As the minutes ticked closer to sundown, the crowd grew more impatient, pressing against the glass display case, shouting and shoving bills toward the young men filling order after order of the Ramadan sweet bread.

“If you please—”

“What is this stuffed with?”

“Sir, take my money!”

“Just be patient!”

The high-pressure volley of queries, entreaties and pleas for patience plays out each evening of Ramadan as Syrians jostle for marook, a sweet bread eaten here during the Muslim fasting month. As the time of iftar, the breaking of the fast, nears, a day’s worth of hunger pangs combine with jockeying among patrons desperate to get their marook loaves and rush home before the call to prayer sounds from mosque minarets.

There is a hint of tension in the air, but much more pronounced is the smell of baked bread, sugar and chocolate.

Marook, a simple sweetened bread sprinkled with sesame seeds, has been a part of Syrian Ramadan traditions for generations. Each year, as bakeries — and the occasional pizza parlor — devote their entire production to it during Ramadan, new variations emerge to satiate evolving tastes.

Syrians are proud of their rich culinary traditions, but not precious about allowing them to evolve. There are now olives in the fattoush salad. Onions in the shawarma. Parsley in the hummus.