A Beirut Landscape - Le Chef

It is not easy to find though it is, ironically, in plain view, right on rue Gouraud, just before the Saint Nicholas stairs, on the right.

Those climb up the gentle hill from Gemmayze’s main street to the illustrious Sursock mansions overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

Down on rue Gouraud, the atmosphere is definitely more bohemian. Le Chef fits in perfectly, with its sign in red block letters, the same since it first opened, a neighbourhood eatery serving traditional Lebanese cuisine since the 1960s.

Le Chef is small, unpretentious, and cheap. The doorknob is a little rusty. Tourists walk right past it. The locals let them; this is a secret you earn and keep.

There are, after all, less than twenty-five seats in this family-run restaurant. No fancy menu items or décor, but as authentically Beirut as it gets. The menu is written by hand. Neither it nor the specials have changed since before the civil war.

Kharouf mihshe on Mondays. Stuffed lamb with onions and garlic cloves. Classics like kibbe, minced meat pies doused with cool yogurt and fresh mint, moghrabiye and its seven spices, siyyadiye, fish over rice, with a sauce… oh that lemony sauce. And mloukhiye, my long-time favourite of all.

Depending on the day, the smells of cinnamon, coriander, cumin, caraway, and diced onions will waft down the street, triggering memories of school night dinners of steaming stew over rice and lavish Sunday feasts at home.

Walking in feels like coming home too. The actual chef, Charbel, calls out Welcome! from the kitchen as he whips up some more hummus. It is loud inside, and tight; elbows will touch in between tables, but that just makes for an excuse to chat.

Stories and bites of food are exchanged. And toasts of milky, licoricey arak, sipped alongside the meal. That is, until it is time for dessert and a thimble of Turkish coffee.

Dinner is cheap and hearty, the portions as generous as the laughter and voices are loud. Goodbyes are See you next time! Maa assalama! May your travels be safe.

Few places have been left untouched by war and life and time in Lebanon. This is one of them; in Le Chef, the moujaddara tastes like my mother’s.

The whole place tastes of a culture and spirit that I have only found in Beirut. A warmth and hospitality, a specific blend of spices, the kind one gets homesick for.

My parents introduced my siblings and me to Le Chef. On a Thursday, I remember because I had the mloukhiye. Life has since taken us each different places. We get together when we can, and fill each other in on what we missed. Often, we go to Le Chef. There, the doorknob is still rusty and the mural, slightly peeled. The food and company are as good as ever. Someday, I’ll bring my children here.

Author’s note:

Dear reader, if you one day find yourself strolling down rue Gouraud and hungry for a good meal, stop by Le Chef. You will find it to your right just before the Saint Nicholas’ Stairs.

Phone Number: +961 1 445 373