15 April 2011
One thing I miss about being married to a Lebanese man is the food. More specifically, the Labneh. In earlier years, a starving artist in NYC, I used to bring lunch to work. In spite of a tight pocketbook, I’ve always had a vow to wow, homemade lunches included in the lifestyle. There was no bologna and cheese sandwich in my little mini-Igloo, no sir. It was all about labneh sandwiches rolled with zataar, fresh mint and basil leaves, cucumber and tomato into a lavash, doused with olive oil and held together with aluminum foil until lunchtime.