Late Night Food Fight: Falafel Corner

It's 1:30 in the morning, and you're hungry. But where do you go? It is a divisive debate among the Harvard student body, and loyalties to the Square's late-night stops run deep. Over an 11 day period, The Crimson will debate 11 popular choices around campus. Now up: Falafel Corner.

Some people may have come to you recently with claims that they know where the best place for a late-night bite is. Some people may have tried to back up these claims with “facts” and “arguments” and “rationale”. Truth be told (for the first time in this series), these people are wrong.  It’s nothing against them or their stupid, wrong opinions, it’s just cold, hard objectivity: Falafel Corner is the only correct choice for twilight fare. If you’ll allow me to be Frank for a moment, I’ll explain.

“Frank, are you implying that those other restaurants suggested by your colleagues are no good?” you ask.

Not at all. I’m just implying that when one levels a critical eye upon them, they fall short of the benchmark set by the bastion of convenient cuisine that is Falafel Corner. I’m a reasonable man. I understand that other establishments serve food in exchange for money, and that it’s probably important for the economy or something. But while those establishments and the mere peons that frequent them may have a place in the world, I am simply suggesting that perhaps we deserve a slightly nicer place.

I mean, if you enjoy the thrill of pitting your appetite in a heated race against the latest rapidly expanding plaque in your arteriosclerotic life, then by all means pay a visit to Domino's or Pizza Ring. If you yearn for the rush of conformity and the dull drone of monotony, then maybe you would indeed be better served at the Kong or Noch’s. If you genuinely hate yourself and wish to be unhappy, well, IHOP is right down the street from where I’m headed.

Now, I’ve heard some “people” complain that Falafel Corner is too far removed from their daily routes to be a viable option. I generally don’t care to respond, because what dialogue can be had between such charlatans and true gentlemen? If a few extra steps are enough to separate you from happiness, then put bluntly, you don’t deserve happiness; you deserve Quincy Grille.

The magical sounding (and tasting) 8½ Eliot St. has everything the human body needs: 100 percent of your daily dietary Vitamin Shawarma, a bit of Mineral Falafel, and a Baba Ghanouj supplement that goes down so smooth you’ll tell those One-A-Days that they’re Done-Today.

Oh, and this culinary epic you’ve run into headlong like a certain parentally challenged, magical teen at platform eight-and-a-half doesn’t just end there. Like any satisfying story, there is an epilogue, and it is sweet. A basboussa that you’ll devour before you can worry whether or not you have the pronunciation correct. Cashew fingers that’ll leave you licking yours until the sun rises. Their baklawa? More like bak-love-of-my-life. All perfect denouements to a rich, rewarding tale of heroics and Middle-Eastern gastronomics.

Look, I’m not telling you everyone else has been wrong thus far; I’m just telling you that I’m much more right. When I find myself hungry and in need of spiritual direction, it will always be Falafel Corner guiding me through the night.