There are not many great sit down arabic restaurants in LA. Maybe in the valley or Glendale, but those are both dead to me.

Some of my favorite Arabic restaurants I loved as a child, which surely none of you will remember, include Al-Amir, who baked their pita bread (or khubz arabiya) from scratch and had a pianist and a belly dancer on Saturday nights. Ha. I said pianist. They were also in the same building where Models, Inc. was filmed and E! Entertainment is now. They closed in 1998.

I also loved Annie’s as a child, an informal mom ‘n’ pop joint in Little Armenia where you could get a traditional arabic breakfast of Ful Muddamas (basically a bowl of beans, but better) on Sundays. Annie would instruct us to get our sodas ourselves out of the fridge in the back. Diet Coke and Sprite. Right next to the Preparation H. Maybe that’s why they’re closed.

One of the last few standing (of my favorites, at least) is Marouch. Marouch is one of those special places I’ve been enjoying with my family since I was God knows how small and cute. The owner, Serge, knows and respects my father and I, as a result, pretty much refuse to take dates there. If I have taken you there, that’s why I didn’t let you touch my leg during dinner.

To drink my mom had lemonade and my Dad and I each had an order or Araq, an anise-flavored alcoholic beverage that tastes like black licorice and puts the likes of tequila, gin, and scotch to shame. If you are not Arabic and you read about Marouch from say, Jonathan Gold, don’t ask for this. They will pretend they don’t know what you’re talking about and offer you beer or wine. Also, you will hate it anyway probably.

Since it was just the three of us and we often over-order, we skipped main courses and just ordered some meza (starters).

hummus:

baba ghanouj (or mtabal):

Special spicy salsa that Bob, our favorite waiter, always makes for us. My parents eat it with the kibbeh nayeh (raw meat—yikes):

Two favorite salads, tabbouleh and fatouch:

(By the way, that’s what tabbouleh should look like. If it’s got a ton of bulgar wheat in it and is equal parts white and green, you may be shopping at Trader Joe’s).

pickled turnips, hot peppers, olives and green onions:

fried kebbeh, which we refer to as “footballs,”–meat fried in cracked wheat.

At this point we would normally just be getting started since rice and meat would be on the way. We quit while we were ahead though, and ordered Arabic coffee to finish the meal. That’s Serge:

He was kind enough to surprise us with one of my favorite desserts, mahalabieh–rice pudding served with pistachios and rose water. you don’t know ’bout this!!!

Bob, if that is his real name, gave my mother some fresh camomile to make at home before bed time so she could sleep better post rotator cuff surgery.

Now that’s hospitality, one of the main things arabs are famous for, not counting terrorism and arranged marriage. See? We’re not so bad!