Forgive me for making another Seinfeld reference, but this one was just irresistible.
TDH, having been raised in the land of shawarma, is forever on the hunt for Vancouver’s best. So, for our beach picnic, we decided to hit up one of the best-reviewed shawarma joints in the city – “best” according to various “authorities” on the Internet.
For those of you who can’t remember, or didn’t have the pleasure of experiencing it first hand, Saturday was one of the first days this year when Vancouverites got what was coming: glorious sunshine and the accompanying sweltering heat. (Don’t pretend you hadn’t forgotten how hot and beautiful Vancouver can get.) TDH and I were in line at this particular shawarma joint (I can’t name it lest the Shawarma Nazi ban me), sweating through our shoes, waiting to place our order. I frantically fan myself with my hand, which is surprisingly helpful considering their miniscule size. TDH and I are engaging in pleasant conversation when
“Next!” he yells abruptly, glaring at us. We order one beef shawarma with extra chicken – now how it can be extra if there wasn’t any in the first place is beyond me – and one chicken shawarma. ”No beef!” Alright, two chicken shawarmas, one with extra chicken. Whole wheat wraps? ”No!” Fine.
We step aside while he works his magic. We watch in amazement as he slices succulent shavings of slow-roasted carcass off the super-sized, spinning skewer. He continues to take orders from the others in line. Customer #2 asks for a chicken plate instead of a wrap. ”No plates.” After some hesitation, he orders a falafel wrap. The Shawarma Nazi places three falafels in the microwave. Meanwhile, Customer #3 orders two chicken shawarmas. Customer #4, another chicken shawarma. Customer #5 takes a chicken shawarma too.
The Shawarma Nazi lays out the appropriate number of wraps on the counter. Then, Customer #2 ill-advisedly attempts to change his order to a chicken wrap. ”But I already heated the falafel.” ”But I don’t want a falafel.” ”But I already heated the falafel.” ”But I want a chicken wrap.” ”But I already heated the falafel.” And so it continued, until the Shawarma Nazi slammed the bowl of falafel on the counter – then picked it up to throw the falafel into the garbage.” (I later asked TDH why this was such a big deal. Apparently, according to the expert, heated falafel cannot stand “unwrapped” for long; sogginess ensues.) Naturally, Customer #2 was obviously put off by this, and so he took his money elsewhere – and rightly so.
One would think that the Shawarma Nazi would be thrilled to hear Customer #3’s edit to his order: make that three chicken shawarmas, please! The Shawarma Nazi rolls his eyes as if to call the customer an idiot and nuisance. Naturally, Customer #3 was obviously put off by this, and so he too took his money elsewhere – and rightly so.
If I wasn’t already sweating buckets, I sure was now, as the Shawarma Nazi asked what we wanted on our shawarma (as if we really had a choice). All the fixings, please. (We dare not reject any of the Shawarma Nazi’s toppings.) Extra hot sauce. And thank you. Thank you. He doesn’t yell at us or roll his eyes. We take this as a good sign. We might just get our shawarmas as ordered.
He tallies our bill and reads out the total. I hand over my Interac card. The Shawarma Nazi, rather than open his mouth to speak, points to the sign that reads, “50 cent charge on all Interac transactions.” I nod compliantly. We take our shawarmas and try to make a smooth exit past the starving mob queued down the street.
I can’t imagine the Shawarma Nazi not modelling his style on the Soup Nazi. The similarities are uncanny.
I’m not sure if TDH and I will go back. The shawarma was fairly good, according to the expert.
If you’re interested in trying it out for yourself, just ask me for the name.
Until then, I’ll try to find a cupboard with the recipes.
