No. 01
The Famous Knafeh Situation
Crisp pastry, stretchy cheese, a snowfall of pistachio, and a pour of rose syrup at the table while everyone pretends they are not filming it.
Every plate is somebody's favourite childhood snack, wearing a costume.
We cook the way we grew up, with too many opinions and not enough quiet. Every plate is somebody's favourite childhood snack wearing a costume. We take it seriously and we refuse to act serious about it. If a dish makes you laugh before you taste it, we are doing the job right.
It started with three brothers who could never agree on lunch. One wanted his grandmother's stew, one wanted a giant dessert, one wanted to set something on fire for fun. So they built a bistro big enough for all three arguments at once. Tarek runs the hot side and yells the most. Sami bakes like the world is ending tomorrow. Nadim freezes everything and stays suspiciously calm. The food is Syrian at heart, ridiculous on the plate, and served like a family dinner that got out of hand.
Six plates the brothers argue about most. Swipe through and pick your fight.
Because they usually are, and they will absolutely tell you if the salt is off.
We season for joy first. If a plate cannot make a table laugh, it goes back to the drawing board.
Nothing on this menu is meant to be eaten alone. Bring people, bring appetite, bring opinions.
This is roughly what dinner looks like. Wave a hand and the kitchen flies past you, one dish at a time.
“You walk in for lunch and leave having joined a family. The food is brilliant and the brothers will not let you be quiet about it.”
“Comfort food with the volume turned all the way up, plated like a punchline that actually lands.”
“Three brothers, one kitchen, zero chill, and some of the most joyful cooking in the city.”