A spice market in Beirut, a fire on your block.

Three generations ago, our grandfather ground his own seven-spice blend behind a fruit stall in Bourj Hammoud. He cooked shawarma the slow way — marinade overnight, vertical spit, hardwood fire — and handed the recipe down without ever writing it down.

BEWAZ is that recipe. Brought to a new city, kept on the same fire. We mix our baharat by hand, roll our saj in front of you, and pickle our cucumbers in-house.

Nothing here is frozen. Nothing is microwaved. Just meat, fire, time, and a little obsession.