Yes it’s literally underground. Twelve steps down (I counted, twice) under one of those old Achrafieh buildings with the arched windows I keep drawing over and over.
Why I love it
Because the oven is older than me, the man behind it calls everyone habibti regardless of age or gender, and the zaatar man2oucheh comes out folded like a little letter.
It’s the cutest little place ever, I think. No menu, no wifi, no nonsense.
A little secret
Go before 8am. After that the whole neighbourhood is there and you’ll have to fight a teta for the last cheese one. (You’ll lose. Trust me.)
This place is the reason my Achrafieh poster exists, by the way. I sketched the first lines on a napkin right there.
