Sultan's Market - does that look red to you?

When life hands you Sizzlenuts and Toupee, go to Sultan’s Market (2057 W North Ave). That’s what Chittlins and I did last night and your favorite gastronomes could not be more pleased. I always know we’re starting off on the right foot when the evening begins with Chittlins wondering whether he has come down with yet another STD. (If there was a conclusion to this line of self-reflection I am unaware). The evening may not have filled my heart like last week but at least this time it filled my belly.

Last night we were joined by two of Chittlins’ friends, both with obscure connections to our host. The plot of our evening was quite simple, two friends are joined by other friends, have food, have drinks, talk about women that exist, talk about women that don’t exist, part ways. To my surprise, those are all the ingredients you need for endless Boston-accent jokes and a realization that Boston-accent jokes never get old.

I’m sure there are a lot of other really good things on the menu but there is really very little reason to stray from the falafel sandwich as your choice of main. Their tag line, not mine, “If its not our falafel, is freakin’ awful”. Fortunately, they are much better at frying chickpeas than they are at rhyming.

For appetizers, the four of us split some spinach pies, baba ghanooj, and zatter bread; one of two reasons to bring friends along to Sultan’s, the other being you’ll need someone to get up and refill the yogurt dip and hot sauce. Baba ghanooj tasted better when it was spelled babaganoush. This one was a bit too creamy and made you forget that it was made of eggplant. Pureed eggplant should taste like pureed eggplant, and that’s not a matter of opinion. Also, I can forgive the lackluster taste of the actual pita since I’m only paying $3.25 for the meal, but I cannot forgive the user-unfriendly trash bins that force me to shove garbage through a pinhole, let alone a restaurant that makes me clean up after myself. This germaphobe was not pleased.

The best part of the food is also the worst part. I ate my falafel sandwich so fast I skipped the climax altogether, going straight from ordering to denouement to clean up. Somewhere in between I remember trying desperately to keep everything together lest it breakapart. The sog spread too quickly.

We couldn’t just let the evening come to end there. The three of us followed Toupee to Rodan (1530 N Milwaukee Ave); the blue mood lighting and low-profile cubist couches had me reaching for my wallet but I was pleasantly surprised to see PBR on the menu. My favorite part of Rodan (really my favorite part of any lounge) was the Windows Media Player-like Visualization projected onto a giant screen. Its sort of like you’re at a rave, but wait, then you realize you can order a maki roll and get a half priced bottle of sake (Wednesday night special). Rave Sushi. I wish I had thought of that. I better watch myself here or this will turn into a lounge review.

As the holidays quickly approach, make Sultan’s Market a priority destination. Nothing says Christmas like Tabboule and Jerusalem Salad.