Shawafel and the Washingtonian's 100 Cheap Eats

I'm paralyzed at a top 100 crossroads: with only two restaurants left, one is closed until late 2013 because of extensive water damage and I'm waiting on another to permit me to make a reservation for a dinner that will cost me $225. That's without alcohol (aka sin vino). Needless to say, an amateur food critic who embarked on a quest to eat 100 good meals finds herself a little cranky, despite finding herself having indulged in sensual culinary pleasures for more than a year.

All that's to say that it's possible this whole food adventure could subsequently be form-less, in a series of random visits to random places to eat random, possibly good, things, all in the hopes that Citronelle gets its pipes fixed soon and its mess mopped up. Thankfully, however, the Washingtonian has another list as a foil to the $225 meals with foie gras mousses, pan-fried sweetbreads and wine pairings: Washingtonian's 100 Cheap Eats. Like its snootier old sister, the dowager top 100, the list features restaurants all over the city. However, it's refreshingly broken up into categories like "burgers and hot dogs," "Vietnamese," "pizza," and "Greek," some of my favorite things. I've already been to many of them, either in the scope of the top 100 or as accidental restaurant discoveries, but I'd hazard a guess none of them have tasting menus that tax both one's pocketbook and pant size.

So it's begun! The first deliberate Cheap Eats visit was last night, to Shawafel on H Street NE. Dotti and I find the whole area a bit dicey, so conveniently found a spot directly in front of the restaurant.  That way, we could scurry across the street to a bar, back across the street to dinner, and then to another bar without actually encountering more than 10 people. Granted, we almost got hit by at least one Cadillac, but our full bellies would have just made us bounce a little.

We knew Shawafel didn't serve alcohol (nor, it turns out, do they serve good freshly-made fruit drinks as we had hoped) so we started off with beers across the street at H Street Country Club. This was one of many Allagashes that evening.

 

Shawafel reminds me of the Lebanese places in France: the real estate is narrow but goes back rather far, with a few tables on one side and diner-style stools on the other side. The decor is no-nonsense because you're there for the sandwiches. Shawafel stays open until 3am and the charming gentleman who took our order intimated that drinkers on H Street take full advantage of its late hours.

I started with the tabbouleh and the lentil soup, both of which were delicious: the tabbouleh had almost no bulghur wheat, so was rich with lemon-drenched parsley and juicy tomatoes. The lentil soup didn't have an extremely rich broth, but was the perfect size (Shawafel serves soup and salads in half portions, perfect for trying more of each) and was hot on a blisteringly cold evening. Dotti ordered a very pretty hummus--the olive oil was beautiful, but it could have done with a bit more garlic or salt.

I had Shawafel's flagship sandwich, the Shawafel (it took me until I actually ordered it to figure that out). It featured a combination of both shwarma meat and falafel, and was packed with lettuce, tomato, pickled turnips, parsley, and what I think was mint tahini. It was fresh and rich and the variety of textures made each bit different: sometimes meat, sometimes vegetarian, sometimes salad. Admittedly, this is not a flattering picture but I was too eager to keep eating it that I didn't have time to do it much justice.

  

It's going to be a good adventure, full of cleverly-named restaurants and others that might be impossible to actually pronounce. Bring on 100 more!