Alas!  On this day, I had no horses, so I was forced to wait at L Street while the four engine behemoth chugged by.  Up pulled a ponytailed hipsterchik on a black cruiser.  And a business suit on a vintage Schwinn.  And a messenger on a fixie.  And a server, avec apron, on a yellow fat tire.  And a beat-up greybeard on a beat-up grey bike.  And by the time the train was done with us, there were eight bicycles waiting to get through the intersection.

Yay, alternatrans!

While zipping along K Street the other day, I noticed a slight but almost cataclysmic change: the True Love Coffeehouse had moved! The sign was still there, but there was another sign on that old white building: Sanad’s Mediterranean Deli. I was, of course, intrigued, since I’ve had to visit the wilds of the Crest Café in order to get my Med on. I added it to my agenda.

Last week, I got the chance to visit. I rolled by 2315 K Street on a Tuesday, exactly one week after they had opened. The inside is clean and spare, although the owner claims that they will be hosting some Second Saturday events and that there will be more artwork on the walls. There is a little bowl of kalamata olives and pickles for appetizers, which was a new one for me. The deli case is full of side orders for you to drool over while you wait for your main plate to be prepared, so watch out.

I struck up a conversation with the chef, who turned out to be the owner, Sanad, a recent arrival from Jordan. The recipes are his, and he prepares most of the food himself. The opening weekend had coincided with Second Saturday in July: “We served 222 people. And we ran out of food on Sunday!”

After eating there, I am not surprised…

A ridiculously small amount of money ($5.99-$7.99) will get you a platter with two sides and some pita bread. I opted for two of these: the falafel (the woman at the counter sucked me in with “it’s my favorite!”) with sides of grape leaves and hummus, and lamb gyro (”He seasons it all himself!”) with sides of tabbouleh and eggplant. Sanad threw in a side of marinated artichokes with feta: “I just made this up today, so let me know if you like it.” I also sampled a few of the desserts, which I will write about in due course.

Falafel: I’m still a little bit unclear about what is involved with falafel, but boy was it good. Three small muffin-looking guys, fried to a deep brown. Crispy outside, soft flavorful inside. Chickpeas, parsley and other stuff.

Grape leaves: To. Die. For. I should have ordered a dozen. Just the right consistency, just the right mint flavor on the inside, mixed with rice and other spices. Wow.

Hummus: Very tasty and not too gummy or grainy or gooey or oily. Rivals the Mad Greek in Baker (Home of the World’s Largest Thermometer.)

Gyro: I watched Sanad slice the lamb off a huge spit, which was pretty darn cool. The meat itself was, as advertised, well-spiced, but a bit dry. It definitely profited from the yogurt sauce that came with it.

Tabbouleh: I have never seen so much parsley in one place. Fresh tomatoes, more mint and some onions rounded it out nicely.

Eggplant: I love eggplant, and this was well done for what it was. Much less spiced than the other dishes, it allowed the real eggplant flavor to come out. This could be a positive or a negative, depending on your relationship with the vegetable of Purple Passion.

Artichokes: Yum, yum, yum. Not over-marinated, and not too salty. Definitely worth keeping on the menu.

And then, the desserts. There were three, of which I recognized only the baklava. The first was a bar-type thing, composed mostly of honey and coconut. It was overpoweringly sweet, and I bet Winnie the Pooh would love it. I, however, could only handle a bite before I had to instruct my islets of Langerhans to ramp up insulin production. The second was a little Pirouette-shaped item, more cookie-like and less honeyed. The powerhouse of the three, however, was the baklava.

So much baklava is of the Greek persuasion: Way too sweet and sticky. This one was, apparently, more southern Mediterranean: just the right amount of sweet combined with flaky—kinda like the Sarah Jessica Parker character in “L.A. Story.” It may also have contained pistachio nuts? Maybe? The filling has a greenish cast, but don’t let that deter you, as it is the best baklava you will find in Sacramento.

This was an all-round excellent dining experience. Although I got the food for carry-out, there is an extensive covered back patio, which I’m guessing hops on a weekend. And, it was easy on the pocketbook, as I got out at just about twenty bucks. The food is fantastic, and it’s obviously a labor of love. We’ll see how they fit in with the True Love crowd (as I waited, two couples came in asking, “What happened to the True Love?” Answer: it’s moved upstairs.) but they’ve already started carving out a niche: Another couple walked in, announced that they’d been there on Saturday, and were back for more.

I can’t recommend Sanad’s highly enough. When you go there, just cross your fingers they haven’t run out of food.

If I turn on the A/C, I’m using extra power from the grid and contributing to global warming.
If I use the  whole-house fan, I’m  bringing cancer-causing microparticles into the house and killing my family while we sleep.

If I eat lunch at my desk, I’m feeling those calories sink into my body and contribute to heart disease.
If I go for a run at lunch, I’m feeling those carcinogens sink into my body and contribute to lung disease.

What is an environmentally-conscious exercise-prone Sacramentan to do?

As if Midtown’s “17 MPH” signs at the roundabouts weren’t enough, the speed limit on the  new concrete:  “15 1/2 MPH.”

The sign is a circle, with one half painted orange and one half painted green. They invariably show up in the vicinity of things that seem flood-controlish: near the railroad gates at 19^th & C. Near the gates at Del Paso under 160. At various points along various levees.

Does anyone have any idea which agency is responsible for these pictograms, and what exactly they signify? Or are they omens and portents of the coming apocalypse, a la the Low Men in Yellow Coats?

If you follow that spur down, you’ll notice the ties getting a little more crooked, like this was the end of a job and the workers just wanted to get it done. You’ll see a bunch of railroad supplies lying in piles just as the turn arrives, and you’ll also see increasing amounts of trash.

As you finish the easy turn, you’ll see a tunnel under I-5, with a warehouse framed at the other side of the darkness. If you’ll go through the tunnel, it’s all trash, and you may think about picking your steps carefully on the off chance you step in something squishy.

Then you’re out, at the corner of 1st Avenue and 3rd Streets in a huge industrial warehouse complex where the tracks don’t really end; they just get subsumed under asphalt.

Another remnant of railroad culture gone by. That spur was still important when they built I-5 over it nigh on 40 years ago; it’s nothing now.

Sometimes this whole We-have-the-second-most-trees-behind-Paris thing is overrated.  On days like today, I think we should donate some of them to Yuba City.

Yesterday, however, I met my match at Gaylord Indian Buffet. I met a friend at 14th and O around 11:45 to beat the rush, and there was just another foursome in the restaurant. We picked a table close to the eight steaming chafing dishes, and did not even bother sitting down or letting the waiter finish his, “Would you like the buffet, or should I bring you a me…” “Buffet!!” We picked up plates and began our gustatory experience.

Plate 1:

Rice with coriander and peas. Simple, and I made sure…

not to take too much. Who wants to load up on rice, despite its newly acquired status as a luxury good?

Chicken in a creamy, spicy orange sauce. I ladled this on my rice. It was delicious.

Tandoori Chicken: I grabbed a thigh, and since I was not in a bar, I did not get slapped (or if in the Pine Cove, a phone number). Instead, I was rewarded with a pungently flavorful yumminess.

Creamed Spinach with Farmer’s cheese: This barely qualified as a vegetable, it was so rich. Cubes of cheese among the green.

Potatoes, carrots, peas in yet another sauce: I dipped a lot of naan into this.

Chana Masala, aka chickpeafest: Not too spicy, yet not too boring. Another naan magnet.

Vegetable fritter.: Looked like some squash and maybe potato. Made with an unidentifiable spice.

Chickpea dumpling with yogurt: A little dry for my tastes, but the yogurt took care of that minor quibble.

The talk was free-flowing, and the meal disappeared rather rapidly.

We removed our chicken bones, and headed back. Our plates were so clean, we just reused them.

Plate 2:

More rice. More creamy chicken. More creamed spinach. More vegetables. More chickpeas. Antoher fritter. Naan, naan, naan. I passed on the second round of Tandoori, just so I wouldn’t feel like I was overindulging.

I made it through everything except about four bites of the creamy chicken, and then I took a little rest. Three minutes of water and conversation, and I finished up.

For those of you who are gluttons, there’s also a selection of desserts, but I’ve always found the Indian honey-laden confections to be too rich for my blood.

We said our goodbyes, and I began walking across Capitol Park back to my office. Halfway across the park, I had to stop and lean against a post for a bit whilst watching some tie-clad bocci players and a lone hackysacker. I would have asked if I could join the hack, but all my blood was being diverted to my stomach for digestion—I was barely able to walk, much less pull off The Jester.

I cannot recall the last time I was so full, and so full of good food. $12.50 may seem expensive for a Sacramento buffet, but if you’re looking for quantity and quality, Gaylord is the place.

Cash money, ripe for the taking.

If you’re on foot, take a right onto the dirt paths and try not to step on the wildflowers.  Bask in the sun reflecting off the river, and wonder what the rusted-out metal structure is, towering over that weird dip with all the shards of glass scattered about.

The rest you can discover for yourself–I wouldn’t want to give away all the surprises.