• A night at the Yemen Café

    I HAVE heard people express doubts about the Yemen Café. It looks unwelcoming, they say, dark and a little dingy. Yemeni men huddle over bone-littered tables, chattering at full volume, their faces just inches apart. I can, in fact, confirm that this is among the most dangerous restaurants in Brooklyn. Not because of the voluble and friendly clientele, nor the food - the bathrooms are clean, a sure sign of a clean kitchen - but because of a more serious danger well known to anyone who has ever travelled in Muslim or Arab countries: extreme, almost antic, hospitality.

    The first time I ate here was with five other diners. It was a Friday, the restaurant was packed, and we were the only non-Yemeni table. We ordered enough food for a small army, but they kept bringing more, unordered and uncharged. We said we liked the roast lamb, and the owner - a jolly, balding, moustachioed man who looks like he has caused the demise of many a flock himself - brought out another plate and watched us eat it. We heaped praise on the oven-fresh, crackling pita: out came a small tower. After the meal, he followed us out into the street to shake hands and pointed us toward the subway, two blocks away (as it happens, two of us, including me, were local and two others had just moved out of the area). I fasted for the next day and a half.

    The Yemen Café is one of three Yemeni restaurants among a good dozen or so Arab restaurants, bakeries and groceries towards the western end of Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn. The neighbourhood has long been Arab, though traditionally the Arabs have been mostly Syrian and Lebanese Christian, with Muslims and Yemenis more recent arrivals. A grocery store called Sahadi's has anchored the block since 1948. The Damascus Bakery next door celebrated its 70th birthday last year.  read more »


    COMMENTS: 0 |