Lebanon: Breaking Bread and Barriers
Lebanon: Breaking Bread and Barriers
Lebanon is a small country with an enormous past. Once home to the ancient Phoenicians, seafaring traders whose phonetic alphabet still echoes in every written word we use today, it has long stood at the crossroads of empires. Persians, Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Caliphates, and Ottomans all left their mark. And when those empires faded, France stepped in to mold a new one.
By the time Lebanon gained independence in the mid-20th century, it was already a mosaic of religions, cultures, and identities, sometimes overlapping, sometimes at odds. This diversity was its greatest strength and, too often, its deepest fault line. Its government, designed to balance that diversity, is a tightrope always on the verge of collapse: the president must be a Maronite Christian, the prime minister a Sunni Muslim, the speaker of parliament a Shia Muslim, the deputy prime minister an Orthodox Christian, and the Chief of the Armed Forces a Druze.
This arrangement was meant to preserve peace, a safeguard against another civil war like the one that engulfed the country for 15 years. But more often than not, it has invited foreign powers to manipulate sectarian divisions for their own ends.
Yet in moments when the Lebanese people have united, across sect, class, and creed, the results have been powerful. It's those moments we'll focus on today: moments when the working people of Lebanon stood together against their common oppressors. Moments of memory, resistance, and survival. And, of course, the food that fed them.
Through decades of turmoil, the Lebanese people have turned to their beloved dishes, dishes as diverse as Lebanon itself, as fuel for body and soul. These are not just meals, but acts of defiance. Shawarma, the king of street food, spinning hot and fast on the street corner, nourished striking dockworkers in 1958. Mezze, bowls of hummus, baba ghanoush, and tabbouleh, became centerpieces of union halls and protest camps in the fragile post-war years of the 1990s, as the Lebanese learned to be one people again. Manakeesh, pulled hot from ovens, fed the millions gathered in Martyrs' Square during the Cedar Revolution. Mujadara, humble and hearty, brought warmth to protesters choking on the stench of government failure in the 2015 garbage crisis. Fattoush, bright, sharp, and made from scraps, kept spirits alive during the cross-sectarian October Uprising against the WhatsApp tax in 2019.
These dishes are not just stories of flavor; they're stories of people: of students and taxi drivers, bakers and teachers, street vendors and single mothers. They are edible archives of Lebanon's struggle to build a more just, equitable, and unified society.
So grab a pita. Stir a pot. Join us at the intersection of hunger and hope, as we explore five iconic dishes that fed Lebanon's unbreakable spirit and the movements it birthed.
Chicken Shawarma: Spinning Resistance
Shawarma was born in the Ottoman Empire, evolving from Turkish döner kebabs. These vertical stacks of marinated meat, spinning on a rotisserie, became a common sight on the streets of the Arab world. Originally made with lamb, by the mid-20th century, the streets of Beirut and Tripoli began to embrace chicken. Chicken shawarma quickly became the meal of the working class: fast, cheap, and on every corner. Which is precisely why, in 1958, it became fuel for a population on the verge of rebellion.
Lebanon gained independence from France in 1943, during a world war and at a time when France itself was occupied by a collaborationist regime. From the beginning, it was clear that this new nation was being pulled in multiple directions, by sect, by region, and by outside powers. The National Pact, the foundation of Lebanon's post-colonial state, was a compromise born of that tension. Based on the 1932 census, it divided power on a 6:5 ratio between Christians and Muslims (including Druze). The presidency was reserved for a Maronite Christian, the prime minister had to be a Sunni Muslim, the speaker of parliament a Shia Muslim, and the deputy prime minister a Greek Orthodox. The head of the armed forces would be Druze.
The arrangement was meant to preserve balance: Christians would not seek Western protection, and Muslims would renounce dreams of uniting with a broader Arab nation. The idea was to build a neutral ground, a kind of free port where East and West could do business. The president was elected by parliament, which would then appoint a prime minister. The system was designed to ensure that no one group could dominate. In theory, it was a balance. In practice, it was a powder keg.
This fragile structure was tested early. Lebanon's second president, Camille Chamoun, oversaw an economic boom during his presidency, but its gains flowed mostly to the elite, particularly in the largely Christian port of Beirut. Meanwhile, the Muslim-majority "poverty belt" that ringed the city saw little benefit. An influx of Palestinian refugees following the Nakba in 1948 shifted the country's demographics, intensifying resentment. Christians, who had historically aligned with the West, began looking toward American-style capitalism and even tacit alignment with Israel. Muslims increasingly identified with the pan-Arab, anti-imperialist message of Egypt's President Gamal Abdel Nasser.
One of the few things both sides could still agree on was shawarma. On every corner, spits of marinated chicken spun slowly above open flames, their scent cutting through the tension in the air. Shawarma became a symbol of everyday Lebanese life: flavorful, fast, and shared by all. A united country existed, if only briefly, in the smoky aroma of garlic sauce and charred meat.
But that unity didn't hold.
In 1956, Nasser nationalized the Suez Canal, challenging British and French control and striking a blow against colonial dominance. A few years earlier, he had overthrown Egypt's British-aligned monarchy and ignited a regional firestorm of Arab nationalism. His call for a united Arab world—one strong enough to resist foreign intervention—resonated deeply in the Levant, especially among Lebanon's Muslims.
Israel's response was to invade the Sinai Peninsula alongside Britain and France. The invasion was framed as a defense of trade routes, but secret memos revealed something more sinister: part of the plan involved redrawing regional borders, including the creation of a Maronite Christian state in southern Lebanon. Camille Chamoun, ever the West's ally, was eager to sign on.
Lebanon's Prime Minister Abdallah El-Yafi and Minister of State Saeb Salam urged Chamoun to condemn the invasion of a fellow Arab state. He refused. Both men resigned in protest.
Outraged, Muslim opposition leaders formed a National Front, aligning themselves with Nasser's pan-Arab vision. Fearing a pro-Nasser, pro-Soviet outcome in Lebanon's 1957 elections, the United States funneled money and military aid to Chamoun's government. Sunni and Druze leaders accused him of violating the National Pact, while protesters filled the streets, streets already sizzling from summer heat and shawarma stands.
In Beirut, Chamoun's security forces opened fire, killing seven demonstrators and injuring 73. Opposition figures claimed the elections were rigged: bought votes, gerrymandered districts, ballot stuffing. Still, the vote proceeded, with pro-Western forces claiming victory. When prominent anti-Maronite, pro-Nasser journalist Nasib Al-Matni was assassinated, the opposition erupted. Then Chamoun announced his intention to run for a second term, explicitly forbidden by Lebanon's constitution. He formally asked the US for help in doing so.
By 1958, Lebanon was spinning faster than any shawarma spit. And it was about to ignite.
The largely Muslim working-class neighborhoods of Tripoli and Basta in Beirut launched general strikes. Though widely portrayed in the media as sectarian unrest, these protests were rooted in class struggle. Tripoli and Basta had seen none of Chamoun's economic boom. In response, the Maronite Phalange, a right-wing paramilitary group, staged counter-strikes in Beirut's Christian neighborhoods. The country froze.
On both sides of the dividing lines, picket lines shared a common scent: shawarma. It was eaten hot, greasy, and defiant by striking dockworkers, laborers, and students alike.
Meanwhile, Syria's Arab nationalist government began sending weapons to Shia militias in the south, preparing for a broader conflict. Worried about losing another Middle Eastern ally to revolution in the context of the Cold War, the United States authorized a full military intervention. On July 15, 1958, nearly 14,000 U.S. Marines landed in Beirut, the first direct American intervention in the Arab world. Ironically, they arrived not long after the assassination of Iraq's British-aligned monarchy in a revolution widely viewed as Nasser-inspired.
The violence ended only when the presidency passed to Fouad Chehab, a moderate Maronite with ties to both Christian and Muslim communities. His appointment temporarily defused the crisis. In the streets, shawarma was once again consumed in celebration.
But the scars remained.
Though Chehab attempted to develop Lebanon's neglected Muslim regions, the surrounding powers—Syria, Israel, and the PLO—continued to exploit sectarian fault lines. Political militias flourished, foreign money flowed in, and the state slowly lost control. By 1975, Lebanon erupted into a full-scale civil war.
Through it all, shawarma remained a working-class staple. And it remains so today.
I don't have a rotisserie, but I've adapted this recipe to bring the same smoky, garlicky flavors to a home oven. Trust me, it's worth it.
Chicken Shawarma (Oven-Cooked on Towers)
Yields
4–5 servings
Prep Time
40 minutes (plus 2+ hours marinating)
Cook Time
1 hour
Total Time
3 hours 40 minutes (including marinating)
Ingredients
For the Chicken
2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs (preferred) or 4 chicken breasts
1 large red onion (for tower base)
3 tablespoons Greek yogurt
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
3 cloves garlic, finely grated
2 teaspoons paprika
½ teaspoon ground cumin
½ teaspoon turmeric
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon oregano
½ teaspoon red pepper flakes (optional, for heat)
2 teaspoons salt
2–3 tablespoons olive oil
For Serving (Optional)
Pita bread or markouk bread
1 red onion, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon ground sumac
Fresh tomatoes, sliced
Cucumber, sliced
Shredded lettuce
Toum, hummus, or tzatziki
Pickles
Instructions
Marinate Chicken: Slice chicken into thin strips. In a large bowl, combine chicken with Greek yogurt, lemon juice, grated garlic, paprika, cumin, turmeric, cinnamon, oregano, red pepper flakes, salt, and olive oil. Mix well, cover, and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, preferably overnight.
Preheat Oven: Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C).
Assemble Tower: Place a paper towel holder or skewers in a roasting pan. Halve the onion, place cut-side down as a base, and thread marinated chicken tightly onto the holder or skewers, forming a tower. Top with a tomato half if using a paper towel holder.
Bake: For paper towel holder, cover loosely with foil and bake for 45 minutes. For skewers, place in oven without foil. After 45 minutes, remove foil (if used) and bake for 30 more minutes until chicken is browned, slightly charred, and reaches 165°F (74°C) internally.
Prepare Pickled Onions (Optional): Mix sliced red onion with lemon juice, sumac, and a pinch of salt. Let marinate for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Slice and Serve: Let tower rest for a few minutes. Slice chicken thinly with a sharp knife. Serve in warm pita with pickled onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce, toum, or tzatziki.
Mezze: Shared Plates, Shared Struggle
"Mezze" comes from the Persian word maza, meaning "taste," and refers to the tradition of serving many small, shareable dishes—an ancient practice that stretches back to the Phoenicians and Mesopotamians. Over the centuries, empires rose and fell over the land we now call Lebanon, and each left something behind on the plate.
Pita bread has been a staple of the region since prehistoric times. Baba ghanoush, the smoky eggplant dip, gained widespread popularity during the Abbasid Caliphate. Laban bi khyar, a cooling yogurt-cucumber sauce, bears the imprint of Ottoman and Persian influence. Hummus has graced Arabic cookbooks since the medieval era. Warak enab—grape leaves stuffed with rice, herbs, and spices—were beloved throughout the Ottoman Empire, with Lebanon's fertile vineyards supplying the leaves. Zaytoun, or olive salad, draws from the ancient groves that line Lebanon's northern and southern hillsides.
Some mezze are more recent arrivals: toum, a whipped garlic sauce, emerged during the French Mandate period, where French culinary technique met Levantine ingredients. Tabbouleh rose to prominence in the 20th century, becoming a global ambassador of Lebanese cuisine. And limonana, a slushy blend of lemon juice and mint, became a café staple in 1990s Beirut, just as the country began stitching itself back together after fifteen years of brutal civil war.
Each dish tells a story. Phoenician, Arab, Ottoman, Persian, Greek, and French legacies mingle on the table. But mezze isn't just a history lesson; it's a social act. A meal meant to be shared. In a country emerging from sectarian bloodshed and rubble, where communities had been ripped apart and trust had eroded, eating together became an essential form of repair.
From 1975 to 1990, Lebanon tore itself apart. What began as political unrest devolved into full-scale civil war, with neighborhoods split by barricades and loyalties dictated by sect and street. Dozens of militias emerged, many backed by foreign powers. Christian nationalist groups like the Phalange, supported by Israel, fought to preserve the old Maronite-dominated order. The Lebanese National Movement, a coalition of leftist, Sunni, and Druze factions, aligned with the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) in their call to dismantle sectarian privilege. The Amal Movement, a Shia militia supported by Syria, pushed for greater representation of Lebanon's long-marginalized Shia population while resisting PLO encroachment in the south. In the 1980s, Hezbollah emerged, backed by Iran, advocating for armed resistance against Israel and the creation of a Shia Islamic state. Meanwhile, the PLO, expelled from Jordan in 1970, made Lebanon its base of operations, stoking conflict and drawing in outside powers.
Syria invaded to assert regional control. Israel followed, invading and occupying southern Lebanon in 1982. The war became a proxy battleground for regional and global powers. Massacres, bombings, and foreign occupations left deep scars.
A fragile peace came in 1990 with the Taif Agreement. It reshaped the power-sharing formula, granting Muslims and Christians equal representation and elevating the role of the prime minister. Militias were ordered to disband, except Hezbollah. But the peace was uneven. Syrian forces remained. Israeli troops lingered in the south. The government's control was fragmented. And the economic wounds ran deep.
By the mid-1990s, public discontent turned to protest. Teachers hadn't received a raise in years. Utility and port workers saw their wages vanish with inflation. Civil servants, postal workers, and airline staff staged rolling strikes, across sectors, across sects. They didn't just organize; they gathered. And those gatherings were covered in mezze.
Lebanon's supply chains were unreliable, so people leaned on what they had: dishes born from scarcity, perfected through practice. In union halls, public parks, and protest camps, mezze became the language of solidarity. Former enemies sat side by side, sharing food and forging a new political vocabulary, one of labor, dignity, and collective action.
Bowls of hummus, smooth and garlicky, fed exhausted Biblical scholars have debated this topic for centuries. Some say it’s a metaphor for Jesus Christ’s sacrifice, others for a Roman soldier’s meal. No matter the origin, it’s a dish that brings people together. Hummus, thick with smoke and lemon, was scooped with warm pita at sit-ins. Tabbouleh, sharp and green, broke up the beige of hardship. Stuffed grape leaves, wrapped tight like fists, were carried from home kitchens to picket lines. Even limonana, cold and sweet, cooled the heat of summer rallies and long speeches.
The government banned demonstrations in 1995, but the workers kept showing up. And while newspapers ran headlines about street violence and cabinet resignations, another revolution unfolded in every protest kitchen. One made of parsley and garlic. Of olives and rice. Of people daring to imagine a country not built on sectarian division, but on shared plates and shared struggle.
That year, the pressure forced Prime Minister Rafic Hariri to resign. The government later reasserted control, fanning sectarianism to divide the movement. By 1996, the strikes had lost steam. But the memory remained, and so did the mezze. A testament to what was possible.
Mezze is the best charcuterie spread you can ever imagine! Try it out.
Lebanese Mezze Spread
Description
A vibrant collection of Lebanese dips, salads, and drinks, perfect for a communal dining experience. Serve with warm pita for dipping and scooping.
Yields
6–8 servings (across all dishes)
Prep Time
Varies by dish (see subsections)
Cook Time
Varies by dish (see subsections)
Total Time
Varies by dish (see subsections)
Ingredients
For Serving
Warm pita bread, cut into wedges
Lebanese Tabbouleh
Description
A vibrant, herb-heavy Lebanese salad with fine bulgur, tomatoes, and a lemony dressing.
Yields
6 servings
Prep Time
20 minutes
Cook Time
None
Total Time
1 hour 50 minutes (including soaking and chilling)
Ingredients
¼ cup fine bulgur wheat
½ cup boiling water
5 ripe tomatoes, finely diced
1 small onion, finely diced (or 4 scallions, finely chopped)
1 cup freshly chopped curly parsley (about 2 bunches), stems removed
¼ cup freshly chopped mint leaves
2–3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Salt to taste
Equipment
Small mixing bowl
Clean kitchen towel
Large mixing bowl
Instructions
Soak Bulgur: Place bulgur in a small bowl, pour boiling water over it, mix lightly, and cover with a kitchen towel. Let sit for 1 hour until tender. Drain excess water and squeeze dry with a towel if needed.
Chop Ingredients: Finely dice tomatoes and onion. Finely chop parsley and mint.
Combine: In a large bowl, mix tomatoes, onion (or scallions), parsley, mint, and soaked bulgur.
Dress: Add lemon juice, olive oil, and salt. Mix well.
Chill (Optional): Refrigerate for 30 minutes to meld flavors.
Serve: Serve chilled or at room temperature with warm pita.
Notes
Ensure parsley dominates for authentic texture (3:1 herb-to-bulgur ratio).
Store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 2 days.
Simple Hummus
Description
A creamy, quick hummus made with canned chickpeas, perfect for dipping or spreading.
Yields
1.5–2 cups
Prep Time
10 minutes
Cook Time
None
Total Time
40 minutes (including chilling)
Ingredients
1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas, drained (reserve ¼ cup aquafaba)
¼ cup tahini, stirred well
2–3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 small clove garlic, minced (or ½ teaspoon garlic powder)
2 tablespoons olive oil
½ teaspoon ground cumin (optional)
¼ teaspoon salt, or to taste
2–4 tablespoons reserved aquafaba or cold water
Garnish (optional): paprika, chopped parsley, olive oil drizzle
Equipment
Food processor
Spatula
Serving bowl
Instructions
Combine Ingredients: In a food processor, add chickpeas, tahini, lemon juice, garlic, olive oil, cumin (if using), and salt.
Blend: Process for 3–5 minutes, scraping sides as needed, until smooth.
Adjust Consistency: Add aquafaba or water 1 tablespoon at a time while processing until creamy.
Taste: Adjust salt or lemon juice as needed.
Chill: Refrigerate for 30 minutes for best flavor.
Serve: Transfer to a bowl, drizzle with olive oil, garnish with paprika or parsley, and serve with warm pita.
Notes
Peel chickpeas for ultra-smooth texture.
Toum (Lebanese Garlic Sauce)
Description
A creamy, pungent garlic sauce, perfect as a dip or spread for shawarma, made with simple ingredients emulsified into a fluffy texture.
Yields
1 cup
Prep Time
15 minutes
Cook Time
None
Total Time
15 minutes
Ingredients
1 cup peeled garlic cloves (about 2–3 heads)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
¼ cup fresh lemon juice (about 1–2 lemons)
2 cups neutral oil (e.g., canola, grapeseed, or vegetable oil)
Ice water, as needed (1–2 tablespoons)
Equipment
Food processor or blender
Small bowl
Measuring cups and spoons
Instructions
Prepare Garlic: Peel garlic cloves and remove any green sprouts to reduce bitterness.
Blend Garlic and Salt: In a food processor or blender, combine garlic and salt. Process until finely minced, scraping down sides as needed.
Add Lemon Juice: With the processor running, slowly add lemon juice in a thin stream until fully incorporated.
Emulsify with Oil: With the processor running, very slowly drizzle in the oil in a thin, steady stream (this can take 5–7 minutes). The mixture should thicken and become creamy, resembling mayonnaise.
Adjust Consistency: If the toum is too thick, add ice water 1 teaspoon at a time while processing until smooth and fluffy.
Taste and Adjust: Taste and adjust salt or lemon juice if needed.
Serve: Transfer to a bowl and serve with shawarma or store in an airtight container.
Notes
Use fresh, firm garlic for the best flavor.
Add oil slowly to ensure proper emulsification; rushing can cause the sauce to break.
Store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 1 month. Stir before using.
Simple Baba Ghanoush
Description
A smoky eggplant dip with tahini and lemon, ideal for a mezze spread.
Yields
1.5–2 cups
Prep Time
15 minutes
Cook Time
30–45 minutes
Total Time
1 hour 30 minutes (including chilling)
Ingredients
1 large (1.5 lbs) globe eggplant
¼ cup tahini, stirred well
2–3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1–2 cloves garlic, minced (or ½–1 teaspoon garlic powder)
2 tablespoons olive oil
½ teaspoon salt, or to taste
Garnish (optional): chopped parsley, pomegranate seeds, olive oil drizzle
Equipment
Baking sheet
Foil
Colander or fine-mesh sieve
Medium bowl or food processor
Instructions
Preheat Oven: Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). Line a baking sheet with foil.
Roast Eggplant: Pierce eggplant with a fork. Roast for 30–45 minutes, turning occasionally, until soft and collapsed. Optionally, char over a gas flame for extra smokiness.
Cool and Drain: Cool eggplant for 10–15 minutes. Scoop flesh into a colander and drain for 10–15 minutes.
Combine: Transfer eggplant to a bowl or food processor. Add tahini, lemon juice, garlic, olive oil, and salt.
Blend/Mash: Mash with a fork for chunkier texture or pulse in a food processor for smoothness.
Taste: Adjust seasoning as needed.
Chill: Refrigerate for 30 minutes.
Serve: Transfer to a bowl, drizzle with olive oil, garnish with parsley or pomegranate seeds, and serve with warm pita.
Notes
Add a drop of liquid smoke for extra smokiness if no gas stove is available.
Store in an airtight container in the fridge for 4–5 days.
Laban bi Khyar (Cucumber Yogurt Sauce)
Description
A refreshing yogurt-based sauce with cucumber and dill, perfect for dipping or pairing with meats.
Yields
1.5 cups
Prep Time
15 minutes
Cook Time
None
Total Time
45 minutes (including chilling)
Ingredients
1 cup plain Greek yogurt (full-fat)
½ English cucumber (or 1 small regular cucumber), peeled and grated
1–2 cloves garlic, finely minced or grated
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice (or white wine vinegar)
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh dill
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh mint (optional)
¼ teaspoon salt, or to taste
Pinch of black pepper
Equipment
Box grater
Clean kitchen towel or paper towels
Medium bowl
Instructions
Prepare Cucumber: Grate cucumber, place in a towel, and squeeze out excess liquid.
Combine: In a medium bowl, mix yogurt, cucumber, garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, dill, mint (if using), salt, and pepper.
Chill: Refrigerate for 30 minutes to meld flavors.
Serve: Drizzle with olive oil if desired and serve with warm pita.
Notes
Salt cucumber and let sit for 10 minutes before squeezing for better water removal.
Store in an airtight container in the fridge for 4–5 days.
Lebanese Olive Salad (Zaytoun Salad)
Description
A tangy, crunchy salad with mixed olives, fresh vegetables, and a sumac-lemon dressing.
Yields
2–3 cups
Prep Time
15 minutes
Cook Time
None
Total Time
30 minutes (including resting)
Ingredients
1.5–2 cups mixed olives, pitted and halved or chopped
½ cup ripe tomatoes, finely diced (or 1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved)
¼ cup finely diced red onion (or 2–3 scallions, thinly sliced)
¼ cup finely chopped fresh parsley
¼ cup finely chopped fresh mint
¼ cup finely diced green bell pepper (optional)
1–2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2–3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
½–1 teaspoon sumac
Pinch of red pepper flakes (optional)
Salt and black pepper to taste
Equipment
Medium bowl
Small bowl for dressing
Instructions
Prepare Olives: Pit and chop olives. Rinse lightly if very salty, then drain.
Combine Vegetables: In a medium bowl, mix olives, tomatoes, red onion (or scallions), parsley, mint, and bell pepper (if using).
Make Dressing: In a small bowl, whisk lemon juice, olive oil, sumac, and red pepper flakes.
Dress Salad: Pour dressing over salad and toss gently.
Taste: Adjust seasoning with lemon juice, sumac, salt, or pepper.
Rest: Let sit for 15–30 minutes for flavors to meld.
Serve: Serve fresh with warm pita.
Notes
Use a mix of green and black olives for variety.
Store in an airtight container in the fridge for 3–4 days.
Warak Enab (Vegetarian Stuffed Grape Leaves)
Description
Tender grape leaves wrapped around a savory rice and vegetable filling, cooked in a tangy broth.
Yields
30–40 pieces
Prep Time
45 minutes
Cook Time
1 hour–1 hour 15 minutes
Total Time
2 hours
Ingredients
For the Filling
1 cup short-grain rice (Egyptian or Calrose), rinsed
1 large tomato, finely diced
1 medium onion, finely diced
½ cup finely chopped fresh parsley
¼ cup finely chopped fresh mint
¼ cup fresh lemon juice
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon allspice
¼ teaspoon black pepper
1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses (optional)
For the Rolls
1 (16-ounce) jar preserved grape leaves, rinsed
For the Cooking Liquid
4–5 cups hot water
¼ cup fresh lemon juice
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
Equipment
Large wide pot (e.g., Dutch oven)
Heat-proof plate or small lid
Large bowl
Instructions
Prepare Grape Leaves: Rinse grape leaves under cold water to remove salt. Trim tough stems. Set aside torn leaves for lining.
Make Filling: In a large bowl, mix rice, tomato, onion, parsley, mint, lemon juice, olive oil, salt, allspice, black pepper, and pomegranate molasses (if using).
Stuff Leaves: Lay a grape leaf shiny-side down. Place 1–2 teaspoons filling near the base. Fold bottom over filling, fold in sides, and roll tightly upward. Repeat.
Layer in Pot: Line pot with torn grape leaves or sliced potatoes/tomatoes. Arrange rolls seam-side down in tight layers.
Add Liquid: Whisk hot water, lemon juice, olive oil, and salt. Pour over rolls until just covered. Place a heat-proof plate on top.
Cook: Bring to a boil, then simmer on low, covered, for 1 hour–1 hour 15 minutes until rice is tender. Add more water if needed.
Cool: Let cool in liquid. Remove plate and drain excess liquid.
Serve: Arrange on a platter with warm pita. Drizzle with reserved cooking liquid if desired.
Notes
Practice rolling for tight, uniform rolls.
Store in an airtight container in the fridge for 5–7 days or freeze for up to 3 months.
Mint Lemonade (Limonana)
Description
A frosty, tangy, minty drink, popular across the Levant.
Yields
4 servings
Prep Time
10 minutes
Cook Time
None
Total Time
40 minutes (including optional chilling)
Ingredients
1 cup fresh lemon juice (4–6 lemons)
½ cup fresh mint leaves, packed
½ cup sugar
3 cups cold water
1–2 cups ice (plus more for serving)
Lemon slices and mint sprigs for garnish (optional)
Equipment
Blender
Glasses
Instructions
Blend Base: In a blender, combine lemon juice, mint, sugar, and 1 cup water. Blend for 30 seconds until mint is finely chopped and sugar dissolves.
Add Ice and Water: Add remaining 2 cups water and 1–2 cups ice. Blend until slushy.
Taste: Adjust sugar or lemon juice as needed.
Chill (Optional): Refrigerate for 30 minutes for better flavor.
Serve: Pour over ice in glasses with warm pita on the side. Garnish with lemon slices and mint sprigs.
Notes
Use honey or agave for a healthier sweetener.
Freeze lemonade in ice cube trays to prevent dilution.
Store in the fridge for up to 2 days.
Manakeesh: Flatbread, Full Hearts
Manakeesh is ancient, its roots buried deep in Levantine soil, its scent woven into the morning air of Beirut and Baalbek alike. Topped with za'atar, a blend of sumac, thyme, sesame seeds, and olive oil, this flatbread is far more than a snack. It's Lebanon on a flatbread. The za'atar itself predates written history, used for millennia not just as seasoning, but as medicine, offering energy and clarity. UNESCO has recognized manakeesh and its traditional preparation as part of Lebanon's intangible cultural heritage. And it's easy to see why.
Sometimes called "Lebanese pizza," manakeesh is often considered ta'am al-faqir, the food of the poor, not as a mark of pity, but of pride. It's cheap, portable, nourishing, and everywhere. Schoolchildren eat it for breakfast. Workers wrap it in paper and carry it to job sites. Street vendors pull it hot from the oven and hand it over for coins. It's as common as conversation and just as vital. And like so many humble foods, manakeesh has shown up wherever people have risen up. In the early 2000s, as Lebanon began to throw off foreign occupation, this simple flatbread played an unexpected role in the country's political awakening.
By the early 2000s, Lebanon had been through civil war, foreign occupation, and the slow decay of whatever dreams were supposed to follow independence. Syrian forces had entered the country in 1976 as peacekeepers and never left. Through the war and after it, they tightened their grip, militarily, politically, and economically. By 2000, Damascus didn't just influence Lebanon; it ran it.
But that year, something changed. After 22 years of Israeli occupation, southern Lebanon was finally free. Under international pressure, Israel withdrew its troops in May 2000, and for the first time in a generation, there were no foreign boots on Lebanese soil. In the towns of Tyre, Bint Jbeil, and Nabatieh, people poured into the streets. They wept, they waved flags, and they baked. Ovens roared to life. Manakeesh flew out hot, sprinkled thick with za'atar and pride. The bread of the poor became the bread of the free.
It didn't last.
In 2005, former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri was assassinated in a massive car bombing. The blast tore through downtown Beirut, but the political shockwave was even greater. Hariri had been a towering figure, a symbol of Lebanon's post-war reconstruction, even if that reconstruction left many behind. His death was widely blamed on Syria's intelligence network in Lebanon. And the people had had enough.
They took to the streets by the hundreds of thousands. They filled Martyrs' Square with chants and flags and homemade signs. They demanded answers. They demanded sovereignty. They demanded that Syria leave.
And in the middle of it all, there was manakeesh.
Vendors wheeled carts into the crowd. Bakeries in West Beirut ran out of za'atar by noon. Protesters grabbed flatbread wrapped in paper, tore off pieces, and passed them around. It didn't matter what party you backed or what sect you prayed in; if you were hungry, you ate. Students, cab drivers, teachers, and grandmothers all stood shoulder to shoulder in the sun, one hand holding a flag, the other holding a piece of warm manakeesh.
The Cedar Revolution, as it came to be known, wasn't just about removing a foreign army. It was about reclaiming something more basic: the right to choose your own future. And in the streets, that future was built on small things, on the rhythm of footsteps, on chants in unison, on paper-wrapped bread still hot from the oven.
Syria withdrew its troops in April 2005. The people had won. But just like in 2000, the euphoria faded quickly. The same old factions dug back in. Foreign money still flowed. The warlords-turned-politicians still called the shots. And the manakeesh kept baking.
Manakeesh is something everyone must try. It's easy to make and delicious.
Manakeesh (Za'atar and Halloumi)
Description
Lebanese flatbreads topped with a savory za'atar and halloumi mixture, perfect for breakfast or snacks.
Yields
4 flatbreads
Prep Time
20 minutes (plus 1 hour rising)
Cook Time
8–10 minutes
Total Time
1 hour 30 minutes
Ingredients
For the Dough
1 teaspoon active dry yeast
150 ml warm water
250 g all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
2 tablespoons olive oil (plus more for greasing)
For the Topping
3 tablespoons za'atar spice blend
150 g halloumi cheese, grated
4 tablespoons olive oil
Extra olive oil for drizzling (optional)
Lemon wedges, for serving
Za'atar Blend (Yields ~½ cup)
4 tablespoons dried thyme (or mix of thyme, oregano, marjoram)
2 tablespoons sumac
¼ cup toasted sesame seeds
½–1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon ground cumin (optional)
¼ teaspoon Aleppo chili flakes (optional)
Equipment
Large mixing bowl
Plastic wrap
Baking sheet
Parchment paper
Box grater
Instructions
Activate Yeast: Dissolve yeast in warm water and let sit for 5–10 minutes until foamy.
Make Dough: In a large bowl, combine flour, salt, and sugar. Add yeast mixture and olive oil. Knead for 5 minutes until elastic. Form into a ball, oil lightly, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise in a warm place for 1 hour until doubled.
Prepare Topping: Mix za'atar with 4 tablespoons olive oil. Grate halloumi and stir into za'atar mixture.
Form Flatbreads: Punch down dough and divide into 4 equal pieces. Roll each into a 7–8 inch circle on a floured surface or parchment-lined baking sheet. Dimple surfaces with fingertips.
Top and Bake: Preheat oven to 400°F (200°C). Spread za'atar-halloumi mixture over flatbreads, leaving a small border. Drizzle with olive oil if desired. Bake for 8–10 minutes until edges are golden and cheese is bubbly.
Serve: Serve immediately with lemon wedges.
Mujadara: Lentils and Garbage
Mujadara is humble. A dish of lentils, rice, and caramelized onions. That's it. No meat. No cream. No imported spice rack. Just three ingredients that have fed the Arab world for centuries. First mentioned in cookbooks as far back as the 1200s, mujadara was—and still is—a meal of the masses. Arab Christians eat it during Lent. Jewish Arabs eat it during Tisha B'Av. And in Lebanon, it's long been a staple of the working class, across sect, faith, and region. You don't need much to make it, but it fills you up. Especially with a side of yogurt. Especially when there's nothing else. Which made it the perfect dish for 2015, the year Lebanon started to rot, literally.
Naameh landfill, the landfill that served as the landfill for the entire country of Lebanon, had been operating over capacity since 1997. In 2015, the government closed it, having received 15 million tons of waste for an intended capacity of 2 million tons of garbage. Without any alternatives, trash collection had stopped in Beirut and Mount Lebanon. Trash began piling on the streets during the heat of summer.
These mountains of garbage began piling up on sidewalks, overflowing into rivers, and cooking in the summer sun. The images in Beirut were visceral: black smoke from burning trash clouds, rats, and disease. But people didn't just view this as a sanitation failure. It was a symptom. A visible, visceral sign of a deeper rot: government corruption, clientelism, sectarian gridlock, and complete disregard for the public good.
The people didn't stay quiet.
On Facebook and WhatsApp, group chats lit up. The "You Stink" movement (طلعت ريحتكم) was born, an indictment not just of the garbage, but of the entire sectarian system that let it fester. Thousands poured into the streets, fed up with a political class that couldn't collect trash, let alone govern. Of course, with the streets stinking and rotten, food needed to be something that was as resilient as the movement itself.
Mujadara was cooked in big pots and carried down to protest camps in Tupperware and old metal trays. It was scooped onto plates, passed around to strangers-turned-comrades. People sat cross-legged on sidewalks, eating from the same bowl as they planned sit-ins, blockades, and speechesIn a movement that lacked political backing but brimmed with collective anger, mujadara grounded people.
The government mostly ignored the movement. Hezbollah used it as a PR opportunity but offered no real solutions. The army used tear gas and rubber bullets. Even as 20,000 people filled Riad el-Solh Square, even as a new political movement (Beirut Madinati) tried to turn protest into policy, the sectarian elite waited it out. Eventually, new landfills opened. The garbage disappeared. The movement faded.
But something had shifted.
"You Stink" didn't topple the regime, but it cracked the illusion of resignation. It showed what cross-sectarian anger could look like. It proved that the people, when fed up enough, could organize without warlords. Future movements would take note. Mujadara remains a working-class staple.
Mujadara is a very simple yet filling dish to make! Make sure to eat it with yogurt!
Mujadara (Lentils and Rice with Crispy Onions)
Description
A comforting dish of lentils and rice topped with crispy caramelized onions.
Yields
6–8 servings
Prep Time
20 minutes
Cook Time
1 hour–1 hour 10 minutes
Total Time
1 hour 30 minutes
Ingredients
1 cup small brown or green lentils (Pardina or Le Puy)
1 cup long-grain white rice, rinsed and soaked for 10–15 minutes
3 large yellow onions, divided (2 diced, 1 sliced for garnish)
¼ cup neutral oil (canola or safflower)
3 ½ cups water, divided
1 teaspoon kosher salt, divided
½ teaspoon ground cumin (optional)
Black pepper to taste
Extra virgin olive oil for drizzling
Optional: plain yogurt or cucumber-tomato salad for serving
Equipment
Fine-mesh strainer
Small saucepan
Large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven with lid
Large frying pan
Paper towel-lined plate
Instructions
Cook Lentils: Rinse lentils. In a saucepan, combine with 2 cups water and a pinch of salt. Boil, then simmer covered for 7–10 minutes until par-cooked. Set aside with liquid.
Caramelize Onions: In a large pot, heat neutral oil over medium-high. Add diced onions and ½ teaspoon salt. Cook for 20–30 minutes, stirring, until deep golden brown.
Cook Mujadara: Add 1 ½ cups water to onions, boil, and simmer for 3 minutes. Add drained rice, lentils with liquid, ½ teaspoon salt, cumin, and pepper. Boil, then simmer covered on low for 20–25 minutes until liquid is absorbed.
Make Crispy Onions: In a frying pan, heat olive oil over medium-high. Fry sliced onions in batches until crispy and golden. Drain on paper towels.
Rest: Let mujadara rest covered for 5–10 minutes. Fluff with a fork.
Serve: Top with crispy onions and a drizzle of olive oil. Serve with yogurt or salad.
Fattoush: Revolutionary Salad
Fattoush comes from northern Lebanon, where farmers fried leftover pita bread in olive oil and combined it with vegetables and herbs grown during harvests. Fattoush comes from the Arabic word "Fatteh," meaning "crumbs." It usually includes lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and radishes, with a dressing of sumac, lemon juice, and olive oil. It's a staple of Middle Eastern cuisine. It is traditionally a communal food and kept that tradition as it fed protesters in 2019 as Lebanon burned.
By October of that year, the country was collapsing. The economy had flatlined. The debt-to-GDP ratio had ballooned to 151%. Unemployment was soaring, especially among the young. Wildfires swept across the mountains, and the government had no helicopters to stop them. People were living in the dark; electricity outages were routine, clean water was unreliable, and trash once again began to pile up on sidewalks.
The sectarian power-sharing system established by the Taif Agreement, meant to keep the peace after the civil war, had calcified into a kleptocracy. Power was divided among 18 officially recognized religious sects, each with its own warlord-turned-politician, an interlocking web of "generator mafias." Public services became bargaining chips. Corruption was endemic. No one was really in charge, and everyone was cashing in.
Then, on October 17, the government proposed a tax on WhatsApp calls. A service that was free. A lifeline for the poor. A way to stay connected in a country where traditional phone plans were already outrageously expensive.
That was the final straw.
Within hours, the streets exploded.
From Beirut to Tripoli, Tyre to Baalbek, hundreds of thousands of people poured into the streets, not waving sectarian flags, but the Lebanese flag. No party banners. No religious slogans. Just chants, drums, and cardboard signs. It was the largest cross-sectarian protest in Lebanese history, with a slogan directed at the elites to match: "كلن يعني كلن" or "all of them means all of them."
In Beirut's city center, protesters turned the elite commercial zone into a living, breathing protest kitchen. Fattoush was made by the bucket. Volunteers carried tubs of it down to Martyrs' Square, to roadblocks, to sit-ins across the country. General strikes paralyzed the country. Students walked out of class. Bank workers joined the marches.
And the militias panicked.
The offices of Hezbollah, Amal, and the Free Patriotic Movement were vandalized, despite their attempts to publicly distance themselves from the system they helped prop up. Prime Minister Saad Hariri resigned just two weeks in. But the movement didn't stop.
Instead, it grew.
Protest camps expanded to include not just labor and student groups, but Lebanon's first large-scale LGBTQ+ civil rights demonstrations. Feminists marched with survivors of harassment. Christians, Muslims, Druze, Jews, and atheists sat side by side, breaking bread and breaking silence. Charging stations and pop-up libraries appeared. Medical tents treated injuries and exhaustion. And everywhere, everywhere, there was food. Especially fattoush.
Sumac and lemon helped cut through the heat. Crunchy fried pita reminded people they were still standing. Still chewing. Still together.
Fattoush was protest food. Not flashy. Not complicated. But resilient. And real. It traveled well. It multiplied easily. It could be made in bulk, in open air, on rooftops, in tents. It became one of the edible cornerstones of a revolution that rejected everything imposed by the old guard.
The caretaker government made token offers: subsidies, housing loans, but no structural change. Hezbollah, once seen as a resistance movement, turned its power against protesters. And yet the people held their ground, passing fattoush between them as they marched, as they demanded.
The protests didn't bring down the system. Not yet. But they fractured the illusion that it was permanent.
And fattoush is still with us. Still crisp. Still tart. Still quietly radical. A reminder that what you build with crumbs might be more nourishing than what the powerful build with palaces.
Making fattoush is easy! You should try!
Fattoush
Description
A zesty Lebanese bread salad with crispy pita, fresh vegetables, and a sumac-lemon dressing.
Yields
6 servings
Prep Time
20 minutes
Cook Time
5–7 minutes (for pita)
Total Time
30 minutes
Ingredients
For the Salad
1 large head romaine lettuce, chopped
1 large vine-ripe tomato, diced
2–3 Persian cucumbers, quartered or diced
½ large green pepper, chopped (optional)
5 radishes, thinly sliced
2 green onions, sliced
¼ cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
¼ cup chopped fresh mint leaves
For the Pita
2 double-ply pita breads, cut into shapes
3 tablespoons olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
For the Dressing
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 small garlic cloves, pressed or grated
1 teaspoon ground sumac
1 teaspoon pomegranate molasses (optional)
½ teaspoon dried mint (optional)
½ teaspoon salt
Black pepper to taste
Equipment
Large serving bowl
Small bowl for dressing
Large skillet or baking sheet
Instructions
Prepare Pita: For frying, heat olive oil in a skillet over medium. Fry pita pieces with salt and pepper for 5–7 minutes until crispy. For baking, preheat oven to 350°F (175°C), toss pita with oil, salt, and pepper, and bake for 10–15 minutes.
Prepare Vegetables: In a large bowl, combine lettuce, tomato, cucumbers, green pepper (if using), radishes, green onions, parsley, and mint.
Make Dressing: In a small bowl, whisk olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, sumac, pomegranate molasses, dried mint, salt, and pepper.
Assemble: Pour dressing over salad and toss. Add crispy pita just before serving.
Serve: Serve immediately.
Comments
Post a Comment