Breakfast Culture.

As noted elsewhere in this blog, similarities between the two countries, Lebanon and Britain, abound. Amy Winehouse is well enough known to be impersonated, sellers of Liverpool and Manchester United football shirts do a roaring trade and I get silly calls on my mobile from people trying to flog me stuff I don’t want.

But breakfast is where the differences show. Perhaps people need the truly familiar first thing in the morning.

I have two personal favourites when visiting England. Orange juice, prunes, a buttered kipper, then finish up with brown toast and marmalade, all washed down with English Breakfast Tea: that makes up one of them. The other starts and finishes in much the same way but has rashers of back bacon, egg and sausage with a few sautéed mushrooms in the middle and that cholesterol nightmare, fried bread: it’s accompanied by strong, percolated coffee. There is no particular order in those two, it depends on mood and inclination; and either fuels me up for the whole day.

Both are improved, in my opinion, by having a copy of the Telegraph to hand. I know it isn’t everyone’s cup of tea (pretty obvious how that metaphor came about now, isn’t it), but it’s been my morning read of choice since a teenager and especially since the Times moved its classified ads off the front page. Once, in desperate need of a Sudoku puzzle, all I could get was a Guardian, so I bought a copy of Playboy to hide it in. I do realize, though, that morning newspapers are very much a matter of personal taste, so, as long you get the food right, be my guest.

So what does a full Lebanese breakfast look like?

There’s a plate of greengrocery, which includes huge tomatoes that look more like painted melons, radishes and sprigs of mint. There’s a bowl of dried thyme eaten either with lebneh (like strained Greek yoghurt) or spread with olive oil on unleven bread. Choose from plates of beans stewed with garlic, again in olive oil, and plates of chick peas, both whole and made into a paste with Tahini, the mix better known as hummus. There’s more, some Olives, both black and green, with olive oil, oh, and peeled boiled eggs. A bowl of whatever fruit is in season and fruit juices are on the table, and of course, jam and butter and white cheese to go with more or that pita type bread. It’s all washed down with tea, without milk added, or stand-your-spoon-up-in-it viscous black Arabic coffee.

Whereas English breakfasts, mine anyway, tend to be solitary and silent, the spread listed above is expected to be a group affair with loads of chatter and gossip. Reading material isn’t needed, although Lebanon is rich in Daily Newspapers, in three languages to boot.

There’s a question posed on an earlier page “where can I get a good kipper in Beirut?” The answer, I’m afraid, is still “I don’t know.” Ideas anyone?