But even though many people profess to love Middle Eastern food, the cuisine remains sorely misunderstood in the West. It's bad enough that many restaurants and delis in the U.S. serve underspiced versions of the original dishes. What's even worse is that the most vibrant foods of the Middle East remain practically unknown this side of the Mediterranean.

Having grown up in Beirut, I've tended to mistrust Middle Eastern restaurants in the States. I'm constantly reminding friends that there's more to the cuisine than falafel and grilled lamb. But I finally decided it was time to stop complaining and see if some of New York's Middle Eastern restaurants could stand up to scrutiny. I wish I'd done it sooner. During my journey through the boroughs, I discovered that many of the Middle East's most memorable dishes - and the ones least-known in the U.S. - appear on the menus of several restaurants in the city, and that they're often made with care, spunk and authenticity.

BROOKLYN

Waterfalls Cafe

I started my tour at the Waterfalls Cafe, a restaurant that opened about a year ago on Atlantic Avenue in Cobble Hill, an area known for its Middle Eastern markets and eateries. Waterfalls claims to serve Syrian cuisine, but that distinction can be dicey. The people of the Levant - i.e., Lebanese, Syrians, Jordanians, Palestinians and Israelis - all take credit for inventing the same dishes, and I won't attempt to sort out which belong to whom.

When I visited Waterfalls the first time, it was a cold and rainy day, so I needed some warm soup. Luckily, the restaurant serves kibbe bilabnieh ($6.45), one of my favorite dishes and an especially hard-to-find item on Middle Eastern menus in the U.S. Oval-shaped meatballs made of ground lamb and bulghur swim in a warm broth of mint- and garlic-spiked yogurt. Waterfalls handles it beautifully: The yogurt's cooling qualities offset the rich, meaty kibbe. Just as a litmus test, I also ordered a side of tabbouleh ($3). Most Americans know it as a bulghur-based salad containing specks of parsley, but the proportions should skew in the opposite direction: loads of parsley, plus tomatoes and onions and only a hint of bulghur. When coated in the right dressing - lemon, olive oil and mint - the salad has a sharp, tangy flavor and an ultramoist texture. Waterfalls's supremely green, fresh-tasting tabbouleh passed the test.

But here's what really sold me on the restaurant: When I ordered a cup of Arabic coffee with my lunch, the waiter objected. "No, you'll have coffee later," he said. "I'll make you a strawberry-banana drink." A smoothie?, I thought. What an incongruous choice. Then I made the connection: In Beirut and Damascus, sidewalk vendors sell a ridiculously sweet concoction of fruits, nuts and syrup called khoshaf. Waterfalls's beverage ($2.50), though really just a fruit shake, had a ring of authenticity. It provided the perfect counterpoint to Waterfalls's hearty, generously flavored cuisine.