places, a local chain called “Kebabji” that has great salads and grilled foods, including grilled haloum cheese which I always order. The local equivalent of pizza in terms of being ordinary street food is the manoushe, a flat bread that comes straight out of a large flaming oven folded over with cheese or zataar or both inside.
I’ve been to a few homes and had home cooked meals but it seems Beirut is like New York in that people socialize in restaurants and cafes.
Never one to miss a fashion trend, Beirut now has a number of new cupcake shops, a phenomenon I do not understand anywhere, especially in a city where good baklava is so easy to find.
A healthier indication of Lebanon’s participation in word culture could be found in a concert I attended earlier this week featuring Sami Hawat, a leftist musician and songwriter. One of his songs was a call to the ninety-nine percent, the language of the Occupy Wall Street movement.
The concert was timely. Parliament passed a law this week decontrolling rent laws over the next six years. Desirable and heterogeneous neighborhoods like this one are going to go upscale. More cupcake shops, fewer ovens firing up for manoushe.
goingfortheguttural 