He carried that foundation to culinary school in Beirut, then he sharpened his skills through internships and travels across Europe, the Middle East, and the United States. It was the U.S. that won him over. He chose California, with its mix of cultures, as the place to share his Lebanese cuisine, and he spent four years there. Then Louisiana came calling, and in a state built on blended traditions, he found a new sense of belonging.
Today, Choumali is the Executive Chef at Shaya, the James Beard Award-winning restaurant on Magazine Street in Uptown New Orleans. Shaya’s menu draws from North Africa, the Middle East, Eastern Europe, Turkey, and Greece, with a wood-fired oven at the center of the kitchen and pita baked to order. Under Choumali, the menu includes falafel in silky green tahini, Gulf shrimp kebabs with Moroccan couscous, hummus topped with fried chicken thigh or lamb ragu, and even a date cinnamon babka king cake. Dishes are meant to be shared, and he blends his Lebanese heritage with Louisiana ingredients.
Choumali also leads the kitchen at Tavi, Shaya’s sister restaurant in downtown Covington, Louisiana, from BRG Hospitality. The name comes from the Hebrew word for “good” or “beloved,” and the menu pairs Chaoumali’s favorites with new dishes inspired by his Lebanese roots.
Chef Fariz Choumali has gone from Beirut to California to New Orleans. He has built a career on bringing the flavors of his home and sharing that same appreciation for a table that brings people together, just like it’s done in New Orleans. It’s great to have him in New Orleans sharing his traditions and continuing to push the Monday one in new ways!
Did you grow up around beans? When you think of home in Lebanon, does a bean pot come to mind?
Yes, absolutely. Beans are an important part of everyday Lebanese cooking. Growing up in Lebanon, I was surrounded by food that was simple, seasonal, and connected to the family table. Beans, lentils, chickpeas, vegetables, olive oil, and fresh herbs were ingredients we used regularly.
When I think about home, I think about the kind of cooking that takes time. A pot on the stove, onions and garlic cooking slowly, the smell of tomato and olive oil filling the kitchen. These are familiar smells that stay with you long after you leave home.
In Lebanon, food is deeply connected to family. It is not always about preparing something expensive or complicated. It is about taking everyday ingredients and turning them into something meaningful. A pot of beans can feed a family, welcome a guest, or become the center of a gathering.
Lebanon has its own beans and rice: fasoulya. When you first had New Orleans red beans and rice, did it feel familiar to you? How are the two dishes the same, and where do they differ?
When I first experienced New Orleans red beans and rice, I immediately recognized something familiar. Even though the flavors were different, the idea behind the dish reminded me of Lebanese cooking.
In Lebanon, one version of fasoulya is made with white beans, tomato, garlic, onion, and lamb or beef. The beans cook slowly in a rich tomato sauce until everything comes together. We traditionally serve it with vermicelli rice.
The similarities are interesting. Both dishes use inexpensive, accessible ingredients. Both rely on slow cooking to develop flavor, and both are traditionally served with rice. They are filling, comforting meals that can feed a family without needing anything extravagant.
But the personalities are different.
Lebanese fasoulya has a Mediterranean character. We use olive oil, garlic, tomato, and warm spices. The flavor is often cleaner and brighter, with the natural sweetness of the tomato and the richness of the beans and the slow-cooked lamb. New Orleans red beans have a completely different identity. The onion, celery, and bell pepper — the Holy Trinity — create the foundation, while smoked meats, seasonings, and the long cooking process give the dish its distinctive Louisiana character.
What I love is that both dishes tell a similar story through different ingredients. They remind me that food traditions can be different on the surface but very close in spirit.
Tell me about the Monday special at Shaya — the Lebanese red beans with lamb. How did it come about, and what’s in the pot? What makes it Lebanese?
The idea came from my appreciation for New Orleans food traditions and my desire to share a little more of my own background through the food we serve at Shaya.
I have always enjoyed learning about the history behind dishes. When I learned more about the Monday red beans tradition, I saw a connection to the way we cook in Lebanon. It reminded me of the meals I grew up around — dishes that are prepared slowly, served generously, and meant to be shared.
I wanted to create something that respected the New Orleans tradition but also reflected where I come from.
Our Lebanese red beans with lamb bring together the heartiness of the beans and the richness of lamb with the flavors of Lebanese home cooking. The tomato, garlic, onion, olive oil, and warm spices build a comforting base. The lamb adds depth, and as everything cooks together, the flavors become rich and integrated.
What makes it Lebanese is not simply adding a particular spice or ingredient. It is the philosophy behind the cooking. We focus on aromatics, balance, patience, and letting the ingredients develop their flavor naturally.
I also wanted the dish to feel authentic to my own background rather than simply adding Lebanese ingredients to a traditional New Orleans recipe. It is my interpretation of two traditions meeting in one pot.
I understand the special sits on your Tabkha menu — the home-style dish of the day. Is that the spirit of your red beans and rice: a home cook’s pot, brought into a restaurant kitchen?
Exactly. Tabkha is an Arabic word referring to a cooked dish or home-style preparation. For me, it represents the food we grew up eating at home — the dishes our mothers and grandmothers prepared, often without measuring everything.
There is something special about that kind of cooking. You learn by watching, tasting, smelling, and understanding how ingredients behave. You don’t always need a written recipe because the knowledge comes from experience and generations of cooking.
At Shaya, our kitchen is known for its approach to Levantine cuisine, but Tabkha gives us an opportunity to bring another side of that culture to the table. It allows us to share dishes that are more personal, familiar, and connected to everyday Lebanese life.
I believe restaurant cooking can sometimes become very focused on presentation and technique. Those things are important, but I never want to lose the emotional connection behind a dish.
The red beans with lamb are a good example. It is not meant to be a complicated dish. It is meant to be generous, satisfying, and comforting. It is the kind of food you want to eat with a piece of bread, a bowl of rice, and people sitting around the table.
Red beans and rice come with a whole Monday tradition here: wash day, a pot on the stove while the week’s work got done, a meal that gathers people. As someone newer to the city, what do you make of a place that builds one day of every week around a pot of beans?
I think it is beautiful, and it says a lot about the identity of New Orleans.
What I find most interesting is that this is not just a dish people enjoy. It is a tradition that has been passed down through generations. There is a story behind why people cook it on Monday, and that story is connected to the everyday lives of families.
In Lebanon, we also have a strong relationship between food and daily routines. Certain dishes are associated with family gatherings, Sundays, holidays, or particular seasons. Food becomes part of how we organize our lives and how we remember our families.
Coming to New Orleans and experiencing this tradition helped me understand how much food is part of the city’s culture. People here are very proud of their culinary history, and rightly so.I appreciate that something as humble as a pot of beans can carry so much history. It is not about luxury or fine dining. It is about identity, memory, and belonging.
I think that is what makes New Orleans special. You can walk into a restaurant on a Monday and find people coming together over a dish that has been part of this city for generations.
For me, that connection is very close to what I know from Lebanon. We may have different ingredients and different traditions, but we share the same appreciation for a table that brings people together.
How do Lebanese cooks treat beans — soaking, aromatics, olive oil, how the pot is finished — and how does that compare with the Creole way, with its trinity and smoked meats? What did you keep from home, and what have you borrowed from New Orleans?
In Lebanese cooking, we usually start by soaking dried beans, allowing them to hydrate before cooking. This helps them cook more evenly and become tender. We build the flavor with simple ingredients: olive oil, onions, garlic, tomato, and meat.
The important thing is to give the beans enough time. We don’t want them to lose their identity or become completely broken down. We want them tender, with a sauce that has developed naturally from the ingredients.
Olive oil plays an important role in Lebanese cooking. It brings richness but also allows the flavors of the garlic, tomato, and herbs to come through. We often finish dishes with fresh herbs or a little olive oil to bring freshness and balance.
The Creole approach is different but equally beautiful. The Holy Trinity of onion, celery, and bell pepper creates a strong foundation. Smoked meats bring another layer of flavor, and the seasoning traditions of Louisiana give red beans their unmistakable character.
What I kept from Lebanon is the simplicity of the ingredients: the olive oil, the garlic, the tomato, and the importance of slow cooking the beans and the meat all together.
What I appreciate about New Orleans is the depth that comes from the Trinity, the smoked flavors, and the way the beans themselves become creamy as they cook.
As a chef, I believe you should always be learning. Cooking in New Orleans has taught me to appreciate a different culinary language. I don’t believe one technique is better than another. They come from different histories and environments.
The beautiful thing is finding a connection between them while respecting what makes each one unique.
If you were cooking red beans for your own family at home, your way, what would that pot look like?
If I were making red beans for my family at home, I would make a big pot. I would start with dried beans, soak them overnight, and build the flavor slowly.
I would begin with good olive oil, onions, and garlic, allowing them to cook gently. Then I would add tomato, the beans, lamb, and the spices that remind me of home. I would let everything simmer slowly until the beans were tender and the lamb was soft enough to fall apart.
I would serve it with rice, fresh herbs, and perhaps a little extra olive oil. I would also want some warm bread on the table because, in Lebanon, bread is always welcome when there is a good sauce to enjoy.
But honestly, the most important part would not be the recipe. It would be the people around the table.
I would make enough for everyone, and I would hope there would be leftovers for the next day. In my family, food is never just about feeding yourself. It is about making sure everyone has enough and that nobody leaves the table hungry.
That is how I red bean: with patience, generosity, and a little bit of home in every pot.
What has New Orleans taught you so far about food and gathering? What feels like home, and what still surprises you?
New Orleans has taught me that food is much more than what is on the plate. It is part of people’s identity, history, and everyday lives. This city has a very special relationship with food. People are proud of their traditions, their ingredients, their neighborhood restaurants, and the dishes they grew up eating.
Coming from Lebanon, I immediately connected with that spirit. In both cultures, hospitality is extremely important. When you welcome someone into your home, you don’t just offer them a meal; you make sure they feel comfortable, that the table is full, and that there is always something more to share.
What feels like home to me is that generosity. I see it in the way people gather, celebrate, and spend time around food.
What still surprises me is how deeply New Orleans protects its culinary identity. There are so many traditions that people continue to honor, and every neighborhood has its own personality. As a chef, I find that inspiring. It reminds me that cooking is not only about creativity; it is also about respecting the history and culture behind the food.
I think New Orleans has given me another perspective on hospitality, and it continues to influence the way I cook and lead my kitchens.
Your Sunday Sufra series at Shaya is built on Sundays at your grandmother’s house — a shared table, family style. How does that table connect with what you’re doing in New Orleans?
The Sunday Sufra is probably one of the most personal projects we do at Shaya.
Growing up in Lebanon, Sundays were special. They were about family coming together, spending time with one another, and sharing a table. My grandmother’s house was a place where food was always being prepared, and there was always room for another person.
The word Sufra refers to the dining table or the spread of food laid out for sharing. But for me, it represents something much bigger. It represents generosity, connection, memory, and belonging.
When I created the Sunday Sufra at Shaya, I wanted to bring that feeling into the restaurant. Rather than simply serving a series of courses, I wanted guests to experience the spirit of a Lebanese family gathering. Dishes arrive at the table, everyone shares, and the meal becomes an experience rather than just dinner.
What makes it especially meaningful in New Orleans is that I see the same spirit here. People understand the importance of gathering around a table. They appreciate long meals, good conversation, and food that brings people together.
The Sunday Sufra allows me to share a part of my childhood and Lebanese heritage with the people of New Orleans. In a way, it is my grandmother’s table finding a new home at Shaya.
What is your favorite go-to comfort food meal?
My comfort food will always be something that reminds me of home in Lebanon. It’s not necessarily one particular dish. There are so many Lebanese home-cooked meals that I grew up enjoying, from fasoulya to lentils, stews, and different dishes prepared with vegetables, meat, olive oil, and fresh herbs.
But what I love most is a pot that has been slowly cooking for hours. The smell of onions and garlic, the flavors developing together, and the anticipation of sitting down to enjoy something that has been prepared with patience and care. Give me a slow-cooked meal, some warm bread, good olive oil, and a table surrounded by family. That’s comfort food to me.
As a chef, I spend so much time thinking about menus, ingredients, techniques, and presentation. But when I sit down to eat for myself, I often want something simple. I want the kind of food that takes me back to my childhood, reminds me of my family, and makes me feel at home.
Where’s your favorite spot in New Orleans?
I think one of the things I love most about New Orleans is that there isn’t just one place that represents the city for me.
I enjoy the French Quarter, the architecture, the neighborhood restaurants, and the feeling of walking through the city and discovering something new. I also love being around the food culture, whether that means visiting a local restaurant, sitting at a neighborhood bar, or simply enjoying the atmosphere.
To stay up to date with Chef Fariz Choumali, you can follow him online:
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Eric Olsson is the food blogger of RedBeansAndEric.com. He publishes new recipes and interviews weekly. He has developed recipes and written articles for the famous Camellia brand in New Orleans, Louisiana. He has been mentioned in Louisiana Cookin‘ magazine and has had recipes featured in Taste of Home magazine – with his Creole Turkey recipe being runner up in their annual Thanksgiving recipe contest. He lives outside of Detroit, Michigan, with his wife and four children.
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