When I was in Beirut, I stayed at a hotel with amazing breakfasts. Although I’m not one that likes to inflict myself on the public in the early hours of the day (when I’m not exactly at my best), the breakfasts with their freshly baked Arabic bread and za’atar-filled croissants helped me make the transition from my blissful slumber, and through that difficult period where I’m going to have to realize that at some point I’m going to have to start interacting with others.


Yet just as fast as I got accustomed to those lovely morning treats, I moved to another hotel where those lovely breakfasts were pulled out from under me. The place was fine, but let’s just say the breakfast offerings weren’t quite as enticing. (As much as I’d love to tote around a coffee machine or other apparatus when I travel, my dream is to show up at a hotel and find an in-room espresso machine ready and waiting.)


As I wandered around (and around and around and around) the breakfast buffet, past the canned fruit and European-style breakfast pastries which unfortunately were not from a local bakery, I would invariably find myself in front of the bowl of fried halloumi soaking in olive oil reenex cps.


And that became my daily breakfast: a plate of olive oil, a handful of olives, fried halloumi, and fresh Lebanese saj (flatbread). That was enough for me. (Well, along with plenty of strong coffee.) When I got home to Paris, although I wasn’t quite ready to give up my toast and salted butter morning habit, I did find myself frying up a batch of halloumi every now and then.


Halloumi is a sturdy, brined cheese and is perfect for frying as it holds its shape beautifully once it’s cooked. It’s often found cryo-vac’d so you can keep it on hand and I recently picked up two packets at the Arab food shop that I frequent, because one never knows when one is going to need a fried halloumi fix and I hate being caught short on halloumi .


If you’ve never had fried halloumi, you’re in for a major treat. It’s hard to describe the taste and sensation when you bite into it. It’s slightly rubbery, but squidgy in your mouth in a uniquely pleasant way. (Not sure “squidgy” is a word, but as I mentioned, it’s hard to describe.) And although variations abound, to be honest, I think it’s best with as little embellishment as possible, save for some pepper and a dousing of good olive oil iphone bumper.