Fine Falafel

We had the best falafel in Paris today. At first I didn't believe it, but after tasting it I know, hands down, it is. So far, the best I've had anywhere. The hoummous was the most fantastic hoummous ever. Silken and creamy, it was buttery and nutty without that sharp acidic bite of tahini. Even better, the olive oil on top was gentle and smooth, really light. It complemented, rather than destroyed, the flavors. The sandwich had tiny baubles of falafel, interspersed with tender aubergine, cabbage, tomatoes and a luscious tahini yogurt sauce. There was a line from one end of the street to the next. You have to really know what you're doing to eat there. Basically, you pay the guy at the front before you actually order, get a ticket and stand in line. Or, if you want to eat inside, you go up to the man standing in front, screaming, like he's introducing a circus act, and you tell him how many and he gives you a ticket with a number on it. We only had to wait five minutes and once inside, the food came almost immediately. When we got the bill, the guy gave us the hoummous for free. Sara said they never do that, ever. I think it was because when he asked where I was from I told him St. Louis. I asked if he knew the Cardinals. He said no, but he knew Murphy Lee was from St. Louis. I thought that was great. A Middle Eastern man in the middle of Paris knew about my little city in the middle of the U.S. because of a rapper.