2/5 Mario A. 2 years ago on Google
Scoring
an
epic
selfie
on
the
edge
of
a
cliff
overlooking
a
marvelous
seaview
is
one
of
the
common
top
10
things
on
any
tourist's
bucket
list.
High
on
that
list
for
me,
however,
sits
a
Kaaket
Knéféh
Chmeliyyé
with
extra
syrup:
my
most
spiritually
rewarding,
overly
delicious,
700-calorie
temporary
mistress
my
hands
get
to
hold
on
a
cold,
rainy
day
at
8:00am
in
downtown
Beirut.
Chmeliyyé
means
northern,
meaning
the
version
done
with
ashta
(clotted
cream),
as
opposed
to
the
Beirut-style,
gooey
cheese
version.
Enter
Hallab
in
Hadat:
think
gloomy
&
sad
without
saying
gloomy
&
sad.
The
last
time
I
stepped
into
one,
Fairuz
was
happy.
A
melange
of
fragrances,
rose
water,
fresh
coffee,
pistachio
paste
and
orange
blossom
once
greeted
your
senses
before
the
humans
uttered
anything.
But
today,
the
shrunken
Borma
portions
and
the
absent
Maamoul
Madd
trays
spelled
this
branch's
condolences
to
bucket
lists
like
mine.
No
fault
of
the
masters,
folks.
The
country
is
in
turmoil-
and
it
is
no
time
for
bashing.
But
the
utter,
inexcusable,
horrific
injury
to
the
once-upon-a-time
soft,
chewable
semolina
heritage:
Microwaved
Knefeh
!!
What
?!
Foreign
tourists:
On
behalf
of
the
orthodox
creameries
and
margarine-producing
ancestors
of
this
nation
who
are
spinning
in
their
graves,
please
accept
our
sincere
condolences
for
a
hallmark
brand
that
just
spelled
its
own
demise.
Please
do
not
tell
Rifaat.
He
competes,
but
he
won't
take
this
lightly,
nor
will
Fouad
El
Jerr.
Enough
madness
!
1881
should
be
a
UN
resolution
to
rescind
this
branch's
access
to
any
form
of
sugar
syrup.
But
wait,
the
kaaké
survives.
It's
soft,
the
best
at
what
it
does
yet
lonely.
Get
your
act
together
guys:
don't
mess
with
the
knéféh.
The
microwave
does
not
belong
in
shops
like
yours.