Chicken Shwarama

Last night we went to eat with some friends at a place called Yashuasha Kabbah, or something like that. My wife announced to me that we'd be going at 3:00 pm, and I became readily concerned with 3 things:

2.) Will it make me sick?
1.) Will I have to wear a turban?
0.) Will my wife have to wear a turban, and if so, can I get a picture?

As it turns out, the answer to all of these question was "no." Yashuasha specializes in Middle Eastern food, and by "specialize" I mean it's owned by 2 Arab men, decorated with hookas, and everything they serve a mixture of Mediterranean/middle eastern food and American dishes, like shrimp scampi. I was a little worried at the prospect. My family's digestive genes aren't known to be too resilient, and while I'm open to trying anything, I couldn't get the scene from "Along came Polly" out of my head where Ben Stiller gets so sick that he eventually winds up in a flooded bathroom wonder whether or not it's unethical to wipe himself with a ferret. Seeing as how we don't own a ferret, or know anyone who does, I gave it a shot, and it was good. Everything went fine! I had the Chicken Shwarama, which we pronounced "Schwarma" despite this being obviously incorrect, and which loosely translated means "Chicken with a side of Shwarama."

At first glance, Shwarama sounds like it might be a little scary. It sounds like something you'd say to someone when they sneezed to keep demons away and that sort of thing. What could it mean? Fried adder? Baked bullions? Lightly salted shotgun shells? Shwarama seems to be rice cooked with a little curry. Added to the chicken with a dash of humus (not to be confused with Hamas or Al Qaeda, which are other middle eastern words) it makes for a thoroughly enjoyable dinner experience.

As it turns out, not a single person in the restaurant during our time their came in wearing a turban, although I hear that around 3:00 am when the cab drivers get off of work, the hookas come off the wall and everybody gets down like it's Ramadan in Abu Dhabi.