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You"ll find this family-run, ten-table spot amid the cluster of Middle Eastern shops at the west end of Atlantic Avenue, but the diners represent all facets of the Brooklyn prism--a scruffy white boy and his Asian date, a gaggle of teen prepsters from Brooklyn Heights, groups of Arabic speakers in spirited after-dessert conversation. Dive, don"t dip, into the pita-perfect mouhammara,{/I} a flavorful Syrian spread of walnut and sweet red peppers, followed by a perfectly seasoned plate of lamb-stuffed cabbage. Skip the baklava (a bit of a tough chew) and the gritty, unsweetened apricot pudding (clearly an acquired taste).

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