June 14th, 2025

My neighbor Hala and I have a great thing going between us. I’ve made cakes for her and her family for celebrations, taught her how to make four different Thanksgiving pies, and have been the friend to provide a listening ear. She’s fed me and my family homemade garlicky hummus, spiced barbecue chicken and lamb, manekeesh (Lebanese flatbread topped with nutty, rich za’atar and tangy keshek), herby tabouli, smoky baba ghanoush, laban ummo (simmered lamb in homemade yogurt), and too many other interesting dishes to list. If we are just comparing our culinary exchanges, I think I’ve gotten the better end of the bargain.            

Hala loves barbecue. She’s from Lebanon, a culture influenced by Mediterranean and Middle Eastern culinary traditions. When I asked her to describe Lebanese food in a few words, she said, “bold and spiced barbecue”. Naturally, she and her husband were the first people on our list when Grant and I thought about trying Wah Jee Wah, a casual Indian barbecue place in Hayward where giant racks of meat are roasted in a large outdoor barbecue pit. I’ve seen a lot of reviews raving about this place.      

Right after they said yes, we received a text from our friends Ben and Mina inviting us to go eat at Mensho Ramen in Oakland at the same time we were planning to eat at Wah Jee Wah. We’ve had both couples over for brunch at our house before so we invited Ben and Mina to join us for Indian barbecue. They said they would love to join.

Grant called the restaurant to make a reservation. He was worried about driving our neighbors all the way to Hayward without one, but the woman who picked up his call simply said, “Sure,” when he requested reservations for six adults at 6 pm.

“Don’t you want to take my name?” Grant asked.            

“Fine,“ she said.

Grant laughed at the absurdity of the conversation. I smiled. As I thought, a place with a giant McDonald’s-style billboard for a menu doesn’t care about reservations. 

A little before 6 pm, we drove up to a weathered beaten sign of “Wah Jee Wah”. We almost missed it because the letters were faded and it shared a parking lot with a pizza place (Rayo Pizza) that we later learned also belonged to the same owner. If it wasn’t for Ben standing in the parking lot studying the menu, we would’ve turned into the neighborhood behind the restaurant.

We wasted no time in letting the waitress know our order: a big boy platter that contained almost all their skewers (paneer tikka, chicken tikka, lamb, chicken leg, and shrimp), two orders of aloo tikka chaat, two orders of masala mac, an order of butter chicken, an order of coastal fish curry, an order of chole bhature, rice, butter and garlic naan.  I saw a drink I’ve never had before, masala lime, and asked what that was.      

“Ohh, that’s my favorite!” the waitress said.  “It’s so refreshing!”

Her words led us to ordering four masala lime drinks (though we’d later regret ordering so many.) Grant and Khoder did not jump on the bandwagon and both ordered mango lassis.      

A covered outdoor patio offered seating, but we opted for a table indoors that was separate from the pizza place. It was a small and quiet space with an abandoned bar. During our meal, I think the other guests assumed we booked a private room for ourselves so nobody else sat in the room with us. It was actually quite nice.

Our server did not speak much English. She was a timid, young Latina woman who came over carrying all of our drinks on a tray. Mina and I were the first to take a sip of the masala lime and unexpected disgust came over our faces at the same time. The drink was not what was described to us. It was far from refreshing. It was flat and had that sulfur taste you find in a bad boiled egg. Everyone took a sip and agreed that we should’ve just ordered one to try before we bought four separate cups.       

It was unanimous: the drinks had to be returned or at least exchanged for something we could all stomach. I volunteered to be the one to deliver the news to the waitress. When I told her that none of us liked her recommended drink, it was as if I had insulted her family with profane words.

“Why don’t you like it?” she asked sadly.

I wanted to be honest but I couldn’t bear to hurt her more with the truth. I simply told her the taste was too “different” for all of us. She said we could exchange them for cups of Sprite. Although I haven’t had a Sprite in over 20 years, I would rather drink that than a masala lime any day. Maybe the carbonation in the masala lime had gone flat or maybe somebody didn’t mix it right that day? All I can say is it didn’t taste good when we got it.

After the Sprite, food started coming to our table quickly and in abundance. The aloo tikka chaat was tangy and slightly acidic. Our luck with anything with the word “masala” was not good. The masala mac was flavorless and we couldn’t taste any spices or seasoning in it. 

On the other hand, the naan was warm and delicious with the spicy chole bhature (chickpea curry). That was probably my favorite dish of the night. The butter chicken was rich and comforting.

Our server brought a long cutting board loaded with the skewers. The meat was cooked in fragrant spice blends and the server placed the board in the middle of our table. They were all good – except for the shrimp. The shrimp were dried and tiny, and any juicy moisture that had been in them had been extracted completely from their time in the pit.      

The fish curry came in two parts. The whole fish was beautifully wrapped and cooked in banana leaves and vibrant spices and the curry was in a separate bowl. There were a lot of bones on the fish, which made it hard to eat. Otherwise, I would’ve devoured more of it. The herby goodness in the fish blended beautifully with the spicy curry.

But I’d say the most fun part of the night was having a meal with great friends. It was a feast filled with laughter, hilarious stories, advice about our adult children, and updates on recent travel adventures.

Hala was not blown away by Indian barbecue. She still thinks Lebanese food is better (and I don’t blame her for thinking that after that masala lime we had). At the end of the night, Khoder said, “Thank you so much. This is the kindest thing anybody has done for us. Taking us out on a triple date and allowing time to talk was so special. I’ll never forget it.”

It made me happy to hear that, especially since Khoder has been worried sick about his family in Lebanon and the things happening there. It also made me think that we all should be eating meals like this together more. It’s something that brings so much joy, especially when the world seems so broken.