As a vegetarian, you're supposed to like falafel. It's one of those classic, somewhat apologetic meat-free offerings. But something about dry, bitter chickpea flour sticking to the back of my throat somehow never struck my fancy. I've always viewed falafel as one of those foods, like plain firm tofu, that gives vegetarians a reputation for irrational asceticism.
Come to think of it, I can't remember a single time I've ever eaten a falafel of my own volition, let alone enjoyed it.
Until now...
I'll admit, I was a bit skeptical when my friend and fellow Princetonian A. told me we were going to a place in Le Marais (the trendy, upscale, gay and traditionally Jewish area of Paris where I had already enjoyed a delicious dinner last week with friends) known for its falafels .
Why would I willingly subject myself to bitter blandness - at Paris prices AND the current euro-dollar exchange rate, no less?!
Brothers and sisters, let me tell you - I have been converted to the faithful.
I am now a falafel believer.
A. and I joined the long line outside L'As de Falafel. We paid 5 euros each to a somewhat-sketchy-looking guy standing by the end of the line, who handed us a slip of paper, which we handed to the guy at the window when we reached the front (the line moved fairly quickly considering its length). I watched a man quickly slice open a pita and stuff it full of Mediterranean kosher goodness, smother it in creamy and (in my case) spicy sauces, and hand it to me, neatly wrapped in plastic and yellow napkins. What was in this glorious package?
The pictures doesn't do it justice. To quote Mark Bittman (a New York Times' authority on all things delicious), "the requisite super-crisp, garlicky chickpea fritters, with creamy hummus, lightly pickled red cabbage (something between slaw and kraut), salted cucumbers, fried eggplant and just-hot-enough harissa." The spicy sauce was far from spicy by this California-born-Mexican-food-raised girl's standards - but I wouldn't have wanted it any spicier, for fear of overpowering all the other flavors and textures.
Think all the crunchy goodness of cole slaw, minus the sketchy watery cream sauce. Think succulent morsels of sweet eggplant, that most glorious of vegetables. Think crispy-crunchy balls of spiced goodness with the familiar, comforting heartiness of chickpeas. Think warm, supple pita, cradling it all.
In other words: if you think you're going to find a better lunch in Paris for 5 euros, think again. I've only been here one week, and I've only eaten out three or four times so far, but I'd bet good money that this is as good as it gets - and that's just fine by me, mon ami!
[However, if you do have good 5 euro lunch tips for me, post them in the comments section, or on Facebook! I promise to try and check them out!]
[A. and I in Le Marais, post-falafels]
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