Since moving to Chicago, Empanada Boy has remarked on the surprising lack of good falafel stands, at least compared to those he enjoyed as a student in New York City. While it’s true that Chicago has almost nothing in the way of stands, the falafel at Al-Khayameih is exceptional. It has a perfect, crisp shell and an interior that’s soft and not too heavy. I ordered a plate of it, accompanied by bright, vibrant stuffed grape leaves, tahini and yogurt sauce. The pita was also fresh and warm from the oven at the bakery and grocery next door.

A vegetarian could go wild at Al-Khayameih, but in many ways, this place is about the meat. The menu includes everything from kababs to kibbie to roasted cornish game hens and seafood. Still yearning for the stands of his New York days, Empanada Boy ordered the shwarma (shawarma, chwarma, shuarma, etc.) platter. It came with a massive pile of lemon-drenched meat (probably goat or lamb) cut straight off the skewer turning in the open kitchen. There was also rice, tahini and a traditional salad of lightly dressed cucumber, tomato, parsley and onion. There was enough food for three people on that plate!

We ate until we could eat no more, except, of course, dessert. After paying the bill, we went to the bakery next door. Along with some pita and a few other Middle Eastern items, we chose two baklava from among the numerous shapes and sizes available in the case. These were coated in crunchy pistachio, and their honeyed, flaky layers melted in my mouth like the mass of butter they were undoubtedly made with. After a great meal, the question of how to spell the restaurant’s name is rendered unimportant. Al-Khayameih by any other name would taste just as good.

Al-Khayameih
4748 N. Kedzie Ave.
Chicago, IL 60625
773.583.0888

Wine Note: Al-Khayameih is BYOB. Try bringing a fruity red wine from Southern France or the 2005 Massaya “Classic,” from Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley.

Three of the eight or ten tables in the dark and somewhat dingy room were filled with men talking, smoking and alternately watching the basketball game and what appeared to be Al-Jazeera news, which was playing on another, large screen TV. All heads turned briefly when we walked in, but then went back to their business when we sat down at a sunken leather booth.

The waitress, who was the only woman in the room, seemed glad to see us when she came to bring us menus. I asked if we were allowed to drink alcohol in the restaurant, and she said no. She later offered to bring us plastic cups to drink the beer we had brought with us, but not wanting to upset any of the other customers, I said we were fine with water.

We started off well with an order of baba ghanouj (see photo above). It arrived speckled with paprika and cupping a pool of olive oil. The tahini and lemon juice flavors were bright and vibrant, but I wanted a little more smoky depth from the eggplant. The accompanying basket of pita was warm and toasted straight off the grill.

Empanada Boy ordered schwarma, which came with soup and a salad. The potato soup in a tomato based broth was nicely spiced with cumin, but the salad was a dismal failure. Wilted pieces of iceberg lettuce were topped with sad, under ripe tomatoes an clumsily cut, thick slices of partially peeled cucumbers. Neither EB nor I felt an urge to touch that one. The schwarma itself was too dry and lacked the fattiness that usually gives this meat flavor. It improved to some degree when eaten with the buttery rice and when sauced with some of the tahini that came with my dish.

I opted to sample Mataam Al-Mataam’s falafel, or “falafil” as they spell it. I got a large plate with six balls. They were nicely spiced with coriander, cumin and parsley, and their breadiness was brightened by the addition of the tahini. EB says he prefers them crispier, and I think I agree. In order to achieve that, the balls need to be smaller with a greater surface area to volume ratio. The major downfall of this dish was another tragic “salad” that came on the side. I picked out the tomatoes to add a little acidity to my falafel, but I wouldn’t go near the lettuce.

All things considered, I enjoyed the cultural experience of dining at Mataam Al-Mataam far more than I enjoyed the food. The waitress described the food as homemade, but to me, it tasted dry and kind of thrown together. Fresh produce would vastly improve some of the dishes we tried. Tragically, fresh produce is not to be found in war-torn Iraq. But it would not be less authentic if the cooks here stopped in at the grocery store just across the street.

Mataam Al-Mataam
3200 W Lawrence Ave
Chicago, IL 60625
773.463.0600