Long, long ago, Jake finished half of my leftover kibbi burger. He’s been nagging me ever since for another taste.

Last week, on the way to Emily’s Lebanese Deli, I stopped by Surdyk’s. Every time I stop at Surdyk’s, I unintentionally arrive during their giant wine sales. At 2 p.m. on a Friday afternoon, the parking lot was a chaotic mess. Am I a bad person for gravitating towards wine with pretty labels?

Surdyk’s also had a plethora of tables sampling at least five bottles of wine, each. Every time I approach an alcohol sampling table at any place of business, I am either ignored or looked at peculiarly when I ask for a taste.

It could have to do with the fact that I look like I’m 12.

Strange experience 
A few Sundays ago, I also had another strange experience. I joined my friend to visit a church close to our homes. What leveled me was that amongst the eclectic spiritual traditions of sage smudging, Jesus-less communion, Buddhist meditation, and pre-service hymn-sing from a hymnal ranging from The Beatles to protest songs, the congregation reacted with stern disapproval when a man earnestly requested “Taking It to the Limit.”

The Eagles were too much. Just too much. There was just no room for them at this table.

But you came here for the food right?

Emily’s Lebanese Deli
641 NE University Ave
Minneapolis, MN 55413
612-379-4069
emilyslebanesedeli.com

The kibbi sandwich, $6.25, came with a half-pint of lemony tabouli and stack of flat bread quarters. In comparison to other tabouli I’ve eaten, Emily’s is strikingly lemony, if a bit soggy. The baked kibbi is dense and tastes of onion, cumin and cinnamon. The special Lebanese bread called mistah is sweet and soft, yet firm enough to support the kibbi and ripe slices of tomato.

I always buy a container of garlic dressing for kibbi/flat bread-dunking. Emily’s dressing is thinner and less pungent than other versions of garlic sauce from Shish, St. Paul Flatbread, or Beirut. However, the dressing is still creamy, lemony tart, and addictive. On one hand, I miss the pungent garlic bite, but on the other, I don’t mind the fact that I feel I can still eat the dressing right before class.

What I mean is that I could still literally eat the more pungent versions before class, but like most people, I want to be liked. And by liked, I mean not avoided or winced at by others sharing a small, enclosed space for three hours.

I would like to end by saying that there is always room for The Eagles at my table.