No, these are not badly burnt falafel... no culinary disaster here. Rather, for all my writing on flash photography, I rarely use it myself unless there's no alternative; rarely think about using it to positive effect... and then, I realized I could make an exception to this rule using these very tasty and perfectly cooked falafel to sculptural ends as the light bounced strongly back from their silver foil container. The falafel themselves came from Zeina, in Highland Park (a new and excellent source of reasonably priced and very savory food, though we think we'll try and avoid the Friday and Saturday night belly dancers), and arrived in my office courtesy of Alice (or lunch would have been a white and red striped peppermint from the business office): the change of backcloth signifies that yes! I'd managed to shift from my desk to the mottled surface of the conference table at the other end of my room.
Friday, December 4, 2009
flashy lunch (aka Lunch #5)
No, these are not badly burnt falafel... no culinary disaster here. Rather, for all my writing on flash photography, I rarely use it myself unless there's no alternative; rarely think about using it to positive effect... and then, I realized I could make an exception to this rule using these very tasty and perfectly cooked falafel to sculptural ends as the light bounced strongly back from their silver foil container. The falafel themselves came from Zeina, in Highland Park (a new and excellent source of reasonably priced and very savory food, though we think we'll try and avoid the Friday and Saturday night belly dancers), and arrived in my office courtesy of Alice (or lunch would have been a white and red striped peppermint from the business office): the change of backcloth signifies that yes! I'd managed to shift from my desk to the mottled surface of the conference table at the other end of my room.
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Have you ever been to Sahara on Easton Ave? It's currently my favorite place to take my family... partly for the falafel, but mostly because it's the only restaurant my mother will agree to eat at, since they're the only people left in NJ willing to serve her a specialized salad full of bizarre accompaniments that are not on the menu. There's also Efe's, which is a great place to order from in the middle of the night when you discover that the Brower meal you stole earlier in the day might look falafel, but is actually made of mashed up gardenburgers that probably fell into a pan of oil at some point and began to resemble falafel, at which point the chef decided to serve them alongside the stuffed grape leaves.
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Efe's, yes. But Sahara, no... so I'll put it down for my next from-the-office outing. Why is it that I would never have trusted a Brower falafel, anyway? It might well prove to be a cousin of the vegeburger I once ate - or tried to eat- at St John's College, in Santa Fe, and on which I broke a tooth, rather to my (and probably the vegeburger's) surprise.
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