Time ticks by and we start forming lists. Lists of
things to pack. Lists of things to buy. Lists of places we want to see
before we go. Lists of the things we’ll
miss.
Missing things like the melon. Oh my
god! The melon! First, buttery and
savory, with a cool sweet finish. I will have crack-dreams for years over this
melon.
Or missing things like falafel. I’m not sure
I’ll ever be able to eat falafel anywhere else. Or shwarma. Same
thing. They’re simple, delicious and
darn near free. Paying 7 bucks or more back in the US seems obscene.
Out with the Mrs. for a spring evening stroll to
obtain such sandwiches. The start of the dwindling number, I’m sure. Trying to
get our fill.
We came across a new place that had opened a
couple months back. It was bright and clean with decor a step above. And they were cooking something new. It was
like shwarma meat cooked on a large shield-like pan. A little oil, a little
lemon juice, some secret spices. They press some pita down on top of the
stew that’s created sopping up any extra juice then they wrap it all up with
some tomatoes, pickles and hot peppers and squirt on some lemon juice to
finish. Served with fries.
It looked like a shwarma, but different. I
thought I’d give it a try, so I walked up to the counter and picked up the
menu.
“That is all in arabic, but don’t worry, I will
explain to you everything.” said the purveyor.
In near perfect English, he explained that this
was a Turkish sandwich called a Tantuni. He talked a bit about it and how long
they were here. He and all the cooks there were Jordanian, but they had a
Turkish chef who was on holiday.
Chicken or beef, I opted for chicken and placed
my order.
I called Mrs. S.A.M. in from her Pokemon
hunting. He explained the whole process again. She exclaimed, “That looks
amazing, but I’m a vegetarian. That looks like it would be great with tofu!”
The man considers this and tells us that he used
to own an Italian restaurant in Guanzhou, China. He said he never had tofu
until he went there and grew to love it.
“Ah, I will make a vegetarian sandwich for you
that is not on the menu!” And he proceeds to bark out orders to the guy
behind the counter who responded and made some suggestions of his own.
He throws down a pita, smears on some yogurt,
takes some Arugula and tears off only the tender parts. Seriously, at a
fast food street vendor, he tore the stems out of 12-15 individual leaves of
arugula and laid them out strategically for maximum coverage. Some
tomatoes, pickles, etc.
“I love arugula”, he says. “I put it
anywhere I can!”
We told him the sandwich should have a name.
“I don’t know, I guess a rocket sandwich?! Ha ha!”
I offer to pay for the extra creativity, but he
waves me off. “It is my compliments!” and then after we’re sitting
outside he brings out two cold yogurt drinks with froth on top. He called
it Airon(sp?) and said it is a popular dish in Turkey. “You will drink more Airon than water there.”
Sipping our icee cold, spoiled milk, we wondered
together about this man’s story. Here’s a guy with a salad-greens fetish,
speaking perfect English, who’s owned an Italian restaurant in China, now
importing a Turkish sandwich concept to Jordan. How does that happen?
We figured that it must be family that drew him
back. This country is full of people with postponed dreams. Men or women who
went away and did interesting things, but came back to care for mom or dad or
in-laws and work the family business or on the side driving Uber or guiding
tours.
When I started this entry, I was going to say
that people were the other thing I’d miss. Their pride and kindness and stories
like these.
But then I realized there are stories and people
like this everywhere. I could go to the State Fair this summer and find a fried
food vendor and if I stood and listened for long enough, I’d probably find an
equally kind and proud person, who just might give me extra chocolate sauce for
my deep fried twinkie.
No comments:
Post a Comment