Two Beirut brothers, one recipe, and a bitter split.
Some afternoons, when his uncle Zouhair was unable to open shop, Mustapha Sahyoun’s father, Fouad, drove him to work in a bulky Peugeot 304 that bounced across roads pockmarked with bullet holes and rocket craters. But in the no man’s land between East and West Beirut, debris from demolished buildings made the roads impassible, and Sahyoun would have to go on foot. He would leave the Peugeot’s comfort and pick his way through an abandoned and dusty path running across the Green Line, a long stretch of demolished properties that served as the only buffer zone between Lebanon’s Christian and Muslim factions during the war that lasted from 1975 to 1990.
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