أراكيل
Shisha
M3assal or Ajami, carried to your chair and kept lit. A fresh head whenever the table wants one.
450,000 – 800,000 L.L.
Zahr el Laymoun
A café in the heart of Haret Hreik — coffee, saj and shisha under warm light, on ground that was once all lemon groves.
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جديدنا
Since the groves
Before the streets, this whole stretch of the southern suburb was lemon groves. The name keeps them: زهر الليمون — lemon blossom.
What that means at the table is unhurried. Turkish coffee comes on an oak tray turned in the house colours, its wells cut for the cup and the water glass, the wordmark burned in between them. Tea is Ajami, poured by the pot for two, four or eight — because nobody here comes alone.
Coffee, saj off the dome, a nargileh, and someone singing by the glass wall until late.
Order these first
أراكيل
M3assal or Ajami, carried to your chair and kept lit. A fresh head whenever the table wants one.
450,000 – 800,000 L.L.
قهوة تركية
Brass rakwe, white finjan, water on the side. Small, medium or large.
150,000 – 250,000 L.L.
شاي عجمي
By the pot, in silvered holders — for two, four, or a table of eight.
200,000 – 600,000 L.L.Two rooms and a terrace
المكان
Five steps from the counter to the terrace. Scroll and walk it.





الكاونتر
Espresso, the rakwe on the flame, and the day's juice all come off this one counter at the front.
Round wooden tables and rattan armchairs deep enough to sit in for two hours. Nobody rushes you out.
The nargileh line up on the shelf in rows, waiting. M3assal or Ajami, brought to your chair.
Through the glass wall at the back, where the gold light and most of the noise come from.
Most nights someone is singing out there, and the room ends up clapping along.
Come by
زورونا