BEIRUT: It’s been around longer than the statue of Martyrs Square, predates Lebanon’s Independence and was serving falafel seven years before McDonalds sold its first hamburger.

Sahyoun’s in Beirut opened its doors for business in 1933 and since then, it has become a landmark in its own right. Tell a taxi driver “Sahyoun’s” and he’ll take you directly to the little shop on Damascus Road just outside Downtown Beirut.

“It was the first falafel shop in Lebanon,” says Zoheir Sahyoun, son of Mustafa Sahyoun, the business’ founder and namesake. “I started working here when I was 16 years old,” he says, manning the register.

“I started working at the shop when I was 6 or 7,” says Fouad, Zoheir’s older brother.

According to Fouad, before 1933, their father had a falafel stand just across the street. And before that, he would send boys around town, peddling fresh falafel on wooden trays.

“In the 1920s and 1930s, it was embarrassing to eat falafel,” Fouad says. “People would think, ‘Don’t they have wives to cook for them?’ There wasn’t a culture of sandwiches ... Customers would eat with their backs to the windows.”

By the 1950s, Fouad and Zoheir were working under their father, the idea of eating sandwiches was gradually losing its social stigma and more shops were opening.

Sahyoun’s survived the increasing competition, as well as the Civil War – though the shop had to move temporarily – and continued to build its reputation.

But after decades working together, even through the death of their father in the 1970s, Fouad opened his own falafel shop in 2006.

“Before,” Zoheir says, indicating the past with a wave of his hand, “my brother and I worked together. I don’t know why he stopped.”

Fouad’s shop, also called Sahyoun’s, sits just to the left of the original Sahyoun’s. The shops, now business rivals, have a similar layout: two counters, a few chairs and a register. Each has big bowls of radishes, tomatoes, parsley, mint and tarator, a tahini sauce. The menus hang from the wall. Their logos are the same – crowns – and adorn the sandwich wrappings and the shops’ signs. They even share a wall.

Even though it’s been more than five years since Fouad set up shop, the brothers remain reluctant to volunteer details of their split.

“I opened this one for my own peace of mind,” is all Fouad says.

As for his brother and nephew, who also works next door, “I don’t acknowledge their presence. They’re relatives but not close to me at all.”

“This is the original shop. There’s not really friendly competition,” says Kareem, Zoheir’s son. “But it’s better with two restaurants because me and my father think the same way.”

Zoheir isn’t convinced there’s enough business for two shops to share, but Kareem says they receive some 800 customers on a regular day.

Fouad is less forthcoming about how business is going. “I don’t care about competition. I want my customers to know good products, and if they don’t, I don’t want them,” says Fouad, in a subtle jab at his brother. “If you taste a better falafel than this, tell me so I can close shop and go home. I’m not showing off, just confident.”

Both maintain they use the secret recipe developed by their father.

“What makes our falafel’s unique is the blend. We only use beans and spices. Other places use chickpeas and coriander,” says Kareem.

“There are different recipes, of course,” says Fouad. “Falafel is special here because of the quality, the cleanliness and the way it’s prepared.”

“When you use good quality products, you have quality sandwiches. When you use cheap ingredients, you have cheap sandwiches,” he adds.

Like the brothers, the customers are divided over who serves up the true Sahyoun’s falafel.

At Fouad’s, Amine, a banker, says he stopped to pick up lunch for the family. “I came here because I’m buying falafel for my mom, and she likes it here.”

On the other side of the wall, Wael, a bodyguard, admits that both of the sandwiches he’s bought are for him.

“It’s a traditional food, and if it isn’t done well, it’s inedible,” he says. But the real reason he comes to Zoheir’s is for the “smiles.”

Salim, a salesman also at Zoheir’s, agrees. “I come to Sahyoun’s because my grandfather and father came here, before the war,” he says. “I come to this one because they smile here. The other one claims to be the best falafel. This one, they don’t care. They say, ‘Try both, you’ll see.’”

Despite the rift, family and business are still intertwined for all the Sahyoun’s. In Fouad’s shop, pictures of his father, Mustafa, and his son, who bears the same name, hang on the wall. “I have customers who bring their sons, who tell me their fathers brought them when they were little boys,” says Fouad.

His nephew Kareem says that when he has children, they will continue the tradition. “They have to, even if it’s not their main profession,” he laughs. “It’s a family business.”