In South Seattle’s Hillman City neighborhood, on the corner of
Rainier Avenue South and South Graham Street, there’s a Mexican grocery
with dusty piñatas dangling limply from the ceiling.
Going west on Graham you pass the African braiding salon with one
fat goldfish seemingly suspended in the viscous green water. After a
dry cleaner with a busy drive-up window, you come to Mawadda Cafe,
where Iraqi-born Rami Al-Jebori will be frying falafel, skewering meat,
and talking to his customers as they eat.
Set in a bland strip mall that’s strangely typical of the diverse
neighborhood, Mawadda doesn’t offer much in the way of traditional
ambience. The bright interior holds just a few booths and tables, and
decoration is limited to a small wire shelving system that holds cans
of fava beans and hummus, and packets of spices for falafel. A
refrigerator hums in the corner, keeping its mango lassis,
guava nectars, and Diet Cokes safe from the heat of the nearby
kitchen.
What the place lacks in decor, however, it makes up for in welcome.
On my first visit, Rami offers me samples of four of his homemade
sauces to help me decide which I’d like on my salad. Unfortunately, the
tasting only makes my choice more difficult. The first is an earthy
hummus, rich and nutty, with a strangely pleasant chalky feel on the
tongue. It’s followed by a spoonful of Rami’s garlic sauce, which he
says he concocted for his daughter; it’s spicy, pungent, and creamy.
It’s also laced with so much garlic that I taste it all afternoon. The
tzatziki, on the other hand, has the ideal proportions of garlic and
refreshing cucumber; it’s some of the best I’ve had anywhere. Last is
pomegranate vinaigrette, which tastes like candy and would be delicious
over ice cream. I choose the tzatziki.
All Mawadda’s food is cooked to order by Rami, so it takes some
time. I’m not in a hurry, so I pour myself a cup of spicy, sugary chai
($1) from the dispenser and sit down in one of the booths to watch the
traffic go by on the street. After about 20 minutes, my Sultani platter
($11.99) arrives. Three kebabs loll on a bed of fragrant, steaming
rice. The best by far is the chicken, marinated in a blend of 25
spices. The resulting matrix of flavors is alternately sweet and
piquant, and leaves me wanting more. Assertive chunks of lamb overwhelm
their seasoning, but go down very nicely when dunked in the rich garlic
sauce. The third kebab is minced beef and lamb with some onion that
Rami shapes with his hands around a steel sword and then grills over
the fire. I coat it with the remains of my tzatziki and eat the whole
thing in about 10 seconds.
On another visit, I try Mawadda’s chicken shawarma ($7.99) at Rami’s
urging. I am slightly disappointed, as the turmeric seems to elbow the
other spices out of the way. It’s tasty, but I miss the complexity of
the kebab’s seasoning. The gyros ($4.99) are another matter. With
tender, perfectly cooked seasoned lamb shaved from a vertical roaster,
creamy tzatziki, and a few crisp tomatoes tossed in for good measure,
it’s a sumptuous, messy delight.
As I consider the menu, Rami laughs. “I make the best falafel in
Washington. You should try some.” After devouring the falafel salad
($6.99), I’m a believer. It’s crispy but not greasy, dense but not
heavy, and dry but not dusty. With a little (I know, I know) tzatziki
(have I mentioned how good it is?), the falafel salad just may be the
perfect vegetarian meal.
In Arabic, mawadda means the love that comes with
friendship. During the few hours I spend in his restaurant, Rami talks
to me about his three kids, his cooking, and his struggles to make
Mawadda a success. It hasn’t been easy, he says, working 14-hour days
and barely breaking even. He’s even considering calling it quits, which
is a shame because Mawadda serves some of the best Mediterranean food
I’ve had in the city. So here is my plea to you devotees of falafel,
adorers of shawarma, and fans of roasted, rotating, seasoned lamb:
Venture down to Hillman City, look past the strip malls, turn right
near the Mexican grocery, and walk into Mawadda Cafe. Wherever you’re
coming from, you’ll feel right at home. 