I still vividly remember my first encounter with Tawlet. It was 2011, and I’d
been in Lebanon for nearly a month when my friend Sarah K., who at the time was
working with now-defunct
group-buying site GoNabit, told me about an amazing deal on the site. “Women from the community are brought in to cook traditional dishes from their villages, and this way, you're treated to the real tastes of
Lebanese rural cuisine.”
Interesting, I thought to myself. It was true inasmuch that
any run-of-the-mill Lebanese restaurant won’t serve you typical home-cooking;
the food spread is unequivocally mezza and mashewe (grills). But here was a
restaurant that was employing homemakers to both showcase their unique dishes
and, in so doing, preserve the authenticity of their respective regions.
I nabbed a pair of vouchers, and Dad and I went to the Mar Mikhael eatery. We were
mind-blown. The dining space is admittedly crowded, so you’re bound to rub
elbows with your neighbors, purposefully promoting conversation and community. We
tucked in to a small table by the window, and to our side was a woman visiting
from India, totally swooning over the food. In fact, all around us, we
noticed expats and embassy employees convivially chatting over rustic dishes –
here were folks who wouldn’t necessarily be exposed to genuine Lebanese
cooking.
That day, we had the rare honor of meeting Kamal Mouzawak,
the founder and visionary beyond not only Tawlet, as we quickly learned, but
Souk el Tayeb, Lebanon’s first farmer’s market. We sipped on homemade Arak as
Kamal described his noble endeavor, which was not merely enlightening
foreigners as to our rich spread and history of food, but to provide productive
channels through which rural villagers could put their culinary skills to the test
and charm diners. In fact, it is they who hospitably serve you at the buffet
lineup.
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| The "producers" at Tawlet Saida |
Over the years, I came to be a tacit champion of Tawlet, and
I don’t mean by simply dining there. But yes, we did grace the Mar Mikhael
stronghold every time my parents were in town.
We even trekked up to Ammiq in the Bekaa to explore the
Tawlet outlet there, a veritable bastion of eco-friendliness with its high
environmental performance rating, a thermal envelope, naturally-assisted
cooling, solar water heating, and 80% less energy consumption than a
conventional construction.
In 2016, the Prince Claus Fund for Culture and Development solicited my input on the work of Kamal as a Lebanese chef,
food activist, and founder of Lebanon's organic food movement, Souk el Tayeb,
and the associated producer's kitchen Tawlet. Kamal went on to be selected as a
Prince Claus Laureate and was honored at a ceremony in Amsterdam.
Last Sunday, we came full circle on our visit to the latest
of the Tawlet locations in Saida. Perched above the fisherman’s market just
across from the port at the edge of the old souks, this space captures the
essence of Kamal’s vision to staff exclusively locals, both producers and
servers, and to gather people around dishes from the region.
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| Tawlet is fully staffed by local artisans |
The lavish spread featured as mains chicken shawarma baked
in the oven with herbed potato spears; “fattet lsenet,” or a dish layering
fried pita chips, boiled chickpeas, cow’s tongue, and yogurt; “siyaddieh” with
turmeric-tinged rice and grouper fish; and “fassolia,” or bean stew. Mezza revolved around tabbouleh, fattouch, hummus, fish tajen, rolled up “lahm
baajin” or meat pies with tangy pomegranate molasses, and – my favorite – "jrisheh" flatbread boasting a trio of toppings: cheese and sesame seeds, zaatar, and bruschetta.
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| Baked chicken shawarma with herbed potato spears |
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| Can you stomach cow's tongue stew? |
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| Broad beans stew, or "fassolia" |
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| Tabbouleh |
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| Lahm baajin meat pies wrapped into rolls |
Jrisheh, formed from cracked wheat and flavored with aniseed, is both supple
and textured with seeds. If you like more complex breads, you’re going to love
this!
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| "Jrisheh" flatbread is soft and flavored with aniseed |
Dessert, too, was a lesson in the local sweet palate: a
fluffy, light-as-air "sfouf," or sponge cake borrowing its yellow hue from turmeric; "maamoul madd," or semolina cookies sandwiching date paste or crushed pistachio; “az7a,” or nubs
of carob molasses with black sesame seeds and zaatar; coconut macaroons; a goldenrod paste hybridizing sfouf and tahineh, or sesame seed oil; and a baked pan evocative of "knefeh" but far gooier
and heart-warming.
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| Local sweets, including "sfouf" sponge cake tinted with turmeric |
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| "Azha" nibbles formed from carob molasses and black sesame seeds |
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| Warm molten cheese, flour, semolina...this is knefeh's lighter cousin! |
There’s also a selection of seasonal fruit, like persimmon,
apples, bananas, and pomegranate, but it’s hard to give them the time of day
when you’re flanked by never-before-seen novelties!
We washed it all down with lemonade and coffee – note that
this outlet of Tawlet does not serve Arak, in a nod to the customs of the local
community. Manager Zaher and server Arouba doted on us in what I can only
describe as local hospitality. Plates were changed and requests filled in a
matter of seconds.
During our visit, Tawlet throbbed with life. We arrived
around noon, before lunch service when you can order brunch items like
scrambled eggs or foul mdammas à la
carte. We watched the producers sway rhythmically
around the kitchen, bringing to life a feast of tastes and flavors for guests
to gorge on. And we made small-talk with Zaher, who as it turns out has friends in common with my husband’s parents – the Lebanese “small world” connection.
On our way down from the dining space, we peeked into the Tawlet shop lined with "mouneh" (pantry) items and snatched up a bag of zaatar zahra, the sun-dried format before it has been ground into a
fine powder. We browsed the ancient souks where shops and residences still sit
proudly, and we bought tahineh.
Nothing like being a tourist in your own country. I’ve urged
you before to discover Lebanon through the earnest eyes of a visitor, because all
too often we get lost in the dust of quotidian life. Tawlet executes that
charge to a T, reminding us of the beauty nestled among us and forcing us to
abdicate our relentless, rapacious schedules, even if for only a few hours, and go home.
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| Baby Stephen enjoyed "riz w laban," or vermicelli rice with plain yogurt |
Tawlet Saida opens
Tuesday through Sunday from 10 AM to 4 PM. Breakfast is served until 1 PM. The
Sunday lunch buffet is priced at LBP 50,000 (USD 33).
Saida Old Souks across
from the port
+961 7 733 899
+961 81 707 240
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