In January 2011, my husband and I flew to Lebanon to begin his sabbatical in the Middle East–specifically the Levant, or what used to be known as Greater Syria. The day we arrived the coalition government collapsed. Tension and uncertainty marked the first days, with heated debate on how each faction should react. Young men blocked roadways with burning piles of tires and rubble, bringing forth tanks and armed personnel, but ultimately an uneasy quiet returned, and throughout it all the Lebanese continued the everyday business of life.

After a month, we drove to Syria with a fifteen-day tourist visa, the longest we could obtain. We visited the mosques and searched the hidden corners of the souks in Aleppo and Damascus, tromped through the ruins of crusader castles and ancient civilizations, and drove the green ribbon that flows along each side of the Euphrates in this hauntingly lovely desert country. In Aleppo we breakfasted on ful medames, dried fava beans stewed whole and served with tahini, tomato, onion, cumin, and hard-boiled eggs. Later, a street snack of fried hot peppers tucked into a giant pita alongside a thin bulgur pancake, the fiery bites mitigated by a thin, watery yogurt drink, sustained us. In Damascus we dined at a stunning, sophisticated restaurant where a long line of oversized black SUVs screeched to the front door, off-loading a contingent of men in black suits who commandeered much of the large room.

We found the country interesting and exciting in its history and in its differences, but we wouldn’t have foreseen that, so soon after we left, the imposed truce would begin to crumble. The civil war briefly feared in Lebanon instead has engulfed Syria, driving hundreds of thousands into exile.

Lamis Barawi and her husband, Jawad Seif–the son of longtime Syrian opposition leader Riad Seif–fled in June 2012. This past February, they began their lives’ next chapter, opening Damas restaurant in Woodland Plaza.

While Barawi runs the kitchen, Seif is more often seen in the dining room. The storefront, lightly decorated with bamboo accents and tourist photographs of Syria, features the everyday food of the Levant–much of it already well-known in southeast Michigan–as well as some dishes less frequently encountered here. Damas offers the traditional ful, which I didn’t try, intrigued instead by their eponymous version: soupy favas heavily doused with olive oil and creamy white garlic sauce. It’s utterly delicious. Also irresistible is zahra, described on the menu as stuffed cauliflower but really florets fried a deep brown, sauced with tahini, and overlaid with a generous scattering of pomegranate seeds and parsley.

Hummus, though ubiquitous, seems a sacred dish throughout the Middle East, with serious debate over who has the freshest, the creamiest, the best quality. Damas’s hummus is very good–smooth, with the texture of a heavy mayonnaise, the flavor nicely balanced between chickpeas, tahini, lemon, garlic, and olive oil. A friend loves their ginger variation, but I fancy the two options with warm toppings–either sujuk (spicy lamb sausage, tomato, and mushroom) or makale (fried potatoes, eggplant, tomato, and cilantro). The contrast of the hot, fried, somewhat crispy garnishes with the rich, creamy spread is addictive, and an order slathered on pieces of pita can easily become a meal.

Other tasty spreads feature roasted eggplant. In one, it’s finely chopped and mixed with tomato to make a lemony, fresh-tasting baba ghanoush. In the other, the vegetable is grilled and pureed with tahini and garlic into mutabbal, a rich, smoky blend. Also deliciously opulent is the fatteh, broken dried pieces of pita drowning in a warm bath of chickpeas, yogurt, tahini, and lemon.

As with the hummus, Barawi again demonstrates a nicely balanced hand with the tabbouleh, neither lemon nor olive oil overwhelming the delicate mix of parsley and bulgur. I find the fattoush less interesting–too much iceberg lettuce and green pepper and not enough of the pita and other vegetables. The eggplant fattoush is dotted with creamy bits of delicious fried eggplant, but with too little to lift the salad from the ordinary.

Damas’s falafel and shish tawook–marinated, grilled chicken skewers–are also ordinary, but I enjoyed two of their chicken sandwiches–shawarma with feta and the “Damas chicken” filled with marinated meat, almonds, hummus, and pickles. The fried lamb kibbe, spiced ground meat coated with bulgur, is sturdy, crunchy, and filling.

House specialties include stuffed zucchini filled with cinnamon-scented rice and lamb and served with a soupy tomato sauce. Though we ignored the sauce after the first taste, the main event is comforting home-style fare. The stewed okra comes in another undistinguished tomato soup, and we left it, after a couple of spoonfuls, unfinished on the table. A great lover of legumes, I look forward to trying Damas’s stewed white beans.

The menu lists many other options typically seen on area Middle Eastern menus–spinach pies, kafta, shish kabob, mujaddara. Someday I may try them. But for now, I’d rather stick to those dishes less often seen–the creamy foul and zahra, the beautifully composed and dressed hummus, the fatteh–that evoke the singularity and uniqueness of Syria and the places and people we visited, now lost–temporarily or forever–to war.

Damas

2276 S. Main St. (Woodland Plaza)

761-8353

damasannarbor.com

Appetizers $3.99-$8.99; soups, sandwiches and salads $3.29-$8.99; entrees $8.99-$16.79.

Mon.-Fri. 11 a.m.-9:30 p.m., Sat.-Sun. 11 a.m.-10 p.m.