Crunchy Bottoms

Striking the caloric balance. Barely.

Tag Archives: hummus

New York City 2012: Taïm – Best Falafel Sandwich

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The pair of degenerates featured in this picture of Taïm’s shopfront refused to step out of my camera frame. They also happen to be my accomplices – or, well, ‘friends’ if I must be so kind as to admit – for a falafel getaway in West Village. My friends clearly get treated to a healthy dose of my special blend of humour, and fortunately for them, my affection takes the form of sarcastic, deadpan remarks, with the occasional tongue-in-cheek comeback. I only give my friends the best.

Now, on to the point of this post: Falafel. Deep-fried rounds of ground chickpeas or fava beans of Middle Eastern origins. It’s hard to directly attribute any one country for this marvelous creation, so let’s just skip the historical commentary.

The last time I had falafel so good that I was convinced that I could give up meat was in Paris, at L’As du Fallafel (I do plan to write about my European foodscapades before the turn of the next millenia). The falafel sandwich I had was messy and wholesome. Skills in serviette management were crucial. The falafels themselves were amazing. Those were the best I had had in my life up until then. The operative words being ‘until then’, because I have found the best since then.

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These are the best falafels in New York, as voted by countless reliable food snobs, the NY Times, Serious Eats, and me. Not to promote Bobby Flay any further, but I also happened to watch how these chickpea fritters bowled him flat on his back in yet another staged Throwdown on the telly.

I run the risk of gushing, and no one likes digital diarrhoea, so I’ll keep this short.

The falafels are freshly fried, deliciously nutty and fluffy. If you order the Green Falafels, split them open and you’ll be stunned to see a vibrantly green core, bright and dewy with flecks of parsley, cilantro, and mint. I don’t have a picture. I spent only a second admiring them before I stuffed my face.

The Falafel Sandwich ($6.25) is Taïm’s ultimate crowd-pleaser from their extensive menu of other crowd-pleasers. The pitas (wholewheat or white) are unbelievably fresh, made in-house perhaps, warm and soft, yet reliable enough to support the weight of copious amounts of hummus, israeli salad, pickled cabbage, and creamy tahini. This sandwich is warm and cool, luxurious yet light, crunchy, smooth, and so darn tasty. Almost every possible component of a great sandwich is embodied in this one. I’m not ashamed to say that I ordered a second.

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What’s interesting is that Taïm’s falafels come in three flavours: Green, Harissa (with Tunisian spices), Red (with roasted peppers). Think of the Green as a classic falafel, the Harissa as fragrant one, and the Red as the sweet one. I had friends ordering the Mixed Falafel Platter ($12), which comes with all three types of falafel, israeli and tabouli salads, and sauces.

I had to skim through Taïm’s menu again for this post, and let’s just say that I’m beyond frustrated right now. If I wasn’t limited by stomach capacity and time back then, I’d have tried their babaganoush, their French Fries with Saffron Aioli (I know!), Fried Eggplant, all their salads and smoothies, and the falafels, and falafels, and more falafels.

I did get a bite of the Baklava ($3), but I wasn’t sure what I was comparing it against since I don’t think I’ve had good baklava, ever.

Everything is freshly made. You can taste it, smell it, see it. This outlet at West Village is small, a hole-in-the-wall. There’s another outlet at Nolita, and – if social media is on your side – there’s their food truck, cruising through NYC every day feeding its lucky, lucky people. Follow them on Twitter…

…while I unfollow them, to spare myself the agony of receiving updates on something I can’t have, three oceans away.

Taïm

Address: 222 Waverly Place, New York 10014

Phone: 212-691-1287

Hours: 11am-10pm Daily

Twitter: TaimMobile

artichoke cafe + bar

In the 4 months that I’ve been away from writing proper, I’ve been violently sucked into a whirlwind of events, bludgeoned with massive amounts of food, met the incredible people behind food establishments, harvested an insane amount of food photographs, and got tossed into the world of publishing – all in the name of Urban Relish. What was supposed to be a small-scaled summer food publication almost immediately blew out of proportion and there went 4 months.

But that’s not the point of this post.

The point is: Meet my latest obsession.

Moorish Cuisine – a melange of cuisines from the Middle Eastern/Mediterranean countries. Turkey, Morocco, Spain, Portugal, and more, Moorish cuisine is best summed up as probably the best thing that the rampaging Ottomans left behind before the empire was broken up into what we know today as Turkey, Arabia, Syria, and the like.

In a nutshell, you’re supposed to be feasting at a table with friends whom you love enough to share the bounty with. You order up a storm, and dive right in. And there’s so much to love about such a philosophy that I’ve been back about a total of 5 times now, with a handful or so of returns in the planning.

As part of the mammoth food guide, Urban Relish, that I was slaving away for, I had the opportunity to visit Artichoke for a tasting session. All I’d heard about them was their brunch. And if you’re like me and have only heard about their brunch, well I have just one thing to say: Stop hearing it, because I’m going to tell you about their dinners.

Of course, it’s chef Bjorn Shen who has crafted this contagious culture in his restaurant, and all I needed was just a little chat with him for it to start infecting (in the best way possible). If you need an example of his kitchen philosophy, just have a look at that chalk-scrawled wall in the picture on the right. He’s great with his meats, just in case you can’t tell.

It’s all about great food, colour, texture, boisterous groups of people, passing around a Forgotten Grain Salad to share, mopping up plates of dips with flat breads, and perhaps a meat platter if you’re so inclined. Although I must say that if you do order a meat platter, chances are, Chef Bjorn himself might just come right up to your table in the midst of grilling some haloumi and try to convince you to order a Beetroot Tzatziki instead.

When at Artichoke, if something on the menu looks foreign to you, order it. Don’t know what’s blackened Turkish butter? Or the aforementioned haloumi? Only one way to find out. If you’re still insecure, I’m telling you they’re all good. Details in a while.

Here he is, orchestrating the photoshoot as I was perched atop a high stool. He admitted to having dabbled in food photography a while back before starting Artichoke, and burst out of the restaurant arms full with cups, bottles of cider, cutlery, napkins – anything and everything that could be a prop.

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