It was a cold December day when she and I decided to hang out and have fun in Washington D.C. It was freezing but I didn’t feel it. The warmth and the liveliness of her presence made me forget the chilling weather. With arms across each other, we walked, joked, laughed and jumped. I was happy and so she was.
We decided to have dinner first. What else than Middle Eastern food we wanted to enjoy?!
Just as my feet walked through the restaurant door, I felt disconnected from the outside world. Every restaurant has its own aroma but the scent here was completely different. It was just what I wanted, what I missed. The whole place flew me back to the world where I belong. It took me back to our restaurants, to my mother kitchen, to the old days in Baghdad’s restaurants and cafés.
As we ambled inside, we were welcomed by a tan Middle Eastern-looking waiter.
“A table for two, please,” we said. “O.K. Fifteen minutes and the table will be ready,” he said. We were surprised since the restaurant was crowded with a dozen people assembled at the entrance waiting for their tables to be ready.
We sat at a cushion-covered, wooden couch wrapped up with Middle Eastern colorful ornamentation. The walls above us were filled with framed newspaper articles telling us the struggle of a poor Lebanese family in creating this fancy restaurant. From the Washington Post, The New York Times to Arab newspapers clips, the articles narrated how Abi Najim family started their restaurant, The Lebanese Taverna, from scratch. Next to them, a Washingtonian Award was enclosed in a black and white frame attracting the attention of any new visitor.
For me, the place wasn’t a mere restaurant. It was a mixture of the traditional Arab café, a bar, and a restaurant. Next to me sat two men playing Tawli, backgammon. The sound of the dice hitting the Egyptian wooden-made backgammon took me back to the days where my friends and I used to play it in Baghdad’s cafés that overlooked the Tigris after a long day at work. It also took me back to my father’s fondness of the game which he never missed when he was among his friends or relatives.
“I bought one of these expensive Egyptian-made backgammons to my Dad,” I recalled. I knew what makes him happy.
The table in front of us was made of copper. Engraved with a similar ornamentation like that on the couch, it forces the looker ogle at how every corner and space were filled with this beautiful oriental art.
It was less than fifteen minutes when the waiter led us to our table. My eyes were still examining the place. They were checking everything. The ceiling, the wooden chairs and even the table which looked exactly like the ones we had in our Iraqi restaurants, which are no longer welcoming guests.
We sat facing each other. I stared at her. She was as happy as I was. Like me, the place reminded her with her days in the Middle East. I looked into her eyes. They were glowing out of joy and relief. “I am so glad you are finally safe,” she told me. I looked at her and smiled. I knew my smile was an enough answer. Being with her is something different. I feel I am amazingly happy. I knew I did the right thing by spending the winter break with her. I knew we’ll both be happy. Our friendship is not a mere friendship. It is a brother-sister relationship. I love her like I love my own sister. She compensates my heartbreaking farness between me and my sister in Iraq.
The two menus the waiter gave us were unbelievably filled with an amazing blend of Middle Eastern dishes. I stared at my menu. I wanted to order everything. I miss all what they serve. They had falafel, Kibbe, mixed grills, Quzi, kebab, kufta, different kinds of rice and Mezza’s like Hummus, Mutabbal, Baba Ganoush, Teboole, fatoosh, foul w Tammiya, Msebaha, and so many different salads.
I ordered Mixed Grills while she preferred Quzi. As for mezzas, we had Hummus, Baba Ganoush, Lebne, and teboole. For drinks, we had beer.
“Eid Saeed,” she told me as our glasses clanged over the wooden, mezza-filled table. “Eid Saeed. Cheers,” I said with joy filling my heart. It was one of the best nights I’ve ever enjoyed.
baghdadtreasure@gmail.com
We decided to have dinner first. What else than Middle Eastern food we wanted to enjoy?!
Just as my feet walked through the restaurant door, I felt disconnected from the outside world. Every restaurant has its own aroma but the scent here was completely different. It was just what I wanted, what I missed. The whole place flew me back to the world where I belong. It took me back to our restaurants, to my mother kitchen, to the old days in Baghdad’s restaurants and cafés.
As we ambled inside, we were welcomed by a tan Middle Eastern-looking waiter.
“A table for two, please,” we said. “O.K. Fifteen minutes and the table will be ready,” he said. We were surprised since the restaurant was crowded with a dozen people assembled at the entrance waiting for their tables to be ready.
We sat at a cushion-covered, wooden couch wrapped up with Middle Eastern colorful ornamentation. The walls above us were filled with framed newspaper articles telling us the struggle of a poor Lebanese family in creating this fancy restaurant. From the Washington Post, The New York Times to Arab newspapers clips, the articles narrated how Abi Najim family started their restaurant, The Lebanese Taverna, from scratch. Next to them, a Washingtonian Award was enclosed in a black and white frame attracting the attention of any new visitor.
For me, the place wasn’t a mere restaurant. It was a mixture of the traditional Arab café, a bar, and a restaurant. Next to me sat two men playing Tawli, backgammon. The sound of the dice hitting the Egyptian wooden-made backgammon took me back to the days where my friends and I used to play it in Baghdad’s cafés that overlooked the Tigris after a long day at work. It also took me back to my father’s fondness of the game which he never missed when he was among his friends or relatives.
“I bought one of these expensive Egyptian-made backgammons to my Dad,” I recalled. I knew what makes him happy.
The table in front of us was made of copper. Engraved with a similar ornamentation like that on the couch, it forces the looker ogle at how every corner and space were filled with this beautiful oriental art.
It was less than fifteen minutes when the waiter led us to our table. My eyes were still examining the place. They were checking everything. The ceiling, the wooden chairs and even the table which looked exactly like the ones we had in our Iraqi restaurants, which are no longer welcoming guests.
We sat facing each other. I stared at her. She was as happy as I was. Like me, the place reminded her with her days in the Middle East. I looked into her eyes. They were glowing out of joy and relief. “I am so glad you are finally safe,” she told me. I looked at her and smiled. I knew my smile was an enough answer. Being with her is something different. I feel I am amazingly happy. I knew I did the right thing by spending the winter break with her. I knew we’ll both be happy. Our friendship is not a mere friendship. It is a brother-sister relationship. I love her like I love my own sister. She compensates my heartbreaking farness between me and my sister in Iraq.
The two menus the waiter gave us were unbelievably filled with an amazing blend of Middle Eastern dishes. I stared at my menu. I wanted to order everything. I miss all what they serve. They had falafel, Kibbe, mixed grills, Quzi, kebab, kufta, different kinds of rice and Mezza’s like Hummus, Mutabbal, Baba Ganoush, Teboole, fatoosh, foul w Tammiya, Msebaha, and so many different salads.
I ordered Mixed Grills while she preferred Quzi. As for mezzas, we had Hummus, Baba Ganoush, Lebne, and teboole. For drinks, we had beer.
“Eid Saeed,” she told me as our glasses clanged over the wooden, mezza-filled table. “Eid Saeed. Cheers,” I said with joy filling my heart. It was one of the best nights I’ve ever enjoyed.
baghdadtreasure@gmail.com
