The Jewish Quarter of Beirut, where Sheila Mann spent her childhood, was home to a vibrant yet modest community. Although considered part of the “poorer” middle class, families in the neighborhood always enjoyed hearty, home-cooked meals. Each morning, Sheila’s father would visit the main street’s butcher shop and vegetable stalls, ensuring that the freshest ingredients were brought home for the day’s cooking.
The afternoons were just as lively, with street vendors walking through the neighborhood, calling out their goods. One vendor sold hot boiled beets, carefully wrapped in wax paper. Since beets took too long to cook in a regular pot—pressure cookers were rare at the time—many households bought them freshly boiled. Sheila and her mother would return home holding the steaming package, peeling the beets immediately and eating them while they were still warm.
Another street vendor carried a true delicacy—roasted sheep’s heads. These were a luxury, and when Sheila’s mother bought one, it felt like a celebration. The family savored every part—the brain, the tongue, the cheeks—and even sucked the bones dry. It was a dish that, though expensive, brought immense joy whenever it made its way to their home.
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