Crossing the green line
Samira
Al. Niepodleglosci 213
Telephone 620-9518
Hours: Monday-Friday: 9 a.m.-9 p.m.
Saturday: 10 a.m.-9 p.m.
Sunday: Noon-8 p.m.
Credit cards not accepted
Reservations accepted
Sometimes the best things in life are those that are the hardest to achieve: a perfect hot scone; a crisp-skinned leg of roast pork and a feather-light sponge cake as good as my mum's.
Or what about finding Samira restaurant?
The first time I went in search of Samira eight months ago, I thought I was going to die. Not because of the Lebanese food they serve which is superb but rather because of the location.
Samira, which salubriously promotes itself as an "oriental vegetarian snack bar," has a rather high-profile sounding address on Aleje Niepodleglosci. Don't be deceived: Although Samira actually shares the same street number as Warsaw's national library, this restaurant, which has the dimensions of an espresso cup, actually sits behind this great, grey concrete edifice.
And the only way to get there is down a potholed dirt track, surrounded by scrubby bush. It's a bit like a pocket of the Appalachian Mountains in downtown Warsaw, complete with a broken-down wooden shack. Was that Jon Voight and Burt Reynolds I spied?
I'm told that Warsaw's first international airport was in the area in the 1920s before moving to its current location at Okecie. Today, it's full of grease monkeys, big trucks, and swarms of taxi drivers. Huddled in one corner is a rather unattractive tin shed with a covered outdoor area, plastic furniture and twinkling party lights. This is Samira.
The owners, a Lebanese man and a Polish woman who communicate with each other in German, opened Samira two years ago. Since then, to those in the know, it has earned the reputation of serving Warsaw's best Lebanese "fast" food at bargain prices.
Don't go expecting belly dancers, cloth napkins and sparkling candlelit settings. This place is seriously down market: Formica tables, plastic chairs, smokers rubbing shoulders with non-smokers while the high-pitched warble of Arabic music plays on the radio. In summer, it's much more convivial when you can sit outdoors at Formica tables with plastic chairs and warbling Arabic music!
But the people who come here every day and jostle for space, do so because they love the food.
Samira operates like a bistro: There are menus on the counter or you can order from the hand written Polish menus on the wall, paying as you go. Behind the counter, it's a hive of activity: The schwarma rotates slowly, roasting the chicken meat, while in a glass counter there are stacks of homemade falafel, samosas and little fried vegetable pancakes called bacura. The hard-working staff are busy making up plates and kebabs for their hungry lunchtime customers a mix of businessmen and women, students and Warsaw cabbies that always know the best places for budget-priced, quality food.
Michael started his meal with a glass of ajran a warm, salted, garlic-flavored yoghurt drink that is not for the faint hearted.
"Try this," he said. I sipped it and nearly fainted.
Will's syrupy sweet pot of "herbata orient" tea, served from an aluminium pot and sipped from delicate little glasses with a gold rim, was much nicer.
The menu offers individual servings of delicacies such as deep-fried cauliflower; babaganoush, a wonderfully garlicky, smoked eggplant dip; falafel or fava bean patties; and lamb kefta, a spiced meatball and vegetable baked dish. Or you can also order mixed plates the option we went for.
Michael ordered the "polmisek wegetarianski" (or vegetarian mixed plate) and Will, the "kebab grilowany z humusem i salatka" (grilled kebab with hummus and salad). I chose the "polmisek orientalny" a gigantic combo of almost everything on the menu.
"How can people eat this much for lunch, and then go back to the office," I asked my companions? The conversation quickly turned to the benefits of tax-deductible liposuction surgery for restaurant reviewers, because with food this good, it's hard to resist eating.
My plate had two falafel, a skewered kebab, one samosa, two dolmades, grilled chicken, rice, two bacura pancakes, some pickled turnip, hummus, tzatziki made using homemade yoghurt, and of course, cabbage! We also ordered some fresh pita bread.
The falafel was crisp on the outside, and light and fluffy inside. The samosas, well, they were just damn fine. The dolmades scrumptious, the chicken tasty, the bacura made according to the chef's own secret recipe yummy. The kebab was delightfully lemony and the hummus, fabulous. Michael's plate had all the vegetarian options that were on mine.
"Have you tried these? I have no idea what they are, but they're the best. They taste like a curry dumpling," said Michael as he held aloft on his fork something that we later discovered was a bacura.
Will was just as happy with his kebab four hand-shaped spiced minced lamb sausages served with plenty of hummus, flat bread and salad.
"That hummus is very good," said Will for the third time. His only complaint was that one of his kebabs was slightly undercooked.
To work off our lunch, we walked to the Samira shop, which sits just five meters away from the restaurant. This little store probably stocks Warsaw's most comprehensive supply of Middle Eastern goodies beautiful, fresh kalamata olives that are worth the trip to Samira alone. Fresh yoghurt, Lebanese pastries, cardamom, coriander seeds, tinned everything from hummus to babaganoush and okra, tahini, Indian curry powders, burgul for your own home-made tabbouleh and even "Brylcreem" just don't make the mistake of putting that on your chicken couscous served with roasted pine nuts, raisins and parsley!
With a shopping bag each, we waddled to our taxi and back to the office for a rather slow afternoon.
Lunch for three came to zl. 83 ($20).
On the menu:
The oriental mixed plate zl. 27
The vegetarian mixed plate zl. 23
Grilled kebabs with hummus and salad zl. 22
"Herbata Orient" tea (per pot) zl. 6
Ajran savory yoghurt drink zl. 2 - zl. 4
