There is a conflict stirring in the Middle East that goes to the heart of national pride and identity. Unlike most battles here, it is not about defending territory or fighting tyranny. It is about food. Specifically, hummus, and who has the right to claim it as its own.

Lebanese businessmen accuse Israel of stealing traditional Arab specialties such as hummus, tabbouleh, and falafel and exporting their own versions. It is confusing, they say, to someone in a place like Canada . So they are planning an international court action to ensure Lebanese cuisine is preserved and marketed as exactly that (and nothing but).

"Most of these specialties go back hundreds of years here," said Fadi Abboud of the Lebanese Industrialists Association when I reached him in Beirut , "They are being stolen as if Lebanon does not exist."

That it is Israel on the other side of this marketing fight seems a further slap. Lebanon and Israel are longtime enemies still in a state of war. They are no direct lines of communication between them. As neighbours, the two countries share no relations beyond a deep and historically deadly resentment.

So this legal action is not a joke meant to highlight petty rivalries (Abboud described Israel 's alleged "theft" as "typical" but did not elaborate). The Lebanese group wants to register hummus and other products as Lebanese, citing a so-called "feta cheese" precedent awarded to Greece by a court in 2002.

"We do not want the world to stop eating hummus," said Abboud, "This is not terrorism! We simply want people to know where it truly comes from."

That, in Israel , is an issue of some dispute.

First, pause for a culinary primer: Hummus is made from chickpeas that are mashed and mixed with sesame paste (called tahina) along with olive oil, lemon juice, garlic and salt. It is usually served warm often with a scattering of fresh parsley. Add a few deep-fried falafel balls (the humble chickpeas other incarnation) and a small pile of pita bread and you have the ubiquitous fast food lunch in this part of the world (and none of it particularly slimming).

At restaurants in Jerusalem , Israelis are baffled by the Lebanese lawsuit and curious to know how anyone can rightly say they invented hummus or falafel. Yes, the dishes are Middle Eastern but their exact origin, really, is not known. Palestinians and Syrians also claim hummus as a national food.

One newspaper quoted a lunch-stand owner of Syrian-Jewish descent as scoffing at the Lebanese, "Because they can't create planes and guns and atomic weapons they are latching onto something so stupid."

The most famous place for Palestinian hummus is Abu Shukri in Jerusalem 's Old City . It is always crowded and for delicious reason. There, the proprietor is more philosophical in explaining that the foods in question are long common to the Levant - the area encompassing Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and historical Palestine - and that the Turkish occupation actually spread their popularity.

Abboud says it is up to a court to decide whether Lebanon will prevail with the patents. He is already dismayed that the "Guinness Book of World Records" title for the largest plate of hummus was set earlier this year in Jerusalem .

"We have very strong feelings that this sort of thing is not theirs to play with," he told me.

It is unclear before which court such a case may appear. Abboud says it could be a costly process but added that Lebanese hummus makers are already losing millions of dollars a year to Israeli exports.

On the other end of this food chain, hummus consumers are likely to be satisfied by any outcome. And one patron said a food fight between Lebanon and Israel is certainly better than all-out war.

Janis Mackey Frayer, Middle East Bureau Chief, CTV News