There are many things you can order in Falafel. Pizza, Middle-Eastern salads, Chicken's stuffed to their eyeballs with rice, etc. etc. But really, there's no reason to know of any of these options. For two pounds fifty you can buy yourself probably the tastiest humus-smothered-lettucey-chickpeaball-in-pitta creation going. Anywhere.
Since it was only a short stumble over the road from my old house it's served me terrifically well over the last twelve months or so. I'd even go as far as to stay it's been a bit of a cornerstone for many key moments in my Manchester life.
Perhaps the most satisfying meal i ever ate was at Falafel, and like all memorably appetising meals it had more to do with the timing than the taste. Shortly before Christmas last year, stumbling back in the very early evening (probably about 7pm), seriously incapacitated from an afternoon spent boozing with my friend James, I decided I needed falafel. Managing to navigate the bright lights and moronic drivers of Rusholme, I made it somehow, and purchased a terrific falafel (Falafel's falafels are always terrific). It sobered me up (a necessity) and I was well and ready for celebrations later in the evening. Never did falafel taste so good.
Falafel was my dinner on the day i finished the last exam of my degree.
Falafel was probably the first meal me and that ex-girlfriend ate together.
Falafel staff have been personally rude to me whilst i was trying to get some sponsorship cash for a charity thing I did. I still advocate the place.
Falafel was even my last ever meal in Manchester. The last supper you could say. I was meeting an old, dear friend, in fact this blog's french correspondent, Morgane Billy, in town to go see some bands. Some dinner was needed, so Morgane brought falafel along. With green chilli sauce. Goodbye Manchester!
Falafel was also my dinner on my last day in Manchester. I actually went twice that day. I terribly miss Falafel's falafel.
ReplyDeleteDown. So far, Mr Moto had purposely, quite deliberately, denied himself the feel of those nyloned haunches, but now he would allow himself that further pleasure.
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Down. So far, Mr Moto had purposely, quite deliberately, denied himself the feel of those nyloned haunches, but now he would allow himself that further pleasure.
If only I could have one now
ReplyDeleteIt's just the only place I go when I am at Wilmslow road
And also the great freshly-made pizza the quality expected of a pizza has changed