VN AfterTaste

After midnight, slogging through the rain in the University District of Seattle – looking for an open restaurant. Even in the University District most things are closed. There are people on the street – wannabe tough guys, frat boys on the prowl – amid darkened storefronts. Noticeably, many of the storefronts display various Buddhist or Hindu statues and baubles. Perhaps the frat boys are seeking inner peace after midnight. Perhaps not.

There is an open Chinese restaurant, clearly open, as a large neon sign proclaims, “open.” There is a Thai restaurant that may be open because there are two people sitting in the window and it is well lit, but it is otherwise empty and deserted, and one could just as easily assume that these are employees and they are in fact, despite the illumination, closed. Who wants to ask?

...

Further down the street, just before everything seems to get darker, there is what appears to be the last oasis in the night. A nondescript eatery going by the name of Aladdin Gyro-Cery. At first it seems like the kind of place where you order at the window and eat on the sidewalk, or as you walk down the wet and rainy street. However, inside you pass through a hallway, by the kitchen, and into a dining area. The dining area is surrounded by hanging blankets and tapestry. In the middle of the night there are more than half a dozen people there. You order once inside the door and are given a number.

My dining companion, who’s been here before several times, declares his belief that the place is a Palestinian restaurant, based on something he read on the wall during a previous visit. Why argue with a good story?

The menu is simple and carries staples of a Mediterranean or Middle Eastern diet. There are gyros, falafel, Hummus, Baba ghanoush. I order a veggie platter consisting of salad, falafel, bread, Baba ghanoush, hummus, and something wrapped in pickled grape leaves. It comes to the table on a red plastic platter typical of a school cafeteria. On the platter lies a styrofoam plate filled with food and beside it a large round pita bread. Also a napkin and a plastic fork. The plastic fork is evil. When you try to use it the fork tines bend in many opposite directions, seemingly all at the same time. It continues in this haphazard manner until the food is gone.
Have you heard about the time George W. Bush visited a spork factory? He stood up at the end, held the mighty spork aloft, and opined, “this is a symbol of my administration!” Indeed, neither useful as a spoon nor a fork – but handed out to the multitudes ubiquitously, whether they asked for it, or not.

On the Styrofoam plate, divided into quarters, are as follows:
a salad, consisting of lettuce, onion, and tomato,
four falafel balls,
Baba ghanoush, (it is just fun to say Baba ghanoush),
hummus,
grape leaf Dolmas.
And that’s five quarters. It was a great night for mathematicians.

A word about hummus. Hummus, they say, is the only thing the Israelis and Arabs agree upon. This is categorically untrue. In fact, it is safe to say, the entire history of hostility between the Arabs and Jews can be traced to the “proper” preparation of hummus. The matter of how much or how little olive oil to use in preparation has caused endless strife. Anytime you hear someone waxing on about these ethnic conflicts and giving one reason or another as to why these conflicts exist and perpetuate themselves, please feel free to jump in with a correction. It’s about the hummus. That’s what it’s about.

At home I prepare mine with no oil at all. But, at heart, I have always been a heretic.

As to the grape leaves, which are called Dolmas, the only other time I’ve ever eaten them they were a free sample at the QFC grocery. Until the day I went to Aladdin I avoided them – because at QFC they were awful. However, at Aladdin they were fine and were filled with what appeared to be mostly seasoned rice.

Because star ratings are considered obligatory at the end of reviews I rate Aladdin Gyro-Cery as being an Eighteen and a half star establishment.