I took my first visit to Chickpea today for dinner and was generally impressed. If that sounds like damning with faint praise, I'll say that the food I had ranged from good to excellent, so all in all a very good meal.
The highlights were the dips. The hummus was aggressively garlicky, pleasantly coarse (just a bit), swirled with good olive oil and garnished with hot peppers. Very successful, one of the finest I've had in Chicago and a nice change from the over-Tahina'ed versions found about town.
Baba was as good as you'd get on Kedzie - smoky and slightly chunky, again, not too much tahina (good thing).
Koosa ma' laban ("zucchini/squash with yogurt") was a nice little revelations. I've never seen this offered at a Chicago Arabic place and was glad to be able to order it. Not overly creamy, good zucchini flavor, and a few pickled onions for garnish made for a unique appetizer. Quite authentic as well. (Cafe Orchid sometimes has a similar dish on deck, though it is warm, contains al dente zucchini and is loaded with dill - it is excellent; ephemeral).
Bread was nearly room temperature, just a bit warmed. This is bullshit. Salam does the same thing. That is bullshit. Every Palestinian I know toasts their bread on a gas stove over an open flame, with great care to achieve the perfect mix of slightly chewy, gently browned, and dotted with small char. It is the only way to approximate a fresh out of the
furun flavor. Why no Arabic place I've been to in Chicago can manage this simple feat is beyond me. No wonder my money goes to the Pakistanis -
bai sab, ek nan! (well in South Asia only) in Chicago it's more like "amigo, un pan mas!"
But I digress. We also ordered fattoush (salad with fried bread) and musakhan (chicken with bread) over my protests that the lady was ordering too much bread. A brief moment of reflection later: what is bread to a Falastini? We gorge on the inverse Atkins - no bacon and all bread. Potatoes with rice with bread and some
macarona thrown in. Just drown it in olive oil. And we are all doin arright. Bring it on.
Fattoush was great. Someone on this forum recently asked about good fattoush. Anonymous internet person: go to Chickpea in Bucktown, there you will find a fine salad filled with cubed radish, seasonal tomato, big heads of Italian parsley, pomegranate vinaigrette and well toasted and olive-oiled pita bits (at least they got this bread right).
And then there was musakhan. Musakhan is sometimes referred to as the Palestinian national dish. Musakhan in its purest form is chicken, chicken fat, chicken stock, olive oil, sumac, turmeric and caramelized onion pizza. It is like flammenkuchen, only without the austro-franco-whatever syllabics and surrounding by stinking near-east shepherds who've eaten nothing but beans and guava all day (don't sleep in that rock shack tonight buddy) or a middle class Palestino-American family in Palos Heights. Mushakhan is not the Palestinian national dish. The Palestinian national dish is a plate of
dabasha (throwing/maiming rocks) served cold. For sustenance, the musakhan will have to do. Literally meaning "warmed-up" the paucity of language reflects the paucity of ingredients. Let me repeat: Chicken, it's fat, water, olive oil, turmeric, sumac, onions, bread, almonds for garnish.
(I am sorry Chicago, Italy, Faransa, there is no bacon in mushakhan, no khanzeer. It cannot be ordered on the side. The scope of our devotion to your way of life - to your welcoming country and eager hands full of green dollars ends at the khanzeer. We can't sell it, and we can't eat it. Our children can, and will, but only until they realize.....)
What I am trying to get at is that this stuff is special and its good. It is as Palestinian as rocks, except people only know about the rocks.
What I had tonight was not the musakhan of Falastin. It was not even the musakhan I make in my home or I eat any mom's house (who is Hungarian). Instead, it is the first musakhan I have ever eaten in a restaurant. It was musakhan made by Palestinians for Chicagoans. It was one of the true tastes of Palestine in Chicago (along with Salam's mensef, but that is another diatribe). But it wasn't....it was too sweet. The bread wasn't oily enough. It didn't make my stomach moan afterward. I didn't require two glasses of syrup coffee and half a pack of cigarettes after. I didn't stay up all night in a hot fever of withdrawal, listening to goats braying, birds singing, mosques ringing. I didn't eat it for 2 days afterward, cold, savoring every oily bite.
But it was pretty good. And unless you know someone who can make musakhan for your, I suggest trying it at Chickpea.
Mushakan, Abwain, Ramallah, Falastin.
"By the fig, the olive..." Surat Al-Teen, Mecca 95:1"