A traditional Ramadan treatment gets a new version (but good luck to get it)

As the minutes approached the sunset, the crowd grew more patience, pressed the issue of the glass show, screaming and getting bills towards young people who fill the matter after the sweet bread in Ramadan.

“If you please –“

“What is this stuffed?“

“Sir, take my money!“

“Just be patient! “

The settlement of high -pressure inquiries, reviews and appeals to patience plays every evening of Ramadan while the Syrians wander around Maroc, a sweet bread that is eaten here during the month of Islamic fasting. As the time for breakfast, breaking fasting, approaching, the ends of hunger gather in one day with tremors between the sponsors who are desperate to obtain their Maroc loaves and rush to the house before calling for the sounds of prayer from Maritz mosques.

There is a hint of stress in the air, but more clearly is the smell of baking, sugar and chocolate.

Maroc, the simple local bread sprayed with sesame seeds, was part of the Syrian Ramadan traditions for generations. Every year, while the bakeries – Pizza Parlor are perpetuated – are completely produced during the month of Ramadan, new differences appear to saturate advanced tastes.

Syrians are proud of rich cooking traditions, but they are not precious to allow them to develop. There are now olives in the Fattoush salad. Onions in shawarma. Parsley in chickpeas.

Then there is Marook, which comes in many different repetitions that spread bakeries long lists for all their shows, and some cannot be recognized from the original. Perhaps it cannot be avoided in the direction of viral food, a Dubai chocolate Maroc appeared in some stores this year.

Prices differ from bakery to bakery. The individual loave often costs about 4000 Syrian pounds, less than 50 cents, while the major – depending on its imagination – can reach 45,000 pounds.

“The elderly people definitely love classic,” said Tareq Al-Pyad, the owner of One Baker, Al Jouzeh, standing between the shelves stacked with Marook trays. “I even surprised the new self. For me, I love just joy. But I don’t only sell what I like, I must sell what customers want.”

On the other side of the glass counter, its customers stood on the sidewalk who calls their orders above the street behind them. Sometimes, they had to avoid a bike or motorcycle race on the sidewalk to avoid traffic from the bumper to the health on the road where everyone rushed to make it in time to break the fast.

“Please, is there a champagne pistachio?” Aya Al -Homsi, 27, asked, referring to the Maroc who comes in the form of a honeyed disk and is sprayed with pistachio cream.

The bakery was already outside that flavor. I got one full of Oreo instead.

“On the first night that we are always eaten filled with dates and coconuts,” said Mrs. Al -Homsi, a citizen of Damascus,. “Then we start trying other flavors.”

Apparently mired in options, a couple and their young daughter stood discussing every flavor before walking without any Maroc.

In the walnut, bread begins at 6 am, and eats the suhoor bakers, Predawn meal before fasting, at home, then it reaches a tired day of kneading, filling, glass and spraying.

They work like the mixing line well. Little, except for the accidental damage from one worker, Mahmoud Midani, 39, is said to capture the pace.

“Let’s go – move this stairs,” Muhammad ordered grains every time another tray was filled.

Mr. Taboosh, 16, was almost covered with flour.

The bakery works on a mixture of solar energy, a generator that works in diesel and two hours a day of the electricity provided by the government. The power network in Syria is characterized by long sympathy, as a result of the 13 -year civil war.

Mohamed Helewan, 20, from the old city of Damascus, works in the bakery for more than a year.

“This is part of our Syrian heritage and many generations return,” he said. “This diversity, we are changing with the times. It is not a bad thing – on the contrary, this is the update.”

One after the other take a small Maroc loaf from a tray and filled it with melted white chocolate using an automatic nozzle before avoiding more on top and adding a spray of collapsed chocolate cookies. It is his favorite flavor.

He said: “Our ancestors who used to eat.”

Mr. Al -Abd said that the bakery has three sites, and between them they make about 11,000 large and small Maroc loaves every day. Thousands of loaves disappear quickly in the last hour of the day, and customers who are looking for specific flavors may go away from the fence.

“My dear, only one with dates,” said Salah Muhammad, 41, who is hanging his head behind the meter while trying to maneuver after the crowd.

“There is no longer a date, his uncle,” said 17 years old, and then he repeated this for his co-workers. He said: “Guys, there is no longer a history.”

“Oh no, what will I do?” Mr. Muhammad asked himself desperately.

In his hand, he was carrying a bag of another bakery with three small Maroc, which is an ordinary one for him and the coconut of his young children. His wife had asked for a date from Maroc, and less than half an hour before breakfast, he moved from a bakery to a bakery in search of one.

By that time, the items in bakeries throughout the city were overcome.

“We don’t know exactly what remains remaining,” said Mr. Khawla, wearing an orange shirt with a Syrian map, history and time indicating the fall of the Assad regime in December. By this point, the heavy type shirt was stained with many flavors displayed: chocolate, pistachio, and peskov.

Amid the wave of business, young people behind the meter have always had a time to calculate all the Syrian bills they delivered by customers. The low value of the currency throughout the war means that even small daily purchases can require a thick set of bills.

With the minutes remain only before breakfast, the seconds can be concerned, and some customers did not bother to wait for their change.

Mr. Khawla handed over more than five coconut brands, five of the flavor of a cliff and Stepmana to an ordinary customer, an older man, and I am looking for changing it. When he returned back, and he grabbed a pile of 1000 Syrian notes, he wiped the thin crowd to him in vain.

“Where is the pilgrim?” Mr. Khawla asked, using an honor for the elderly.

Then he laughed.

He said: “Hagi Hagi has rushed to the house.”