If you didn't know what to look for (eg, if you're a Manhattanite) you might miss the totally nondescript storefront entrance to this fabled eatery. You look down at the torn Time Out article clutched in your hand and wonder if this is the place, since the last three stores you passed all seem to share the same street number. Your bravado is rewarded the instant you step into the world of Ali El-Sayed, chef and propietor of the Kabab Cafe.
The intoxicating smells of grilling meats melds perfectly with the wanderlust inspired by the colorful and heartfelt dining room. The casual seating and eclectic art inspire conversation and sharing. Ali decorated the space with a mix of the domestic and exotic: sepia-toned portraits of his mother and other family hang near old newspaper clippings and rare musical instruments. His brother Moustafa (who owns his own restaurant, Mombar, a few stores down) hand-crafted all the beautifully intricate mosaic tops of all the tables. Not only are you eating works of art, you are immersed in them.
The artisan in his studio. The open kitchen is the small but vibrant heart of the space, with 6-8 tables arrayed against the walls. Even without the enticing aromas, this world-class chef would be able to fill a room based on the sheer force of his charisma alone. If you go early enough to have him to yourself, he will talk to you from his open kitchen, waxing philosophical on everything from recipes to relationships. Assisted by only one other cook, Ali has been transforming a tiny Steinway nook into a convivial salon for friends and foodies alike for over a decade.
I deem you The Best
Mixed Meze Plate in Astoria. Which is saying a lot since this neighborhood may singlehandedly churn out the majority of the hummus consumed in the tri-state area. This unbelievable spread contains the requisite buttery nutty
hummus, but also the creamiest
baba ganoush I've ever tasted. The
fool (lentils) is the savory superior of a bean dip. The physical and spiritual heart of this appetizer plate is the
deep-fried escarole: served directly from the sputtering pan, it is amazingly crisp and melts in your mouth. Not to be outdone, the cute little
falafel balls that ring the plate are perfectly crunchy golden on the outside and slightly green and tender on the inside. They were born to be married to the hot sauce in a glorious ceremony in my mouth. Everything is spiced with some magical proprietary mix containing
sumac, which is a delightfully tart powder that Ali sprinkles on your plate before serving. Ten dollars. Yes, you heard me right. $10.
Heavenly homemade hot sauce. I don't know what was in it, besides what Ali loving calls "Egyptian hocus pocus".
The eponymous
kababs. The combination platter is the way to go: for $15 you get lovely tender chunks of grilled meat (your choice of chicken, beef, or lamb served off the skewer) as well as
kefta nuggets (ground beef and lamb). The meats are perfectly supported by a medley of grilled vegetables: zucchini, carrots, onions, and peppers. One bite is enough to convince you that humans were designed to be carnivores.
The perfect palate cleansers: hot tea. The
licorice tea with apple slices as well as the traditional mint (not pictured) were piping hot yet mellow, calming and refreshing. Like going to a day spa but only costing $2.50.
Once, I thought I knew what lamb was. Then I ordered one of the specials of the day:
slow cooked lamb shank in a chunky tomato sauce with grilled vegetables. Never once did I grapple with a knife, the succulent meat just fell right off. The white rice pilaf is fluffy and flavorful. The sauce was so tangy that I asked Ali if vinegar was the secret ingredient. He laughed and fervently motioned me over to him, standing at a burner in the kitchen. He generously invited me to look at the key ingredient, sitting in a colander amongst all the other accoutrements of a masterful kitchen... it was
whey. As in the liquid that runs off of the homemade yogurt (curd) when strained.
Mixed right into the sauce! It was as if the secrets of the universe were revealed to me and I returned humbly to my table a few feet away to devour the fruits of genius. Ali is practically giving this away to the masses at $13 a pop.
These two guys walked in while we were eating. Old friends who have been patrons for more years than I've had a driver's license. They were
vegetarians and got plates and plates of special salads (avocados?!) dished up fresh... none of which were on the menu. Ali saw me eyeing one and boisteriously threw me some salad from the bowl to sample. Delicious! What is this and how do I order it? Call ahead, he said. Mental note: put Ali on speed dial.
Utterly stuffed, we had no choice but to decline the dessert offerings. Next time, we said. But before we could finish saying "no thanks" Ali was there with this plate in hand; he said I had the "look" that said I really
did have room for dessert. His gift to us was the golden
honey cake made with semolina so refined that it was hard to believe that this was born of the humble corn plant. Soaked in a toothsome yet light honey syrup, this little delicacy reminded us yet again that indeed Ali knows best.
Kabab Cafe, 25-12 Steinway Street, Astoria (at 25th Avenue)
718.728.9858
The intoxicating smells of grilling meats melds perfectly with the wanderlust inspired by the colorful and heartfelt dining room. The casual seating and eclectic art inspire conversation and sharing. Ali decorated the space with a mix of the domestic and exotic: sepia-toned portraits of his mother and other family hang near old newspaper clippings and rare musical instruments. His brother Moustafa (who owns his own restaurant, Mombar, a few stores down) hand-crafted all the beautifully intricate mosaic tops of all the tables. Not only are you eating works of art, you are immersed in them.
The artisan in his studio. The open kitchen is the small but vibrant heart of the space, with 6-8 tables arrayed against the walls. Even without the enticing aromas, this world-class chef would be able to fill a room based on the sheer force of his charisma alone. If you go early enough to have him to yourself, he will talk to you from his open kitchen, waxing philosophical on everything from recipes to relationships. Assisted by only one other cook, Ali has been transforming a tiny Steinway nook into a convivial salon for friends and foodies alike for over a decade.
I deem you The Best Mixed Meze Plate in Astoria. Which is saying a lot since this neighborhood may singlehandedly churn out the majority of the hummus consumed in the tri-state area. This unbelievable spread contains the requisite buttery nutty hummus, but also the creamiest baba ganoush I've ever tasted. The fool (lentils) is the savory superior of a bean dip. The physical and spiritual heart of this appetizer plate is the deep-fried escarole: served directly from the sputtering pan, it is amazingly crisp and melts in your mouth. Not to be outdone, the cute little falafel balls that ring the plate are perfectly crunchy golden on the outside and slightly green and tender on the inside. They were born to be married to the hot sauce in a glorious ceremony in my mouth. Everything is spiced with some magical proprietary mix containing sumac, which is a delightfully tart powder that Ali sprinkles on your plate before serving. Ten dollars. Yes, you heard me right. $10.
Heavenly homemade hot sauce. I don't know what was in it, besides what Ali loving calls "Egyptian hocus pocus".
The eponymous kababs. The combination platter is the way to go: for $15 you get lovely tender chunks of grilled meat (your choice of chicken, beef, or lamb served off the skewer) as well as kefta nuggets (ground beef and lamb). The meats are perfectly supported by a medley of grilled vegetables: zucchini, carrots, onions, and peppers. One bite is enough to convince you that humans were designed to be carnivores.
The perfect palate cleansers: hot tea. The licorice tea with apple slices as well as the traditional mint (not pictured) were piping hot yet mellow, calming and refreshing. Like going to a day spa but only costing $2.50.
Once, I thought I knew what lamb was. Then I ordered one of the specials of the day: slow cooked lamb shank in a chunky tomato sauce with grilled vegetables. Never once did I grapple with a knife, the succulent meat just fell right off. The white rice pilaf is fluffy and flavorful. The sauce was so tangy that I asked Ali if vinegar was the secret ingredient. He laughed and fervently motioned me over to him, standing at a burner in the kitchen. He generously invited me to look at the key ingredient, sitting in a colander amongst all the other accoutrements of a masterful kitchen... it was whey. As in the liquid that runs off of the homemade yogurt (curd) when strained. Mixed right into the sauce! It was as if the secrets of the universe were revealed to me and I returned humbly to my table a few feet away to devour the fruits of genius. Ali is practically giving this away to the masses at $13 a pop.
These two guys walked in while we were eating. Old friends who have been patrons for more years than I've had a driver's license. They were vegetarians and got plates and plates of special salads (avocados?!) dished up fresh... none of which were on the menu. Ali saw me eyeing one and boisteriously threw me some salad from the bowl to sample. Delicious! What is this and how do I order it? Call ahead, he said. Mental note: put Ali on speed dial.
Utterly stuffed, we had no choice but to decline the dessert offerings. Next time, we said. But before we could finish saying "no thanks" Ali was there with this plate in hand; he said I had the "look" that said I really did have room for dessert. His gift to us was the golden honey cake made with semolina so refined that it was hard to believe that this was born of the humble corn plant. Soaked in a toothsome yet light honey syrup, this little delicacy reminded us yet again that indeed Ali knows best.
The way to the Joint is now clearly marked by a kitchy neon sign (to go along with its nouveau-ironic, wood-paneled interior), as if the giant gauche brown velvet curtains weren't enough of a trailmarker. Follow your nose.
If you're lucky, the queue will only be to the door. With high demand as a constant, the folks here have no times for games. There are instructions for "how to order" handwritten up on a piece of cardboard so that you won't be a stuttering idiot when its your turn (if you still falter, they warn you that you'll be sent to the back of the queue). So be decicive, don't get distracted, and if all else fails just say "the works" and something yummy will eventually come to you. Savvy table-hawks will pounce on one of the few coveted booth seats as soon as they hear the hollow slurp of the empty soda.
Behind the counter is an earnest and efficient staff of no-nonsense burger chefs. The deep fryers are the birthplace of their evil french fries: hot, fresh, slightly greasy and nostalgic of drive-thru fast food.
The cheeseburger is solid: cooked to specification (yes, they gladly do "rare") and topped with a variety of condiments, this meaty darling is slightly bigger than a slider but smaller than a restaurant-sized entree. Which is perfect because it leaves room for the golden shoestring fries and thick ice-creamy shakes. Order the burger with the works for the best effect (ketchup, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomato, onion, mayo). The buns are minimalist supermarket generic and perfectly fulfilled in their purpose of holding the whole show together. There's nothing elaborate about this meal; you're in it for the no-frills flavor, remember? The fries come in a greasy brown paper bag and the generous milkshake comes in a waxen-paper cola cup but the effect is worth a million dollars.
And of course, the endorsement with the greatest gravitas is that of the illustrious Stephen Colbert. If I trust anyone's estimation of burgeriness, its Mr. Colbert. Go America.
The lights at Grand Central Terminal, above the Vanderbilt Ave entrance.
Food is love. (Chinese food cart at W. 46th St and 6th Ave, next to Moshe's falafels)
St. Patricks on St. Patricks.
My husband the boulanger: homemade sourdough loaves.
Inside looking out, eating at Mundo in Astoria.
The fountain at the New York Botanical Gardens.
