Cuisine: Middle Eastern
Really more of a closet than a restaurant, Rainbow Falafel is one of those places that I think has garnered a reputation based solely on its early entry into the falafel market and its relative longevity. I also feel like recommendations and praise are less about the grub and more about the unique oddity of its dinkiness. As if a hole-in-the-wall Middle Eastern eatery is the same as discovering a hidden speakeasy where your favorite rock stars hang out with their super-hot mistresses and the drinks are strong and cheap. Or maybe some omakase joint where the best Japanese chef in the world just so happened to set up shop in an abandoned subway station. Shit ain’t underground — it’s above ground. And it ain’t a secret.
I’m also a little mystified about the name of this place. It doesn’t give rainbows. It doesn’t give light. It always seems to be be ensconced in scaffolding and shadow. The interior of this absolutely minuscule space also doesn’t read sunny. Honestly, if you’ve ever been to one of those Indian chafing dish places on 11th Ave that is like 90% bodega and 10% joint where cab drivers grab some palak paneer on their way out of the tunnel, you’ll get the vibes here. In fact, Rainbow advertises their sandwiches, soups, drinks and… phone cards, candy and cigarettes. That is an intensely weird thing, but not entirely out of character for businesses of a certain vintage. It just doesn’t speak to a focus on the cuisine so much as it says this is how I feed my family, so you will pay me and I will hand you something of temporary value. Food, smokes, whatever.
Now, the city is filled with Middle Eastern cuisine. So many brick and mortar restaurants, trucks, carts and everything in between. While this may not have been the case when Rainbow first opened, it is certainly the case now. I’ve certainly eaten at a bunch of them over the years and I can’t say that my experience here was in the upper echelon of those experiences. The pita kind of melted under the influence of its ingredients and the falafels in my falafel sandwich were both small and a bit overdone. I would say, based on the flavor, that perhaps the grease in the fryer was a little long in the tooth. And while the prices have always been on the more affordable side — imagining the overhead in a 5×5 space that was most definitely not originally meant to hold foodstuffs is low — you pretty much get what you pay for. The sandwich is puny and wrapped in tin foil, and when opened has shrunk in on itself to form a bit of a mushy mess. The flavor, once you get past the aforementioned oil taste, isn’t terrible, but it also isn’t remarkable or special in any way. Or particularly fresh or considered. Tired would be the best adjective. This wasn’t the speakeasy experience you were looking for, but a run-of-the-mill falafel spot that will provide relatively cheap sustenance, but little else.
26 E 17th St. (bet. 5th Ave and Union Sq W)
212/691-8641
