My Utter Disappointment with the Beirut Cooking Festival
I’m going to be honest, brutally honest. You could say this
post is borderline ranting, which I generally attempt to avoid. But today,
words will be minced.
The subject? Beirut Cooking Festival & Salon du Chocolat
expositions.
Date of incident? Last week.
Location? Biel Pavilion, or whatever remains of Biel.
Level of satisfaction: rock bottom.
Likelihood of returning in future years: abysmally low.
Here’s the thing. Nobody is a stauncher supporter of gourmet
festivals than I am. Year in and year out, I look forward with earnest to Horeca, the largest food festival in the Middle East and more extravagant
counterpart to the Beirut Cooking Festival. Here you can find a slew of exhibitors, from local wineries (Nakad, Qanafar) and beer distilleries (961,
Almaza) to nut roasteries (Krikita, Castania), bread houses (Prunelle), cheesemakers (Taanayel, Khoury), and a whole lot more. It’s a veritable trade show for the hospitality
and food service industry.
What once had the magical makings of a Halloween trick-or-treat parade for
adults—gliding from stand to stand, being greeted with warm smiles and
oftentimes intriguing demonstrations, and collecting an endless array of edible
goodies—has now morphed into a tightfisted affair where close to
nothing can be sampled and the name of the game is retail swindling.
Swindling, you say? Swindling, I dare say.
But wait, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s back up a
little bit, which if you’re driving to the fair will prove nearly impossible.
Just getting to the pavilion where it’s all housed is an expedition in its own
right.
At the moment, Biel resembles a vast minefield with huge tractors
and trucks hauling boulders, rocks and uprooted concrete. The labyrinthine path blazed to the pavilion is stricken with
protruding manholes and dirt everywhere. Even if you elect to park in the lot
at the entrance to Biel and hop on the “free shuttle,” plan to slither your way
around the Biel maze at slug speeds of 1 mile per hour tops.
For those souls who brave their way to the main door, the entrance fee is 10,000 LL.
Fair enough, weed out the riffraff and freeloaders. But what you don’t realize
is that you just paid admission to enter a mall food court. Hardly anything is
offered inside!
I trekked from stand to stand, listening intently to what the
vendor had to say about her extraordinary (not) product, and its versatile
(not) uses. You put in the time, but there’s no remote semblance of a reward at
the end, only items for purchase.
Don’t they know the basics of sales and marketing? Lure
customers in with bait—free nibbles—and once you wow them, seal the deal. Nope—these
misers want to have your cake and eat it, too.
One happy exception was ChefXchange, whose collaborating
chef Farid Chehab of Kitchen Central wielded delicious epicurean canapés as
well as live cooking to attract aimless wanderers. Given that ChefXchange is a foreign startup run by savvy international entrepreneurs, they understand the
canons of PR and marketing and weren’t looking to generate their year’s bottom
line at the Beirut Cooking Festival, as other stands had hoped.
The ChefXchange stand, manned by Franco-Lebanese co-founder Karl Naim |
Dainty canapés offered by ChefXchange |
Next to them, too, Jaber Jaber & Sons hailing from the Bekaa Valley boasted about a dozen various cheeses and
strained yogurt for open tasting. They were the second anomaly in a sea of
scrooges. It seems East Lebanon alone still has a firm handle on Lebanese hospitality.
I’d been preparing myself mentally and physically for a
criminal overload of chocolate and other sweet treats, but I actually left with
a bittersweet taste of dissatisfaction. That and of an amorphous stale cookie suspiciously offered
to me—the fresh-baked batch had a price tag. Sheesh.
One ice cream maker advertised a cup of their frozen novelty
for a whopping 12,000 LL! Who would pay 22,000 LL, between festival entry fee
and product, for a couple licks of sweet ice?
The crowds were unsurprisingly congregated around the fast
food stands—the unfailing Em Ali, Abul 3ezz Grill, El Gringo Tex-Mex, l’Os and
others. Well, no duh, where else could you fill your paunch? You pay, you eat. That’s
what this fair despicably comes down to.
I learned my lesson (and it seems I'm not alone! Shout-out to Beyond Beirut's wonderful post). Next year, if by some unforeseen
phenomenon I am dragged back (with legs kicking) to this food swap meet, I’m
bringing my own pantry in tote.
And let it be known: I’ll be happy to share with curious onlookers, free of charge.
Enjoyed your rant and prose. Time to charge readers, hey��
ReplyDeleteDamn. I had to pay to comment here.
ReplyDeleteI haven't been to this festival for the past couple of years. Which means I've only been there 3 years ago. I intended to visit with no hopes or expectations because I knew that there wouldn't be any notable change.
As a food blogger who us curious about recipes, prep methods, and ingredients, I was very disappointed. The festival was a housewives gathering and brand exposition than it actually featuring food as a star. I would say the same about Horeca to be honest.
I'm glad I didn't go and waste my time and money. I was gaining kitchen experience and earning some money at the time.
Dear Beirutista,
ReplyDeleteThank you for attending our Beirut Cooking Festival and Salon du Chocolat.
We are sorry to hear you didn’t enjoy your experience.
We would love to hear your ideas so please send your contact details to lisa@hospitalityservices.com.lb.
Wishing you the best,
Lisa Jerejian
Community Manager
Hospitality Services s.a.r.l