Don't Judge

If you were apt to judge a place just by walking in, you may not pay Safa Kabob any mind. Still, don’t let its glowing menu board deter you. The motif of the fast food restaurant certainly engrosses the physical space, what with its washed out lighting, quiet atmosphere, and spacious dining room. But given a little toleration, the Middle Eastern kitsch that decorates its sand coloured walls may be just enough to charm you. It certainly charmed me.

Now, I’m not particularly polished when it comes to Traditional Eastern cuisine, but I’m acquainted with enough culinary consultants who are more than happy to spoon feed me when it comes to trying new things, and this time was no exception. Luckily, my fellow comrade in culinary arms was well versed and able to enlightenment me on just what made Safa Kabob Restaurant the modern twist on Traditional Eastern cuisine it claims to be. In fact, what makes it different from other Middle Eastern cuisine is its fusion with markedly Indian dishes that share the same underpinnings of Middle Eastern flavours, but aren’t particularly combined in any fantastic way. That said, the option of a menu that offers kabobs, curries, wraps, and specialty dishes still offers great choice and a meal that can easily fill two for under 30 dollars. 

We elected to try a dish from every section on the menu, and were ambitious enough to eat every dessert. We ordered the lamb kabob (11.99), a seasonal favourite of the place, using its limited but privileged supply of fresh Ontario lamb chops, the beef Gosht Masala (10.99) curry dish, and Safa’s eggplant vegetarian dish (10.99). Confoundingly, our desire to sample every dessert was dissuaded, as we were assured all we’d need to drink was the jug of Mango lassi (5.99), more than enough for two. It was a moment before I could come to terms with a restaurant trying not to sell its customers everything on the menu, but the trolley cart wheeling out copious amounts of naan bread and dishes of rice along with our meals had me rethinking why I had been leery in the first place. 

Yes, we were laden with a buffet of potent purees and succulent stews, accompanied by undressed salads, plain rice, and ever so popular naan bread. To the untrained eye, I was assured the hodgepodge of food could easily appear dull, and the only thing with any flavor reserved to the humble bowls of beef and eggplant; however, the creative eater could make a patchwork of all the flavours offered. Our vegetarian eggplant dish was a compote of aubergine, onions, tomatoes, garlic, and spices. The oily smash was a pungent, spicy mix speckled with quenching minces of coriander that turned any overpowering salty savoury flavor into something bright and clean. Mixed with rice, it became a fulfilling mix of samala spice reminiscent of the curry flavor we associate with so much Indian cuisine. 

Our beef Gosht Masala shared the same spice foundation, enlivened with a fiery concentrated stew of tomatoes, onions, garlic, and fresh green peppers. The dish’s beef tenderly surrendered to any fork, revealing a deep maroon coloured flesh. My naan bread, with its crisply roasted crust and perforated pillowy interior, had no reservations about wiping up any stew left over in the silver bowl. And the mango lassi did a good job of tempering the fire in our bellies; the small, yet surprisingly filling, jug of pureed mango and yogurt coated and calmed the insides of our stomachs and left a memorial sweetness that lingered on the back of our breaths even hours after our meal. And though our lamb chops were more done than I would have preferred, the charred exterior matched a motif of meat that depended only on its own earthy flavor and very little seasoning. A welcomed gamey quality added a good change to the family of flavours in our meal, and had me wondering why I had even thought twice about Safa Kabob Restaurant in the first place.




Hours
Monday 11:00 AM - 8:00 PM
Tuesday 11:00 AM - 8:00 PM
Wednesday 11:00 AM - 8:00 PM
Thursday 11:00 AM - 8:00 PM
Friday 11:00 AM - 9:00 PM
Saturday 11:00 AM - 9:00 PM
Sunday 11:00 AM - 8:00 PM

ANY PAYMENT

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Poor Ol' Fuji-San

If you’re tired of making any kind of effort to visit any kind of all-you-can-eat sushi place in town, your prayers have been answered, because Itamae sushi is the newest ubiquity bogarting on the phenomenon of cosmopolitanism that has been diffusing the neighbourhoods around Waterloo’s university blocks. That’s right, for all the lucky students, all-you-can-eat is a mere jaunt. 13.99 for lunch, 20.99 for dinner. You’d be foolish not to grab a filling, almost irresponsible, lunch every day. And now, when you do, you don’t have to feel like a contemptible in-debt student at an all-you-can-eat facsimile, because Itamae feels and looks a little more urbane. I’m ashamed to say, I found myself hypnotized by the chic, Orientalized space. Cool browns, blacks, greys, forgiving tiled splash-backs; thick, stocky furnishings, pearled dining tables, waiters setting orders on hand held tablets, faux sushi itamaes in blue hakis with murals of origami met with bursts of warm colours on aesthetics reminiscent of the origami motif of the space. Even its centre made the place exalted and heavenly as the gold ceiling reached up to a point representing none other than Fuji itself. The bathrooms had granite counters, and robotic paper towel dispensers; it was a fantastic feast for the eyes, an alright feast for the stomach. Unfortunately, our orders took a good amount of time getting to us, so much so that Joey lost any truck he had with the wait staff, taking his own order and walking up and handing his tab to every sushi chef, making sure he would get what he wanted. And there were the usual chronic mixups and mystery orders that constantly happen at sushi places too.

Itamae offers nothing particularly new, some different menu options, some half-assed desserts masquerading as haute because they look, like the space, really good. That was my biggest tension. I’m a devote fan of egg tarts, but what we received was a beaten egg baked in an obtusely folded wonton, too eggy and off putting. And the Itamae apple pie? Nothing more than an apple fritter, with no spin on it to imply the character or personality of the place. Just an apple fritter. A boring apple fritter. Everything is hit or miss, and that seems to be the complacent accession of all all-you-can-eat-sushi spots. It can’t all be good. But, I argue it can if it didn’t want to seem like a cash grab all the time. Some sashimi was good, the white tuna, clean and salty, the salmon and red tuna, a little stale and brassy from sitting in a fridge. Some sashimi came room temperature, some uncomfortably cool. The eel on my sushi pizza was another climatic affliction. Cold seafood on hot deep fried rice in other words. We did very much enjoy the lotus rolls, though. A series of rolls rolled with bean paper, reminiscent of a thin cabbage, rather than the usual seaweed. And the mango banana roll was somewhat amusing. Mango stuck out of it like shoots of bamboo, wrapped in usual seaweed and rice. It was an ambitious project. The fruit wasn’t as ripe as we would have liked, and the flavours juxtaposed too much to really want it again. Even if a dessert, which it wasn’t, it still fell very short. But again, the menu’s a big thing, with a lot to try, so you’re bound to accept something. We liked the bacon asparagus rolls, and the curry chicken was enlivened by lime and notes of star anise. The grilled mackerel was surprisingly good for something expected so fast.

Itamae sushi doesn’t need to try at anything. Hell, if it had any professionalism, I imagine the waitress would have stepped aside to let me through a hall of crowded people rather than elbowing past me when I approached. But when customers just want to fill themselves us with alright food, forgoing great taste and service, can you blame them? Still, why not just buy a bag of rice? Let’s hope it’s not a representation of the superficiality of cuisine, or anything for that matter, in our break neck developing city, even if substandard goods are conventionally associated with developers just interested in a quick buck. In that case then, I reckon Itamae is in the right place.

ANY PAYMENT

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The White Whale

The Chinese Bakery is my White Whale. It’s elusive, and reminds me of my incredible lightness of being. I’ve spent the largest of my culinary fortunes travelling to eat at as many as I could, hoping someday one would come to my town. I’ve turned over the idea of starting my own. I’ve had an 8 year vocation of trying my best to bake the things they sell, let down and overwrought by the fact that every place everywhere seems to get the same baked goods from some ominous supplier. There is an universality to everything they sell; a capital mentality to the exponential increase of profit in exchange for convenient goods.

 The bakery behind my house once held Chinese owners from the Province of Neimenngu who, when asked, had egg tarts ready for me within the hour. That was a golden age. It was there where everything came from the artisanship of their hands. I liked to pretend that the German goods they baked were a mere cover for all the mian bao they would make me. Sadly, it was short lived. They didn’t stay long. It was an ill-fated space. Their son Mei promised me tutelage in the art of noodling. I brought him tea during the dragon boat festival to seal the deal. That’s how serious I was; but the day I came, they were gone, and the new owners had no idea where they had gone. I never saw them again.

A year later, another bakery opened in the deeps of Kitchener. Yup, there lay the fixed threads of the warp subject to but one single, ever returning, unchanging vibration. It had it all: bubble tea, lemon tea so chalky it’d close your throat, egg tarts, rolled cakes, red bean buns, all settled in a long, PCB lit corridor, lights leaking Won Kar Wai’s own florescent imagination. Everything toted in plastic, prepackaged and ready to be plucked. It was a hard sell, however, especially with the Chinese grocery store next door, which more or less sold the same pre-packaged stuff. And before I knew it, it was gone too. I was surprised. Still, I never expected to see anything like it again, especially if it couldn’t survive where it was. Nor did I expect to stick around long enough to see another incarnation, especially in the old-line uptown space of Waterloo. But hey, I don’t have a crystal ball; Uptown does have a Crystal Palace though- coincidentally owned by the same confident creators of Hot Wheels Tea House, the newest incarnation of the Chinese Bakery. But I’d be a fool to call it that- it’s so much more. Tea House seems an apt label for what it, I imagine, will grow into. For now, while it practices opening, it offers all the baked goods I’d come to expect, as well as Chinese breakfast familiars. Inexpensive breakfast familiars. And if you want the cheapest bubble tea you can find, don’t hesitate to pay the place a visit, at least until it gets its bearings, because you can get a good glass for a nominal 2 dollar fee. That’s right. That’s it. Nothing more. There’s no tax for the time being. It’s too good to be true. Macaroni and toast, chewy steamed buns with crisp cucumber, and sweet tender peking duck; barmy, bitter Hong Kong tea I love, and as much as you can drink thanks to free refills- more than enough to slow down time, or be faster than it. So far, it’s a great place, smack with Sino-Western hybridity, after enough tea, you’d think you were living by The Bund.



N2J 2W7

519-208-8989

Hours: For now, whenever it feels like it.

Any Payment

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