Just Falafel
Cuisine: Fast Food.
Specialty: Falafel.
Location: Saker Bin Zayed Al Falahi Building, Hamdan Street, Abu Dhabi.
Price: 12 dhs (~$3.50) for a falafel in saj bread. 13-17 dhs for gourmet varieties.
Every country or region needs its fast food staple. In the Middle East, it’s the falafel wrap. It’s not quite the most flavorful of foods, but it meets the basic requirements of good fast food: starchy, greasy, and filling.
The falafel, though, has for a long time been screaming for a modern update. Whereas in America even mass producers innovate, testing out ever-changing burgers with all types of meats, sauces, and toppings, almost nobody in the Middle East even dares to attempt any innovation with the iconic falafel.
That is the main draw of Just Falafel, a shop which attempts to elevate the falafel to new heights, casting it in a variety of different ethnic roles. Every sandwich in the shop takes its inspiration from a different country, using what Just Falafel considers to be typical ingredients from that country. The standard, of course, is the Lebanese, packed with pickled cucumbers, pickled turnips, shredded parsley and mint, tomato, and tahina sauce.
But then Just Falafel gets a little more inventive with flavors like the Mexican (tomato, lettuce, pickled cucumbers, pickles, cheese, avocado dressing, and tomato dressing), Italian (ciabatta, mozzarella, tomato sauce, pesto sauce, and fresh basil), and even the American Burger (burger bun, tomato, lettuce, pickled cucumbers, mayo, cheese and cocktail sauce).
It sounds a bit gimmicky, of course. It’s hard to consider any sandwich made with mashed chickpeas a real “burger,” and I highly doubt the epitome of Mexican sandwich/burrito culture is pickles, cheese, and avocado dressing. The selection of nearly 10 varieties, though, is a welcome addition to the stale falafel scene, and I had to see if it paid off.
The results are somewhat mixed. While the “gourmet,” or innovative flavors may taste betterthan the baseline, that’s not really saying much, given how low that baseline is. The ingredient list in the Lebanese sounds impressive, but don’t be fooled: It’s a very simple sandwich, revolving almost entirely around two components: the falafel and the tahini. In fact, while I got some nice crunch out of the pickles and turnips, I tasted almost none of those ingredients—a big problem, given the utter blandness of the falafels. The overly strong, muddy flavor of the tahina does nothing to add the needed flavor.
More positively, the falafel is cooked nicely, crunching deliciously as you bite into it. Moreover, the saj bread—basically a thick tortilla—has a slight char, done with a Panini press. Score: 1.7/5.0
The Japanese Falafel (White Bread, Avocado, Falafel, Wasabi Mayo, White Onion, Tomato, Sesame Seeds, Sweet Chili Sauce) thankfully kicks up the flavor a couple notches. The falafel remains bland as ever, yet here it doesn’t take center stage. Instead, you get a bite of the creamy, rich mayo tempering the crunchiness of the sandwich. The chili sauce then adds in an intense, delicious sweetness. Just as you think that the sweetness of the chili sauce and richness of the mayo are becoming too much, however, the spice kicks in for a refreshing aftertaste. The interesting crunch of actual sesame seeds and the fresh tomato add a couple extra touches of balance. Still, as good as the combination is, the sandwich and its sweet chili sauce become one-dimensional very quickly. That chili sauce, then, is both the sandwich’s greatest strength and weakness. Score: 2.9/5.0
Oddly enough, Just Falafel combos its Middle Eastern sandwich with a peculiarly Western side, French Fries. It’s an odd choice, but who can really complain about a good set of fries? Unfortunately, there is a lot to complain about here.
On seeing the fries, I really wanted to like them. They come golden, without any brown or burning. They crackle as you bite in, and they have just the right amount of potato. While they feel greasy, it never reaches the cloying level of the typical fast food experience.
Where these fries go wrong, however, is in the salt, sprinkled on so heavily that it not only covers up the oily and starchy flavors, but leaves you at times cringing. Nor do the packets of Hellman’s “real” ketchup help with their overly sweet, but light flavor. Score: 2.5/5.0
All in all, a pretty mediocre meal. And the price? A gourmet sandwich at Just Falafel will set you back around $4-$5 and will leave you very hungry. A premium might be fair for healthier dining (though “healthier” is a relative term), but a typical falafel in the city shouldn’t set you back more than $2, and it will probably be just as good, if not better.
Just Falafel may be convenient (it delivers), and it may be unique, but it’s certainly not going to set off any new trends with its poor quality. Take a pass and stick to the classic falafel on the street.
Scores
Taste: 2.4/5.0
Value: 2.0/5.0
Overall: 2.2+/5.0









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