Emily's Lebanese Deli was where I first tasted tabbouli. With no Lebanese mother and a Lebanese father who never learned how to cook, Emily's deli was the link to a culture that only existed in my imagination through family stories and photographs.

On special occasions, or coming back from a long trip or if we went to someone's wedding, we would stop by and pick up some olives, bread, kibbee, tabbouli, cabbage rolls, and (if my father was feeling especially generous and happy) baklawa. That evening it would be a feast as my father explained in a very serious manner that indeed Lebanese food was the best food you could ever eat. The next morning, we would wake up early, spread out the flat bread, cover it with peanut butter, and roll it like a telescope, eating the creation slowly and savoring every bite.

As I grew into a teenager, Emily's became a place we went if there was some serious conversation needed. The uncomfortable drive to the restaurant was softened knowing that the familiarity of Emily's food would

Now, as an adult, frequently on Saturdays my father calls to ask me if I want to go out for lunch. I live only a few miles from the restaurant (perhaps an unconscious reason I purchases a house in Northeast). He is an old man and I am a grown woman. Of course, it is assumed where we will meet. We don't even need to discuss it.

I can now make tabbouli and hummous at home, and 5 other middle eastern delis and restaurants are within one mile of my house, but their brand new décor or their fancy seating or low prices will never take the place of Emily's and the trips and memories I have of the restaurant with my father.