Is this the best falafel in Europe?

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I came to Paris for a falafel sandwich. Of all the reasons to come to Paris, right? But this particular sandwich comes highly recommended. “My favorite food in Paris,” is how Natalie Portman describes it. Rocker Lenny Kravitz is a fan. Vanessa Paradis too. According to an American newspaper, The ace of Fallafel (“The Falafel Ace”) at 34 Rue des Rosiers in the Jewish quarter of Le Marais, where you can find this sandwich, is he destination, not only in Paris but in Europe.

Originating in the Middle East, falafel has become a delicious and accessible (in terms of price and dietary restrictions) staple around the world. L’As du Fallafel was opened in 1979 by a French-Israeli couple who moved to Paris from Israel. Here you can dine inside, at tightly packed tables, and order from a more extensive menu that includes merguez sausages, schnitzels, grilled chicken, and shawarma. Or stand in line outside, place your order at the till, and hand your voucher to the guys working the window before eating your sandwich on the street.

No cabbage. It’s not a texture that makes sense on a falafel sandwich. And the fries? Horrible.

This raises an important question: what is the best way to consume a falafel sandwich? “It’s street food,” says the London-based Palestinian chef. Sami Tamimi he insists. “You shouldn’t be sitting.” His favourite places in London include Hiba Street near Tottenham Court Road, Beit El Zaytoun in Park Royal, and Mr. Falafel at New Shepherd’s Bush Market. “Standing up, yes,” explains Franco-Palestinian chef Fadi Kattan of Akub in West London“But not just walking around. Falafel sandwiches are not something you eat innocently while window shopping. You have to be able to enjoy that pleasure to the fullest. That means eating it right there in front of that shop.” In London, you can find it on the street Mayyil in Notting Hill or elsewhere After in his hometown of Bethlehem.

When I arrive at L’As du Fallafel at lunchtime on a Thursday, there is a modest queue. On weekends, the queue gets significantly longer. There are other falafel shops in the area, including King Falafel Palace and the original Paris branch of the Israeli chain MissCustomers may be tempted to skip the wait at L’As du Fallafel and visit one of these locations. But the online consensus warns against this, as does L’As du Fallafel’s motto: “Toujours imitaté, jamais égalé.“Often copied, never equaled.

What makes the best falafel sandwich? It all starts with the falafel. They should be fried, not baked (“They’re a mess in the oven,” Kattan says); they should be crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. They’re typically made with dried chickpeas with garlic and herbs, but there are also versions made with fava beans. These Egyptian-style falafel might be called ta’ameya. Other versions use a combination of chickpeas and fava beans. Falafel by Dunja Gulin (Ryland Peters & Small, £14.99) includes chickpea fritters, as well as sweet potato, mushroom and tofu fritters, though many would dismiss them as “vegetarian fritters”. Baking soda is a regular feature. Sesame seeds are an optional addition that add extra crunch.

Toppings are a matter of personal taste. “The ideal sandwich has tahini, pickles, onions and falafel,” says Kattan. “People add chopped cucumber and tomatoes. I don’t. I think the liquid ruins the crunchiness of the falafel. If you want a little more decadence, add a dollop of hummus. But that’s about it. No cabbage. It’s not a texture that makes sense in a falafel sandwich. And the fries? Horrible.” Imad Alarnab of Imad’s Syrian cuisine Similarly, she despairs at the multitude of options that have become popular: “We never had avocado in the Middle East. And what do you need fried eggplant for? Too many.”

But is that so? L’As du Fallafel’s “special falafel” costs €10. It consists of a thick, warm pita bread filled with sesame falafel, salted cucumber, hummus and tahini and, yes, pickled red and white cabbage and fried eggplant. “You want it spicy,” the man says, not so much a question as a recommendation as he pours harissa sauce and hands me the bulging paper packet and extra napkins.

Having eaten enough bad falafels, I know this is something special. Hot, crispy fritters, crunchy, tangy salad, lashings of sauce and sweet, soft eggplant. Standing in a nearby doorway, I come up with a plan of attack. It’s not simple. “There’s no way to approach a falafel sandwich without it being a mess,” Kattan explains. I don’t know? Chin thrust forward, fingers dripping, shirt and pants at perpetual risk of splatter, pavement in the process of Jackson Pollocking sauce splatters and pigeons hunting for dislodged salad. It’s a mess. And it’s worth it.

@ajesh34