As far as family traditions go, we don’t have many. Except for weekends. There is a tucked-away, secluded little Lebanese Restaurant in Oman called “Shams” (sun). The cafe is always full of Lebanese families, hyper active spoiled children, elder men playing table (shish besh), and a younger crowd smoking sheesha. The place is not classy, do not expect a silk napkin to be placed on your lap. In fact, don’t expect your order to be on time, or for the waiter to remember not to add sugar to your fresh pineapple juice. Go there merely to eat, to experience the cuisine and turn off ignore every urge to scream when a fly lands on your spoon.My dad has a soft spot for this place; it’s his man-cave if you will. Hence we end up there once or twice a week. We usually end up there on Fridays when they serve a wide variety of local finger-licking seafood. If you are ever in Oman, have the fish- all the fish. Try all it has to offer. You will never taste anything like it, anywhere else. The place is also a favorite of Alex’s because I refuse to fry ocean fish at home. It stinks. And the stink clings on with a vicious strength to every curtain and piece of furniture in the house. It’s just so much easier to go out and have fried fish. As for Lebanese food, that is available in Shams every other day of the week. From pastries to grilled chicken- it is the best Lebanese food in town. The picture is a little blurry, I didn’t have my good camera with me and I was too hungry to zoom in properly:

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