Taza

"To practice five things under all circumstances constitutes perfect virtue; these five are gravity, generosity of soul, sincerity, earnestness, and kindness." - Confucius

Before The Loop Lunch Club's most recent meeting I didn't believe that any man had the moral capacity and strength of heart to embody Perfect Virtue. However, after dining at Taza at 176 N Franklin and meeting The Proprietor I've discovered a newfound faith in my fellow man. The Mediterranean grill was Steve "Just a little late" Lake's choice as The LLC2's tenth meeting site and will forever be remembered as the workplace of the most virtuous service professional we've encountered in months.

Mr. Moore places an order

Taza is directly adjacent to defending LLC Champion Perry's Deli, and like its neighbor has signs discouraging cell phone usage and advising patrons to "pull hard" on the door. I typically increase the strength with which I pull until a door opens or I tire out and, to protect my masculine ego, decide it must be locked before moving on with my life. having also met at Goodwin's just across the street The LLC is literally eating away at this block of Franklin. With two more options within range of a Tim Tebow Hail Mary (and three within a Manning throw) I'm sure we'll back for more.

Luckily for me the door was wedged open allowing easy, non ego threatening access to the restaurant. My first impression of Taza wasn't promising. The sparsely decorated walls were painted a light green color that I lauded in my review of Pollito's for cultivating a festive atmosphere but seemed out of place at Taza. Perhaps I was put off by the small bug I spied scurrying across the tile. Nobody's to blame for the bug's presence seeing as the door needed to be open to allow much needed airflow and no creature, man or bug, can resist the siren's call of fresh falafel. Despite the atmosphere I had a good feeling about the food. Taza is first and foremost a carryout spot, though the dining area can accomodate a fair amount of grizzed loop lunch veterans who know how to handle tight spaces.

The bite that solidified my
decision to order much more of these

My first contact with The Proprietor preceded the arrival of The LLC. This was a man with an accent as thick as his beard, a man who I would soon discover possessed all of Confucius's Big 5 in his eyebrows alone. Sensing my hunger and intuitively understanding the lateness to which The LLC has become accustomed the saintly figure handed me a sample falafel.

Beating the lunch rush by crucial minutes The Loop Lunch Club formed a line (a Taza Strip, if you will) at the counter and Lake sagely recommended the turkey shawarma. "The hummus is among us," mumbled return guest Eric Moore, who would go on to surprise me with a series of pretty good jokes at the table. As I was ordering, a tardy Dan Spira, Esquire, cut ahead of the long line of honest citizens in the fashion of a ruthless attorney hell-bent on spreading misery to the lives of normal people. Lawyers...am I right?

This is the point where I stop writing to watch this clip from The LLC's unofficial sponsor The Voice:
Some people want it all, others just want lunch.

"I can't decide how to go about eating this," said Jenny Sammarco, displaying an understandable mix of confusion and nerves. Making her LLC debut at a place with no clear cut silverware application technique isn't an enviable position, much like being an NBA rookie center asked to defend the league's best big men in the playoffs. We can't all be Asik.

An incredibly tasty meal. I wonder if Rob Anderson would call it the best falafel he's ever had...

The Proprietor would return to
stack them even higher

Looking at an empty bowl of lentil soup Lake announced, "I can't eat any more lentil soup." It turns out he wasn't just out of soup, but was also "ridiculously full." At this point The Proprietor returned with a basket of falafel and explained his policy of delivering one falafel every five minutes. He went on to point out I'd been there nearly an hour and thus he felt a need to keep 'em coming. "Very, very, very hot!" He warned of the falafel that, much like him, appeared crunchy on the outside but was incredibly warm, earnest, and sincere on the inside.

Shoveling the hot falafel down my gullet I heard my name called out and looked up to see the familiar face of Glencoe, Illinois baseball legend Luke Sundheim. Sundheim quickly and deservingly mocked me for being underdressed and went on his way. Normally I'd be mad, but I'll forever be in debt to him for his generous strike zone during the 1997 house league baseball playoffs. "Strike three!" He yelled across the diamond following a ball that was clearly high and inside. This left all three opposing base-runners to hang their heads in shame as my teammates mobbed me on the mound. We would go on to lose the next game.

As The LLC rose to leave, already more than satisfied, The Proprietor stopped us for one more exhibition of generosity. Baklava appeared on the table as if from nothingness. The Proprietor kindly said, with sincerity, earnestness, and the utmost gravity, "We'd love to see you here again." It would be perfectly virtuous of us to return.

Flaky, crunchy, chewy, sweet, and it travels well. Now that's what I call Baklava.

Taza Notes:

• Absence of Rob Anderson
• Really cool old school punch clock for employees
• Zero Mentions of Rubenstein and Dan Ofman this week.