Lebanese food festival in Lewisville welcomed people of all nationalities

by Lena Dirbashi

LEWISVILLE — The stormy weather couldn’t stop the 14th annual Lebanese Food Festival in Lewisville last weekend. As the cold rain poured, attendees like Sarah Ahmadieh, 24, an elementary school teacher from Plano, drove a long distance for this day.

She had waited for months. Ahmadieh is Lebanese and recently moved to North Texas from Oklahoma last year. She didn't know a lot of Lebanese people in the community and had heard that she would meet many, since about 10,000 people come to the festival every year, according to Father Assaad El Basha, head priest of Our Lady of Lebanon Maronite Catholic Church, which hosts the festival.

Ahmadieh walked into the church entrance, not recognizing anyone, but familiar with the Lebanese music. Admission is free, and she had already pre-purchased food tickets with her credit card, an unusual option for food festivals.

The crowds moved in all directions, and as Ahmadieh peered around, she looked straight into the eyes of a familiar face. “Oh my God! Ron!” she screamed. Ron was an old friend from college back in Oklahoma. They reminisced for a while, and then Ahmadieh was back to searching for the source of music.

“Sarah!” someone shouted. It was Omar. She met him in Florida at a Lebanese conference last year.

Ahmadieh ran into a few others before spotting the enormous series of white tents where warm light was flowing, illuminating the courtyard of the Maronite Catholic Church -- the only one in Dallas-Ft. Worth. Father Assaad came out of the kitchen to greet Ahmadieh. He has served the church for 14 years and is known for welcoming every person he sees.

“Our purpose, as a Lebanese immigrant from Lebanon, is to bring our culture to our young adults and to the West who welcome us as immigrants from Lebanon,” El Basha said. “We really appreciate them by giving us freedom to practice our faith, and they respect our culture and we really appreciate it.”

Inside the tent was what made Ahmadieh's 45-minute dangerous drive and the unpleasant weather worth it. She could see the crowd doing the dabkeh, a traditional Lebanese dance where a human chain is formed as they stomp their feet, forming a long unclosed circle.

The dabkeh is danced to Lebanese music where out-of-state band Farah Farah performed and sang popular Lebanese songs. Almost all in jeans, children and adults were hand-in-hand when Ahmadieh joined in.

The music and the dabkeh don’t stop for anyone, she advised. Those who get tired or hungry simply step out of the dabkeh chain to get free.

Nearby, there was a food bazaar with homemade Lebanese cooking. Everything was authentic and fresh, made by the women of the church. “Nothing is catered,” El Basha said. “It is all cooked in our kitchen at the church.”

Chicken, kabobs, keftah (ground beef), or falafel sandwiches were offered in the first booth. Ahmadieh got falafel. The second booth offered Lebanese desserts: baklawa (phyllo dough pastry made of crushed nuts and sugar), mamoul (pastry made with dates), and warbat (sweet cheese pastry made of phyllo) to name a few – but Ahmadieh skips. “Later,” she told the volunteers behind the booth.

Many of the volunteers, like the attendees, were not of Lebanese origin, like Patti Nicholas, 12, and Ed Dee, 59, from Lewisville who were serving sandwiches few booths down. They are church members and have volunteered in the festival for years.

“My church is half Lebanese and American,” El Basha said with pride. “We are a multicultural church and even have people from Africa, Asia, Americans, French, Jordan, and Egypt.”

Ahmadieh picked up a soda (it’s not Lebanese) and then asked for tabouleh, a Lebanese salad consisting of finely chopped parsley and wheat barely, tomatoes and onion. Ahmadieh carried her falafel, soda, and tabouleh box and struggled to run under the off-and-on rain back into the tent with a few friends.

Nail Salem, one of Ahmadieh's friends, is not Lebanese but feels at home. “That is what makes the Lebanese festival so special,” Salem said. “They welcome everyone.”