There is something comforting about the scent of man’oushe zaatar drifting through a neighbourhood at first light. Before traffic stirs and shop shutters rattle open, the ovens are warm, and rounds of dough are being stretched, pressed and scattered with herbs.
Across the Levant, this simple flatbread has long marked the beginning of the day, a modest dish whose history is woven into family routines, village life and the changing
