Beirutista

With a low red-brick fence, miniature street lamps, and a spacious outdoor terrace on its corner Hamra lot, Brick’s is an inviting pub-restaurant along Makdessi Street. Not one neighboring venue seemed as vibrant and alive as Brick’s on this particular Wednesday night when we showed up for dinner and drinks. The interior has a soft, cozy ambiance, with a portrait of Albert Einstein sticking his tongue out as he peers over guests. There’s a tile-topped island in the center of the room able to accommodate about a dozen people, as well as plush sofas against the wall ideal for couples and small groups.                               Every night the DJ spins soft rock, soul, R&B, and oldies—we were treated to tunes from the 90s like Des’ree’s “You Gotta Be” as well as the 60s hit “Wonderful World” by Sam Cooke. The choice of music ...

My fondest and most vivid memories of childhood involve my sweet mother. She is gently braiding my hair before school. She is waiting lovingly at the front door to greet me on my return home. She is generously heaping homemade food in a bowl for my afternoon meal—even though I’d just eaten the lunch she packed and sent with me for my midday recess. She is listening to me recite notes before the next day’s exam. She is peeling an orange for me to keep me hydrated and flush with nutrients. She is planting a kiss on my cheek as she tucks me into bed. My mother has always been my best friend. Good day or bad, she is the first to know. And she need not ask, because she can extract exactly how I feel from my voice. Sadly, I cannot be with her on the occasion of Mother’s Day, which we celebrate today in this part of the world to coincide with the advent of spring. She is nearly 7,500 miles away and nine time zones removed, but that doesn’t prevent us from talking several times each day. ...

15 days have passed by in a blur, and that's no surprise: vacations are always so fleeting. Happily I did what every self-respecting daughter and sister does when she reunites with her doting family. I joined my dad at the gym every morning of my first week (when the jet lag roused me from my slumber at dawn); I shopped passionately with my mom; I accompanied my brother on happy hour outings; and I gorged on homemade comfort food. My cheeks are noticeably ruddier, and I am totally refreshed. I'm heading back to Beirut two big bags in tote, because nobody comes to the USA and leaves lighter. I'd almost forgotten how convenient life in these states could be. Driving is therapeutic, almost like clockwork with sensor-controlled traffic lights, speed limits, stop signs, and vigilant police officers to enforce them inflexibly. People actually drive cheerfully and passively, and if you're a pedestrian, even before you alight to the street level, all vehicles quickly stop...

As I sit here waiting for my flight to board, a rush of thoughts storms my mind. I'm thinking how great it is to be heading “home,” my childhood home, the place where I grew up. It's been exactly a year and four months since I last visited, a year and four months that I haven't seen my two brothers, and thus this trip is a year and four months overdue. My parents spent a fair amount of time with me in Beirut last year, but they returned to Southern California a while back. I miss them, too. It's no easy voyage: a 5.5-hour stretch to London Heathrow, a couple hours of layover, and then a connecting 11-hour flight to Los Angeles. Between baggage check-in, security checks, actual air time, customs, and baggage claim, it's a daylong exertion. 24 hours devoid of sleep and in its stead, back-to-back movies, less-than-mediocre flight meals, discomforted babies, and desiccating cabin pressure. But it's a small price to pay for what awaits me in the arrival hall of...

There’s a reason they call it “pub food.” It’s your mundane hash of chicken wings, fries, greasy nachos, cheese-flavored poppers, and maybe the odd quesadilla. Pubs aren’t known to entertain a mature menu worthy of a gourmet. Drinks are the real profit centers, with some quick, light snacks merely fuel to keep the drinking cycle in motion. That is definitely not the case at Secteur 75. The old house-turned-resto-pub sitting on a corner street along Rue d’Armenie in Mar Mikhael features very lavish chandeliers and gold-framed paintings to juxtapose paint-chipped walls. The graffiti art in one of the venue’s rooms teeters on avant garde, and the furniture varies markedly from table to table. But perhaps the real showpiece is not the captivating aesthetics of Secteur 75. It’s the food. We came in on Saturday afternoon close to 2pm for the weekly brunch. The regular dining menu—a nice, trim page fastened to a wooden clipboard—is also available, supplementing about a dozen brunch-y d...

Restaurants in Lebanon are guilty of many misdemeanors, and it’s time someone spoke up. These faux pas have tainted my dining experience on some level, and hard as I try to avoid them, I see them unfolding before me time and time again. How many of the below offenses have you been subject to? 1.        Uncorking a bottle of water at your table and charging you for it without your approval . I’d say fair and square 90% of eateries in Lebanon commit this act on a regular basis. I don’t mind the water if I’m not ordering a soft drink, juice, or other beverage, but dear waiter, just as your title dictates, WAIT for my cue! Often those restaurants excitedly popping off the tops of water bottles charge you exorbitantly for them. In Lebanese mezze venues, water bottles are typically already on the table and hence engraved on the tab even before you saunter in. 2.        Quite possibly more heinous than charging you for an...

Every so often a restaurant comes along that totally knocks you off your feet. I’m not referring merely to good food, but expectations far surpassed. You harbor little or no prospects, and then the restaurant not only pleases but surprises you with its flair. Yesterday was one such rare experience, at Olivos inside the Radisson Blu Martinez hotel in Ain Mreisseh. We arrived at 2.15pm on a Sunday afternoon to a spacious dining salon. The Mediterranean restaurant doubles as an atrium, with rays of sunshine streaking in to the center of the room, and dimmer, tucked-away seating on the fringe. We seated ourselves just as a shy waitress peeked out from the kitchen and hastened to our side. Moments later, a very friendly restaurant manager named Nabil made his way over, welcoming us to Olivos and promising a very pleasant lunch. While we pored over the menu—which features 9 appetizers, 8 mains, 6 pizzas, 4 pastas, and 4 desserts, followed by an Arabic mezze offering—t...

Studio 43 ushers in a whole new concept to Lebanese food lovers with its original mezza buffet. Picture this: a trolley of over two dozen cold mezza appetizers that you can gorge on to your heart’s content as many times as you please. We’re talking the entire rustic hodgepodge: hindbeh, mdardra, fattet batenjen, labneh bi zeitoun w jalapeno, karnabit mekleh, bulghur bi banadoura, ma7esheh 2ate3 (including eggplant, zucchini, and grape leaves), hummus, kibbet batata, kibbet la2tine, kibbe 2rass bi 7ar w labneh, and a whole lot more!   The restaurant is perched on high in the popular Cour Saint Michel, which is also home to Sud and Bar Tartine. Mount the Spanish-style stairs and turn either left or right to be greeted by comfortable open-air seating with a view of diners below. Inside, you can opt to sit strategically close to the mezza bar in the nonsmoking section, or on the opposite end, where you have the liberty to puff at an arguileh.  As soon as you even sit, ...

It’s difficult not to take advantage of the proximity of Beirut Souks’ Cinema City, which is just a few hundred meters from my office. As such, I’ve occasionally found myself making a beeline for the movies in the early evening right after work, rather than curse my fate behind the wheel at the treacherous peak hour traffic. Yesterday was one such night. Rather spontaneously, I popped into the cinema, scanned the list of available screenings and show times, saw Mark Wahlberg’s name in the list of actors for “Lone Survivor,” and quickly nabbed a ticket. Two minutes later, I was settled comfortably in a near-empty stadium that could easily host 300 viewers. A young adolescent couple in the nosebleed seats and a few middle-aged men in suits (also looking to dodge traffic?) were my movie companions. “Lone Survivor” tells the story of four Navy SEALs who, on June 28, 2005, were tasked with the mission of capturing or killing a Taliban ringleader and his minions in the mountains of Afg...