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| - A word of advice, come here for the food and take it home. This is not a place where you'd want to eat in, trust me. It's tiny, there are only two tables crammed against the wall and there was no A/C, at least while we were there. Did I mention it was uncomfortably small? Calling this place intimate would be like calling a closet with two tables in it cozy. But, hell, if that's what you're into, they've got two tables with your name on them. During our visit there was also a loud industrial fan sitting in the window box up front and the door was open to the street. Not exactly pleasant. The drinks are in a cooler up front, and the stick-on desert mural on the wall adds a nice touch. It really felt like we were there. Anyway, our visit started off on quite an interesting note.
We walked in, 6pm-ish, Saturday. There was a guy sitting at the picnic table outside waiting for his order. Another customer, a good sign. Upon entering I noticed two people, a younger guy behind the counter, silent, working the grill diligently, and another, older gentleman, chef's coat, a manager's look on his face. We weren't greeted immediately so it was a tad awkward. They just kind of looked up at us and then went back to their work. We took a couple of menus and sat at one of the tables to finalize our selections. Speaking of the tables, they're made out of the cross section of a large tree, bark and all. Very rustic indeed. You can count the rings while you wait.
We approached the counter to order. Our plan was to eat there but it was not to be. We sat at a table and waited as our food was made to order. It took about 30 minutes. It was a bit longer than I expected but we did order a lot of food. There was another guy, clearly a friend of the manager, who sat at the other table. They spoke in loud Arabic bursts back and forth while he ate and sipped a Pepsi through a straw and occasionally wandered behind the counter. As for the eating in thing, they boxed up all of our food and sat it on the counter. The manager type guy then asked us if we were eating there or taking it to go. What? You've already boxed it all up and you're asking us if we're eating in? Strange. Yeah, we took it to go. Probably for the best. Between the fan, the kitchen and the street noise I couldn't hear myself think.
Now for the reason behind the 4-star review (3.5 really, but who's counting) and the real saving grace for a place like Cafe Falafel, the food. Our order:
Falafel: Some of the best I've had in the city. Not the usual round shape I've become accustomed to, but little crunchy mini loaves of fried chickpea goodness seasoned perfectly.
Chicken Shawarma: Essentially a grilled chicken wrap sandwich. The wife really liked it. The wrap itself was fresh and the pickled turnips added a wonderful punch of acidity that married well with the juicy chicken.
Mixed Grill: I wanted some meat and I got it. A Shish sampler. it comes with one each of the beef, chicken and ground meat varieties along with rice and a salad. I was not disappointed. My favorite, the Shish Kefta. While not in the most appetizing of shapes (I couldn't help but giggle when I saw it), it reminded me of a small meatloaf. It was full of fresh herbs and spices and very lean. The grilled chicken was tender and moist. The kebab, probably my least favorite of the trio, was a tad chewy. The salad, actually more like a salsa with diced onions, cucumbers, tomatoes and herbs, was good, just not my thing and the rice was tasty.
Hummus: This had to be some of the smoothest, most flavorful hummus I've ever had. Seriously, there wasn't a chickpea chunk to be seen. Clearly made fresh it was drizzled with olive oil and topped with a garnish of whole chick peas. It came with a handful of pita slices.
OK, so the place wasn't exactly boiling over with hospitality and the atmosphere is more food truck than bistro, but the food was spot on. I've pretty much stuck to Aladdin's when it comes to Middle Eastern food here in the Cleveland area. Mostly because I'm a creature of habit. This is the real deal not some uppity suburban facsimile staffed by a myriad of petite blonde hipsters in tight jeans. On this day, that habit may have been broken. Is it a mind-blowing, cultural experience? Hardly. Is it worth the drive from across town? Maybe. I'd like to say I'll definitely be back, but the next time I have a hankerin' for some ethnic I'll probably just hit up somewhere closer to home. I'm lazy that way.
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