Lebanon Food Collection

Lebanese hospitality is measured in dishes, not in words. A table set for four arrives with twelve small plates, and someone will still apologise that there wasn't enough time to cook properly. Mezze is the country's grammar: hummus smoothed with tahini and good olive oil, moutabal smoked over open flame, muhammara sharp with red pepper and walnut, warak enab rolled by hand while the family talks over each other in the kitchen.

What makes the Lebanese kitchen so quietly generous is its balance. Lemon, garlic and olive oil are the backbone; herbs arrive by the handful rather than the pinch; and almost every rich dish is answered by something bright. Tabbouleh is less a salad than a green thing that keeps the rest of the table honest.

The Lebanese day begins at the oven. Manakish zaatar comes folded in paper, still too hot to hold, and kaak Beirut is carried by its handle from a street vendor on the way to work. Foul and labneh land on breakfast tables, drizzled with oil and eaten with whatever bread is closest.

By evening the country moves outdoors. Shawarma turns on the spit, shish taouk and kafta smoke over charcoal, sfiha comes bite-sized from Baalbek, and batata harra arrives hot and spiced from the skillet. Beirut nights end with knafeh, cheese and syrup pulled apart while it is still molten, or maamoul during the festive weeks.

Lebanon is small enough to cross in a morning, and its food changes as the land climbs. On the coast, sayadieh brings spiced fish and rice, samke harra carries chilli and coriander, and grilled prawns are eaten within sight of the water. Inland and up in the mountains the cooking turns earthier: mujadara of lentils and rice, mloukhieh stewed green and slow, shish barak folded into warm yogurt.

Drinks follow the same rhythm. Ahweh, thick and cardamom-scented, punctuates the working day. Jallab and ayran cool the summer. Arak, cloudy with water and ice, belongs to long tables and later hours, and karkadeh appears deep red when the heat finally breaks.

Our Lebanon collection draws those dishes — mezze, manakish zaatar, tabbouleh, fattoush, kibbeh nayeh, falafel, shawarma, knafeh, arak and ahweh — into one illustrated composition made to hang in a kitchen where people cook for more guests than were invited.

The Lebanon food poster works in black or white, framed for a hallway or leaning against a café wall. It is the kind of piece Lebanese families abroad recognise instantly, and the kind of gift that says a specific place rather than a general idea of one.