vegansaurus!

Food Cart Review: Liba Falafel Truck

In San Francisco, street food seems to be all up in the hizzy! Even for vegans! It’s gonna be the next Austin, Texas (where vegan Philly cheesesteaks and chocolate-dipped bananarchists come from carts) or some shit, but cold all the time.

Sadly, the East Bay seems to be lacking in novel food carts. Our street food is almost exclusively taco trucks, and I so much wish lard was vegan.

So Thank Dog for Liba Falafel Truck! These fantastic people park twice a week right in front of the Pixar studio (who keeps pumping out fucking adorable movies like animal-friendly Up and monster-friendly Monsters, Inc) in Emeryville.

The well dressed woman who took my money told me everything but feta cheese and some yogurt sauce were vegan. She said she wanted to make it easy for us! how nice! They’ve got tons of options, but I kept it simple. Your falafel sandwich comes with the essentials, chimichurri herb paste, a GODDAMN pickle, hot sauce or no hot sauce, and three of six crazy add-ons. I chose roasted eggplant, red cabbage with black sesame seeds, and hummus. There are also some over-the-top complimentary condiments, but LET ME GET TO THE POINT!:

It was delicious. One of my top 2 falafels ever! Would eat again!

Check it out from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m., Mondays at 64th & Hollis Streets in Emeryville, Tuesdays and Thursdays at Park Avenue and Hollis Street in E’ville, and Wednesdays and Fridays at 155 De Haro St. at Alameda Street in San Francisco.

Sunrise Deli!

I am declaring Sunrise Deli the best falafel in San Francisco proper. DEAL WITH IT. You all can argue with me but whatever, I don’t care what you have to say and won’t pretend to, either. As you can easily tell, I am a popular girl.

I was turned on to Sunrise by the good people at VegNews magazine and Brassica Supperclub and they collectively know their shit (read: food). The best suggestion I got was to buy some hot falafel balls (hehehe) to eat while they make your sandwich! OH MAN ALIVE! Hot, crispy, not too greasy but plenty greasy enough, they are truly something! So often falafels are too dry/hard/dense/stale but not here.

You can get your sandwich with or without the eggplant/potato combo; people seem to feel strongly about the authenticity/deliciousness of this (as they do about so many about so many seemingly ridiculous things) but I freaking love it. You can also get one with avocado I KNOW BUT SO GOOD or a plate with four falafel balls (hehehe), salad, hummus and tahini.

So again, it’s the best falafel in San Francisco and I don’t care if you say differently because guess what, I won’t be reading the comments or checking my email or having any communication with the outside world ever again so COMPLAIN AWAY, I KNOW I’M RIGHT KTHXBYE.

La Mediterranee!

La Mediterranee is a local Mediterranean food chain with three locations, two in SF and one in Berkeley. Vegans can get a variation of the Salad Mediterranee which is hummus, baba ghanoush, tabuleh, Armenian potato salad, lentil salad and green salad. If you’re feeling extra hungry and you’re with another person or a group, you can get a vegan version of the Mediterranean Meza which is basically what everything in the Salad Mediterranee and dolmas too. Actually, I would skip that because it’s like $5 bucks more and you can only really add dolmas if you’re vegan. They also have falafel at lunch but it’s usually sold out by dinner. Always one vegetarian (usually vegan) soup too, which is probably something made with lentils and very good. The best part though is that they serve a VEGAN CHOCOLATE CAKE! It’s not marked vegan on the menu but it is! And it’s REALLY delicious, rich but not overly sweet. Very, very good and perfect end to dinner. They also can make their coffee drinks with soy milk. Overall, a solid choice for vegans if you’re feeling like Mediteranean food. It can also be a good date place in the evening, all locations are dimly lit and romantical. The Berkeley one also has a delightful heated patio in front.

Awhile ago I was eating there with a guy friend and this rather cute but obviously insane dude came up to me and said, “when you’re ready to dump this cheeseburger and get with a real man, you should call me.” and handed me his number. It was truly an act of crazy, not to mention REALLY the wrong line to use on me. Logically my response was, “?!??!!” and my friend, Dave, said, “I’m sorry, CHEESEBURGER?” The little dude (looking at Dave), “Uh yeah, cheeseburger? (looking at me) I know this is weird but you’re cute and if you’re not really with him, I’d love to take you out for a drink or a coffee or something?” and I’m all, “Uh, okay, thanks?” Dave is cracking up at this point and the poor little guy turned bright red(der) and walked-ran away. Where do dudes get the balls to do shit like this??? I can’t even make the moves on someone who is like, “Let’s have sex.” Anyway, I’ll always love Le Mediterranee in Berkeley for that awesome memory. And no, I never called the guy. That’s a lie. I called but totally chickened out when I realized it was a number for a U.C. BERKELEY DORM. I’m like 52. Knowing the statutory rape law in California as I do, I chose not to leave a message. Still not sure if I regret this or not. To this day, whenever I email or talk to Dave the conversation will eventually go back to, “Remember that dude who called me a cheeseburger?? That guy was amazing.” And he was. I hope he’s with some girl who thinks he’s USDA Quality Prime Rib. Ugh, I’m grossing out over here, I’ll stop.

Baladie Gourmet Café

The lentil soup at Baladie is one of the best deals in the Financial District. A mere $3.25 for 16 ounces of delicious, hearty, spicy-if-you-want-it vegan lentil soup, plus pitas should you care for them. You know what you get for $3.25 at the wretched San Francisco Soup Company? NOTHING.

I had falafel in a pita once and it was all right; the hummus was good but the actual falafels were giant and dry. The dolmas are tasty. There’s a guy in the kitchen who wears two thin braids at the top of his forehead stuck straight up like antennae. Service is fast, even when they’re crowded. There is a big mural of Petra, the ancient rose city of Jordan, on the righthand wall; it is beautiful and a little bit garish. What I mean is, do not pass by Baladie on your way to Boxt Foods Co. or some other place to eat an overpriced salad on restaurant row. You will regret it in an hour when you are starving again.

What you should’ve ordered, especially on cold, bright, windy days, or foggy days, or rainy days, is LENTIL SOUP. It is so, so good. Everything you could want in a yellow lentil soup: carrots and potatoes and crispy lentil chips, and enough spice to break a little sweat along your hairline. I’d compare it to the first lentil soup I ever loved, namely my mother’s, but they are so different you couldn’t really compare them. And you can’t buy my mother’s soup from friendly people in an adorable little nook of a restaurant for $3.25, so Baladie it is.

I mean, I really love that soup.

Sabra Grill

You climb a narrow staircase to get in here, and the noise from Chinatown/FiDi/Union Square fades away. The walls are covered with religious and/or Israeli art/photography/iconography (the Dali print is a highlight). The owner is a big, friendly, intimidating man. The last time I was there, the waiter’s yarmulke had Mario (as in, one of the Super Nintendo Brothers) embroidered on it.

Important note: They close two hours before sundown on Fridays for the sabbath, and they close for Jewish holidays, too. I recommend checking an online calendar before getting your hopes all up for the food. I have made this mistake, and it’s crushing.

I have eaten there about 10 times now, at first during my painful FiDi lunchbreaks, and most recently with my cousin who had never had falafel before. Sabra probably ruined him, as it is doubtful he will ever find such divine little falafels outside of the Holy Land. The service is not the fastest, but everyone is so polite, and I think the prices are quite reasonable. One of my omnivorous friends got the lamb sandwich, and sang its praises to the heavens.

The lamb, friends, is not what I am here to tell you about.

THIS IS THE BEST FALAFEL I HAVE EVER EATEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. It has ruined me for all other falafels, and I have eaten a lot of balls of fried chickpeas in my life. I had NO IDEA that falafel could be so fucking moist and crispy and delicate and goddamn, just thinking about it has started me salivating like Pavlov’s dog, the falafel is just so fantastic. Not kidding.

If this is the standard, I will never eat any other falafel but Israeli falafel ever again. In this city, it is Sabra or nothing.

But! I completely forgot about my other favorite part of Sabra: the pickles. I am barely a pickle person; sometimes I can choke down a few bites of a sweet pickle, and I generally have no problem with relish in and on the many things you can put it. Real pickle-y pickles, though, much like raw cherry tomatoes and soft grapes, make me absolutely gag. Biting into one of those things is one of my worst food experiences ever. This is why I like sweet; they’re teeny, unintimidating, pleasant every once in awhile. What Milka is to Lindt 70 percent, so is the sweet pickle to the dill.

Sabra’s pickles are no wussy-baby sweet pickles: they are thick slices of juicy, salty dill pickles that they give you on a plate before bringing you your precious falafel. And I love them. I could, and once almost did, eat myself sick on them. It’s hard to share them. Just these lovely pickle slices in front of you, calling your name. Sabra changed my life, or at the very least, changed my palate.

If you are visiting the city, it is just inside the famous Chinatown gates on Grant, and after an hour wandering around that neighborhood, an hour of quiet upstairs at Sabra with the city’s best falafel is exactly the remedy for your case of exhaustion/overstimulation. Tip: If you only want a falafel-in-a-pita lunch, order the falafel sandwich. It is not on the big menu, but sometimes they forget to give you the small, sandwich menu, so be sure to ask for it.

Medjool!

Medjool is located in the fake mission district. It’s where people from the marina* come when they want to slum it in the scary, scary mission. It’s pretentious and ridiculous (look at all those a-holes out front in the picture. What a bunch of a-holes.) but they have a fair amount of vegan items on the menu (which is advertised as, “It’s more than a menu. It’s a cultural event.” BLOW ME, MEDJOOL) so I was game to try it. I went two times and had decent experiences with the hummus and cous cous, nothing extraordinary, but my third time visitng. HOLY SHIT. Beyond the terrible service, terrible food and terrible music there was the FUCKING TERRIBLE SERVICE. Our waiter was so snooty, so slow and so thick in the head, it was truly mind boggling. He wasn’t exactly mean but more operating in a fashion that defied all logic. It was like in his universe, two plus two equals cookie. Do you know what I’m saying? It’s as if he was thoroughly confused that he was our waiter and not some dude who showed up at Medjool to PARTY!!! He never said hello, never told us the specials and when we finally flagged him down to order he asked, “what you want?” With this kind of service, WHO NEEDS ENEMIES?! I wasn’t all that surprised that 3 out of 4 dishes were fucked up with nary an apology or speedy correction and the biggest of all horrors, he brought me a FUCKING WHOLE CHICKEN. I was like, oh bitches no. I am VEGAN. He was like, “Oops. My bad.” I remained cool. He took away the carcass. 5 minutes later a runner comes with ANOTHER WHOLE CHICKEN. I ask my friends which one of them is fucking with me. Seriously, is this a joke? I call the waiter back over and explain problem with receiving wrong order twice and he offers no apology or explanation and returns with my correct order a full 20 minutes later. Everyone else is done eating. I am forced to eat alone and feel extra fat. Fucking horrendous. I will never return and encourage all other vegans and vegan sympathisers to do the same. Luckily, nobody is beating down my door to take me to Medjool. Nobody is beating down my door to take me anywhere. Tear.

Actually, I take it back. The waiter was not only an alien from planet insane incompetency but also pretty mean. I might even call him a douche. Actually, to call him a douche would be an insult to douches because they’ve at least been inside a woman. Oh, snap!

*For those of you unfamiliar with SF geographical stereotypes, I’m sorry. They’re pretty great. Being from the marina basically means that, if you’re a woman, you’ll finish college, work for a couple of years, find some jr. banker d-bag to marry, quit working to plan your wedding and then get pregnant, never work again, raise ungrateful brats while your husband is off cheating with a dude named Chereyl. Also, you bronze your cleavage.

Ali Baba’s Cave!

Okay, what genius/saint thought it smart to grind, spice and fry chick peas into little fried balls of perfection? I’d like to shake that man’s hand and then possibly simulate oral sex on his fingers. Was this man Jesus himself? I’m not one to speculate on whether or not Jesus invented falafel balls but whoever did most likely can do other crazy shit like turn water into wine and start enormous holy wars based strictly on the debate of his existence. To you, sir, I say, BRAVO. I also say, PEACE IN THE MIDDLE EAST!!!

The falafel at Ali Baba’s Cave is really very yummy and you can add fried eggplant and fried potatoes and fuck if that isn’t the trifecta of fried deliciousness. However, i’m gonna be forced to take one demerit point because these fools NEVER listen to you and I think it’s worse if you’re a woman. Listen, I understand that i’m the weaker and stupider sex*, but if I say no fucking hot sauce, I mean no fucking hot sauce this whitey will DIE. And I know you don’t value my life because I am a woman but um, I don’t know what to say. I really have no ground to stand on when who I fundamentally am is a second class citizen at best and a wretched, whiny, bleeding, nagging, hooker beast at worst. What can you do? The falafel is REALLY good. It’s so good, in fact, that the other night, I exited Ali Baba’s Cave on a complete falafel cloud of happiness. I was so excited and happy about everything that I yelled, “cute dog!” to a guy and his super cute dog as they drove by. The guy gave me a puzzled look and as he rounded the corner, I noticed that what I saw in the back seat was not, in fact, a dog but rather, a very old and very short lady with curly white hair. Presumably his grandmother. I am an asshole. Also, this falafel? Possibly magical as it creates illusions of the eye. Also, I am an asshole.

Oh and there are two locations for your falafel pleasures, one in the Mission and one in the Lower Haight!

*This is a proven fact. Please don’t argue with me about “Right to Vote” and “Able to Show Face Flesh in Public”, Lucy Liberal and Esther Equality. Just get back in the kitchen and finish my pot pie, bitches! And if you forget the carrots like last time, there will be hell to pay. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I will murder your whole family.

Blue Front Café

Blue Front isn’t just in the Haight, it’s on Haight, so all the food is a little pricier than you’d like. The wraps are chock full of deliciousness, however, and the texture and tang of the hummus is incomparable. I mean, for serious. I hear the gyros are good, but not being a meat-eater, I can’t vouch for them.

The vegetarian selections are bountiful and tasty. The avocado has always been buttery and perfectly ripe — no one likes a hard avocado, after all — and that spicy orange-colored sauce is delightful. The garden salad is huge and a good price. Get falafel in a pita with some dolmas to go and stop off at the New Lite Market for a six-pack, and there’s your night.

When I lived in the Haight, a trip to Blue Front and back took me no more than fifteen minutes round trip, and this was before I learned to call ahead to avoid waiting inside. I don’t know that I ever properly appreciated having such a quality “Mediterranean for the undiscerning Occidental” café so close to my front door, but, hindsight. The owners are Greek Orthodox dudes from Jerusalem, and you must love them for adapting their cuisine to your international palate. Or at least, the palate your parents created when they gave two-year-old you a bunch of food in a plastic plate with inch-high sides and let you mix it all up and eat it as a huge mush of flavors. You see? They know and love you; that’s why you can get a wrap with hummus, avocado, falafel, lettuce, tomato, and dolmas.

I advise getting any of their vegetarian wraps except the one with cheese, which I have never tried and do not advocate on account of its not being vegan. Make liberal use of the orange sauce; it will help you forget that you are paying $1-$2 more for your food than you would were you not on Haight, but sometimes figurative costs do have literal translations, and this is one of them.