Dear reader,
With everything going on politically in this country, and with all of us basically watching things happen above us and having no control over it, I think one of the few things I can still say with certainty is that the biggest lie in Lebanon remains: “Come up for five minutes, we’ll just have coffee.”
It creeps up on you out of nowhere — when you’re least expecting it. You’re downstairs, or nearby, or passing by to give something, and a member of the family insists, “Come up.” You say no because you know exactly where this is going. They say, “No wallah, just coffee, the rakweh is already on the stove.” You say you’re full, you even start giving details nobody asked for — just to make the point very clear. But none of this matters to them; you must come up.
Then you go up, and for around two minutes, it really looks like you can get out of there after a quick coffee. The cups come out, the upstairs neighbors join, and everyone sits down. So far, things are calm. Then someone looks at the table, and you can almost see the thought forming in the host’s head. It beams through their eyes: shame — how can a guest sit in their house and all they’ve offered them is coffee! After they come into that sense of realization, it’s over for you.
Suddenly, someone gets up and calls on the younger member. You can hear the fridge open, the microwave beep, and the stove clicks. And then out of nowhere, the food starts appearing on the table. Bread, labneh, halloumi — “it’s baladeh, so you must taste it,” — and some leftover mjaddara that was cooked with divine oil.
And the thing is, you can’t even refuse because refusing food in Lebanon, as I’ve mentioned several times before, is a personal attack. You say you’re full, and then everyone is hurt. “Why? You don’t like it?” “Just one bite.” “Take, take, it’s nothing.” But it's never “nothing”. It’s bread, cheese, leftovers, maybe fruit after, and then something sweet because “coffee needs something sweet.”
So you eat, and stuff yourself to ease the tension in the room — we’ve all been there, where are my people pleasers at? You eat because apparently this is what peace requires. Not negotiations and concessions, just eating.
And then comes the part where you have to leave, which is a different story in itself. You stand up, and nobody reacts. You say you should go, and someone says, “Already?” as if you haven’t been there for three hours. You make it to the door, finally, and that’s when they bring the bag. Leftovers. Always leftovers. Stacked up in tupperwares in a Red Shoe bag. You say no, they insist and tell you to take it to your family. And now your family has somehow been dragged into the negotiation, so you lose.
With summer finally coming along and our collective craving for desserts spiking, you shouldn't have to wait for someone to force a sweet bite on you at the end of a hostage meal. If you want to satisfy that summer sweet tooth on your own terms, try Karim Arsanios' meringue and blackberry coulis with arak and Charles Azar's strawberry pistachio tart on Breton shortbread, wild berry sorbet.
Melissa Manouchakian
Distribution editor
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