Let’s talk Yataganese

I don’t give a tinker’s dam who you are, if you come to New York City and fail to avail yourself of the best value in falafel sandwich the world has ever known, I will show my disapproval by spanking the loved one of your choice with a weapon from the list below.*

Yatagan, a sweatbox on MacDougal Street just off Bleeker Street, is THE $2 falafel place. It was $2 in 1982 and it is still $2. The nearest competitor, just up MacDougal toward Washington Square, weighs in at $2.50. Anywhere else in town, you are gonna pay $3.50 to $5.

Yatagan, which as near as I can tell never closes, also offers a full compliment of other Greeky fare … gyros, baba ganoush, hummus, etc.

If you’re still not sold, how about this: Bill Cosby is also a fan (his picture hangs on the wall if you dare to go into the “dining area”, five tables at the back of the joint heated to a steady grease-smeared 100 degrees year around).

Or, this: You get to watch sweaty little men (seriously, they are really short) peel slices of dripping mushmeat off a rotating spit.

Or this: You will be connecting to a long and steady history of beats, bohemians, Bob Dylanites and beggars who have marched through on their way to oblivion.

Personally, it’s the fried chickpea sandwiches that keep me coming back.

*Spanking implements list: a retro slogan t-shirt striped off the back of a Williamsburg hipster, a dirty 99-cent store fork, a sliderule, four standard playing cards taped together, a partially inflated bicycle innertube, a peanut-butter filled latex glove, or Wally (This one requires an appointment. He’s a busy guy.).