Shawarma struggles

A long-suffering Ottawa transplant does the unthinkable and tries to find the aluminum-foiled lining of Toronto shawarma.

“Why is the shawarma in Toronto so bad?”

It’s the question on the lips of every member of Toronto’s Ottawan community, a community that numbers in the tens of thousands yet remains overlooked, underrepresented and, in certain instances, outright despised. We’re marginalized for our traditions, like making it to the Eastern Conference finals roughly once every decade. For our superior winter driving skills. For our barely passable French. For our far superior Montreal-style bagels.

Like a Canadian living in the United States, to be an Ottawan in Toronto is to blend in 95% of the time. We keep our heads down and go about our careers and social lives with the sort of quiet competence and sexy level-headedness that are the hallmarks of those who’ve fled the bureaucratic idyll of the national capital because they dreamed of something bigger for themselves. We let our coworkers’ snide comments about there being “nothing to do” in Ottawa roll off our backs, comforted by the knowledge that they will never experience the agrarian splendour of the Experimental Farm, nor the dizzying highs of a day spent deep in the microfiche at the Library and Archives. Most importantly, they will never get to enjoy an Ottawa shawarma after a few pints at Chez Lucien.

O shawarma! My shawarma! Your slow-roasted meats, your purple-pickled majesties, your garlic-breathed burps. Staple of strip malls from Strandherd to St. Laurent, your harsh lighting luring late-night lushes and lunch-time labourers alike. I remember my first shawarma, from long-gone La Shish on Clyde Avenue (now the location of Ottawa Shawarma), purchased during a spare period in high school. The garlic overwhelmed my palate at first before giving way to a trance-like reverie that I’ve never fully awaken from.

A perfect Ottawa shawarma from Al Mouna.

It would be the first of hundreds, from the likes of Shawarma Palace (the Rideau and Carling locations in particular), Three Brothers, Shawarma Prince, Garlic King and the newest and arguably best of the bunch, Al Mouna. A great number of those shawarma were consumed while living altogether too close to Bank Street’s Shawarma King—certainly not the finest shawarma in Ottawa, but reliable enough to have kept me coming back on the way to my overnight shifts at Postmedia, a job that eventually drove me out of the city and into the warm and welcoming embrace of Toronto.

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The central contradiction of life as an Ottawan in Toronto is that you can easily find exceptional food from pretty much any cuisine on Earth except for good Lebanese shawarma. You can even get Kettlemans bagels (my beef with them over a poorly considered Instagram post in support of the Leafs notwithstanding), and Eastern Ontario’s Farm Boy has become the darling of the grocery store world (they also make an acceptable toum), but still: not a lot of good shawarma. For years I’ve tried to parse why this is the case—it’s not like there’s no Lebanese community here, and certainly no shortage of shawarma spots nor revellers in search of a quick hit of fat, salt and grease. Yet shawarma after shawarma filled with substandard chicken and watery garlic sauce hasn’t brought me much closer to understanding the problem.

I can advance one theory. It’s called the Shawarma Feedback Loop: the quality of the shawarma is directly tied to the rate of turnover. If meat sits around on a spit to long, it dries out, leading to bad shawarma, or worse, shawarma that gets shaved off and set aside for future use; bad shawarma begets fewer customers begets slower turnover begets worse shawarma. The inverse is also true, of course. More customers means more turnover means better shawarma means more customers. When shawarma occupies a prime position in the takeout hierarchy, as it does in Ottawa, Montreal or Detroit/Windsor, you’ll get better shawarma all around because that’s what diners are seeking out. When shawarma is a minor character in a scene filled with jerk chicken, roti, and all the other greasy meals with a longer tradition of excellence in Toronto, it’s being set up to fail.

After bitching about my shawarma experiences for as long as I’ve lived in this city, trading my frustrations with other Ottawan ex-pats in whispers and encrypted group chats so as to not attract the baleful stares of ignorant, unhyphenated Torontonians, I set out to do something about it. I went out to find good Toronto shawarma.

What we’re talking about when we’re talking about shawarma

Before we go any further, some first principles.

1. Shawarma is an Arabic term for meat roasted on a vertical spit and then shaved off in slices—usually chicken, beef or lamb, as there’s not a lot of pork being consumed in the part of the world where shawarma comes from. It is similar to donër, the Turkish term for meat roasted on a vertical spit, which itself is a subset of kebab, which is any roasted meat. In the West, kebab usually refers to meat that roasted on a horizontal skewer. (Donair is a specific Atlantic Canadian creation: spiced beef on a spit, shaved thin, served on a pita with tomato, onion and a sauce made of sweetened condensed milk and garlic. You either love it or you hate it.)

2. As alluded to above, the shawarma in Ottawa is a product of the Lebanese community, whose roots go way, way back to the early 1900s. Paul Anka, Ottawa’s favourite son before Tom Green started humping moose, is but one member of the community. 2% of the population of Ottawa is of Lebanese extraction, the largest such percentage of any city in Canada, although there are more Lebanese-Canadians in Montreal and significant pockets exist in Halifax, London, Windsor and, of course, Toronto.

3. Lebanese shawarma, at least as it is practised in Canada, is chicken, beef or both (“mixed”… it’s a complex lexicon we’re working with here), served either as a platter or in a pita with a handful of indispensable toppings: toum—a fluffy sauce made of garlic, salt, lemon juice and olive oil—hummus, pickled turnip (the pink/purple things), pickled cucumber (“pickles”), tomato, lettuce and onion. Many places will add tabbouleh, hot peppers or cabbage to the mix, and give you the option of hot sauce or tahini. When served in a wrap, the completed pita is placed on a panini press for a short while. My go-to order is a chicken wrap, “everything with a bit of hot sauce.”

4. Pretty much every shawarma spot in existence offers a combo or “trio”: a shawarma wrap, garlic potatoes (ideally slathered in toum) and a drink. For reasons pertaining to my health and my breath, this experiment does not consider the trio—we are focused strictly on the chicken shawarma wrap. The quality of garlic potatoes in Toronto typically ranges from “tolerable” to “abysmal”, so I’m also saving myself from guaranteed frustration.

5. For this experiment, I am dealing with Lebanese shawarma spots from the City of Toronto. By design, this excludes a few notable restaurants from the GTA, including the Paramount chain (Lebanese, but started in Mississauga, and perfectly OK for what it is but not good enough to hack it in Ottawa, plus the location on Spadina became a Mary Brown’s), Flaming Stove (Palestinian, served on saj, a thinner, unleavened bread vs. pita; Flaming Stove makes a delicious but fundamentally different sandwich), Shawarma Empire (also Palestinian), Aleppo Kebab (Syrian), Sumac (Iraqi), Alpha’s (another saj-based wrap) and a range of other chains I won’t deign to consider, including Tahini’s (London, gimmicky and meh) to Osmow’s (Egyptian and bleh).

6. Toronto chain Ali Baba’s, recently rebranded in many instances to Al Jood, is also excluded from this because their shawarma is ass, and also, I could never determine if they were Lebanese, or Syrian, or what have you. Their falafel is reliable, depending on which location you go to, and the two-for-one falafel special on Tuesdays has been a hallmark of my eating schedule for more than a decade.

7. I am judging each shawarma on a secret blend of criteria including but not limited to:

   1. Quality/consistency of the toum

   2. What’s up with the chicken

   3. Construction

   4. Toppings, especially the pickled components

8. For reasons of practicality, I’ve narrowed this taste test to six different self-identified Lebanese shawarma spots, all of which do the classic pita-based variety of shawarma, came well-reviewed on Google and, in a few instances, were recommended to me personally over the years or by the freaks on Reddit. These spots are:

   1. Falafel World, Bloor + Jane (4.6 on Google Reviews)

   2. Lebanon Express, College + Dufferin (4.8)

   3. Ghadir Meat + Restaurant, Lawrence + Pharmacy (4.4)

   4. Lebanese Garden, College + Borden (4.8)

   5. Ghazale, College + Grace (4.9)

   6. Habibi Shawarma, King + Dufferin (4.5)

Let’s get to the shawarma.

Falafel World

Falafel World is the shawarma spot that inspired this whole post. A fixture of Bloor West Village since the 1970s, Falafel World first caught my eye because it’s across the street from my ophthalmologist’s office (shout out Vista Eye Centre), and because it has incredible signage. A few respectable individuals had recommended it to me for the falafel, but I figured that any self-respecting Lebanese takeout joint with that kind of heritage should be able to make an adequate shawarma as well. So, after a recent lunch-hour appointment, the fates finally aligned for me to give it a go.

10/10 sign game

Any Ottawan in Toronto will recognize the sinking feeling that comes from the most unforgivable of shawarma sins: the shawarma drawer. By this I mean chicken that has been pre-shaved off the spit and then unceremoniously heaped into a drawer, where it’s kept warm for God knows how long before being plunked on a flat top to be reheated—a telltale sign of a negative shawarma feedback loop in action. It’s the difference between a pizza straight from the oven and one left under a heat lamp all afternoon, and it’s an immediate “do not order shawarma here again” for me. Sadly, this was the case at Falafel World—and it would not be the last instance of shawarma drawer in this field study.

Otherwise, we had a decent product on our hands: the rest of the toppings were fresh and served in a significant quantity; the sauces all balanced nicely; construction, simply flawless. Perhaps it’s on me for not ordering the falafel from a place called Falafel World. I look forward to trying the namesake dish, but I cannot in good conscience recommend the shawarma.

Significant topping quality almost makes up for the shawarma drawer. Almost.

Lebanon Express

I’ll spare you the philosophizing. This was the worst of the bunch. More drawer. No pickles, but the pickled turnips were plentiful. Too much hummus, otherwise fairly bland. How this shawarma spot ended up with a 4.8 on Google Reviews is beyond me, and further evidence to support my theory that you can’t trust anything over 4.7 any more. Perhaps the shawarma standard in Toronto is just so low that anything edible served in a pita will net you a five-star review these days.

Forgettable.

Ghadir Meat + Restaurant

Toronto shawarmaheads talk a big game about Ghadir, one of the heavyweights of Lawrence East, a stretch that’s also home to Sumac, Aleppo and Shawarma Empire, along with the accurately named Lebanese Bakery and a slew of other Middle Eastern businesses. Stepping into this butcher shop/bakery/grocery store/fish counter/shawarma spot feels chaotic in a way that suggests it’s worth the hassle of driving halfway across Toronto: activity buzzing behind a maze of counters, staff tending to ovens, spits and friers while a dozen or so customers fidget as they await their orders. The near non-stop shawarma shaving going on at the three spits indicates a brisk turnover of both the chicken and the beef, suggesting you are in store for some Good Shawarma.

What stood out most to me about the chicken at Ghadir was the strong—but not overpowering—allspice note to it that balanced out the tangier pickled and garlic elements of the wrap. The toum, hummus and other toppings did what they need to. Overall, it made for a richer depth of flavour than any other shawarma under consideration here. I didn’t think I would be able to admit this, but it is the one shawarma I’ve had in Toronto that wouldn’t be out of place in Ottawa.

Some serious spit action undertaken by the shawarmen at Ghadir. Great wrap. Exceptional manakeesh.

If I’m fishing for criticisms, I’d say the chicken was a bit drier than I would have liked, or I could point to the fact that their combo comes with frozen french fries instead of garlic potatoes. Tsk tsk. By my own rules, that evidence is inadmissible. Plus, the fresh manakeesh more than makes up for it, reminding me of the pies from my beloved La Shish. Ghadir’s is a quality shawarma—not without its faults—that Torontonians should be looking to for guidance in these trying times.

Lebanese Garden

Lebanese Garden has the distinct advantage of being located about 200 metres from my office in Kensington Market, meaning I had already been here more than all the other shawarma spots combined. And for good reason: Lebanese Garden is home to what are in my estimation the best garlic potatoes and toum in Toronto. Even when a Toronto shawarma spot is capable of putting together a decent wrap, they’re unlikely to nail the most essential side dish on the menu. Too soggy, no toum, undercooked, overseasoned, you name it, I’ve eaten it and I’ve been underwhelmed by it. A good garlic potato in this city is like having a friend in the city with a pickup truck—you don’t need it that often, but when you do, you need it—and that reliable friend for me is Lebanese Garden. Crispy and garlicky, (as one would expect) always tender through the middle; these potatoes are worth ordering by the platter.

Those potatoes... that baklava...

Likewise excellent at Lebanese Garden: the fattoush salad, the falafel, the tabbouleh, the baklava—massive, pistachio-studded triangles of the stuff, but deceptively light, almost like a croissant—and the hospitality (spot the free tea in the photos above!). I had tried the shish taouk (chicken on a skewer) here as well and been satisfied by it, if not blown away. I don’t recall ordering the shawarma from Lebanese Garden, probably out of fear of being let down by a place I’ve come to love on its own terms.

After trying it, I’m relieved to report they are firmly in the upper half of the shawarma spots under review. For one, they really load you up on chicken for the wrap without compromising on the construction. The chicken is heavily marinated in a way that many Ottawans may struggle with; personally, I enjoyed it, even if it didn’t hit the same notes that you’d get from a Shawarma Palace or Al Mouna. In my notes, I also have “not garlicky enough and pickles underwhelm”, which are minor quibbles. Lebanese Garden makes a good shawarma, but the real highlights are found elsewhere on the menu.

Ghazale

Ghazale was most familiar to me as a post-bar spot in the Annex, a staple of my first year in Toronto that nonetheless never made a huge impression on me, for better or for worse. It was a warm meat sandwich with flavourful sauce, and at its most elemental level, that’s all you really need from a shawarma at that hour.

The original Annex location has since closed, but there are now four other locations. I went with the highest-rated one, on College Street right next to the Fish Store (a certified Mikey Likey institution). Despite there being an active spit, this location defaulted to the shawarma drawer. I suspect the heavy marinade on the chicken was to make up for the lack of freshness, as the chicken was on the drier side. Where Ghazale shines is the toum, and they know this, because they’ll sell it to you by tubful. Where things fall apart is the construction—this was one of the sloppiest shawarma wraps I’ve ever encountered, resulting in a mess at the bottom of the pita that left the last fifth of the shawarma more or less inedible.

But that’s fine. Ghazale is acceptable drunk food, and that's beautiful in it’s own little way. Just not in the way that satisfies my Ottawa shawarma itch.

Great toum. Mediocre shawarma.

Habibi Shawarma

Prior to this experiment, I had walked by Habibi Shawarma dozens of times. It’s close to my apartment here in beautiful, law-abiding Parkdale, and the 504 King Streetcar’s cruel habit of short-turning at King and Dufferin has resulted in me being deposited at this intersection with nothing but two feet and a heartbeat far more often than I would like. I had never tried Habibi until this past month partly because of my innate distrust of Toronto shawarma, and partly because the place is barely ever open—just Monday to Friday, 11:30 to 7:00. How a prototypical late-night food like shawarma can keep them in business during such civilized hours was beyond me.

The answer to that question seems is that they make a pretty darn good shawarma. Freshly carved off the spit, the chicken is juicy without veering into the sogginess you get from the shawarma drawer. A crack of tang from the pickles and an airy toum tie everything together, all served with impeccable craft. Habibi Shawarma was the most pleasant surprise of this whole project, and mere metres from my front door. I will be back.

The unalloyed beauty of a well-used spit.

One additional garlicky chicken Lebanese wrap for consideration

It’s emphatically not a shawarma, but the shish taouk wrap from Daymi, also in beautiful, chaos-free Parkdale, comes awfully close to Ottawa-calibre nonetheless. The toum levels are off the charts, the pickles provide a satisfying snap, and the chicken is pleasantly tender if a tiny bit bland. Daymi gets the Mikey Likey Seal of Satisfaction for providing me with my garlic fix when I’ve been away from the homeland for too long.

See? Taouk. Not shawarma.

Cheers of the lunar cycle

It’s a zombie from Rhum Corner! What Toronto lacks in top-shelf Lebanese shawarma it makes up for in cocktails that will knock you on your ass. This one features five different rums and absinthe, and was split three ways as part of a messy evening. As delicious as it is dangerous. Cheers!