Zooroona redefines good service

(Audience: the Index)

It might seem that a waiter is overcompensating for mediocre food or dull ambiance when he sweet-talks his customers before they order and praises the establishment like it’s a refuge from college cafeterias and Chinese take-out. Or maybe his dramatizations are the only ways he knows how to convey a most sincere admiration for his place of work.

It’s the latter in the case of Zooroona, a ten-minute walk from Kalamazoo College’s campus, located up the hill on West Main.

The waiter, a part-time college student who could double as a professional salesman, argues that Zooroona offers the best Middle Eastern food in the state. Then he changes his mind: it’s the best in the United States. No, that’s not good enough either. It’s better than the food in Middle Eastern countries themselves, he says.

But it isn’t just the food that gives this waiter the confidence to boast. He says anything that looks like an antique is actually an antique. That’s a bold statement, considering that almost every piece of tarnished furniture and stained-glass-covered lantern has the potential to fool the average college kid who’s not aspiring to a career as an art historian. (Forget the part where he mutters that the Moroccan chairs are purchased from World Market a few miles away.)

The restaurant begs its visitors to perceive the antiquity of its décor as different from that of places like Applebee’s (which the waiter was quick to criticize) that give the allusion of antiquity with its faded prints and vintage posters. There’s no denying that Zooroona, with its hanging bejeweled lamps and tabletop candlelight, offers a serene and romantic setting that is unparalleled in Kalamazoo.

Everything about Zooroona appeals to the senses, not excluding the cuisine. Appetizers run from $6 to $8, while the aklaat, or dinner entrees, run from $12 to $22. It’s a relatively cheap ticket abroad for the Kalamazoo College-employed student earning $7.40 an hour.

At Zooroona, two or three hours worth of pay is well spent—for the most part.

The daily shorba, or soup, has a distinct Moroccan taste that differs from Middle Eastern flavors made famous by Iran, Lebanon, Syria, and Turkey. The deep red, spicy, tomato-based soup with cubes of lamb and beef was a delicious alternative to the safer choice: a lemony, Arabian-spiced lentil soup that was fresh and light despite its cream-based appearance.

A Syrian baba ghannouj made of charbroiled eggplant and served with thin slices of mazza, or pita, was a rustic interpretation of Zooroona’s creamy hummus; its visible eggplant fibers begged for the blended and smooth texture of the latter. The kibbeh mikliyah, a fried football-shaped appetizer made with a spiced lamb and beef filling surrounded by a fried meat and bulgur shell, offered a balance between the two meats that the baghdad kabob failed to accomplish as a main entrée.

The cucumber sauce is a cool and fresh-tasting sidekick to spicy jumbo shrimp that is marinated to perfection. Disregard the occasional pecks of black that coat the outside—it only enhances the flavor. But the baghdad kabob isn’t a promising second-place contender with a toughness that’s sure to work your hand and mouth muscles. A trip to the gym isn’t necessary. The saffron rice that rests in between the two is a necessary barricade, and it’s clear which half wins this battle.

The prize for the most aesthetically pleasing dish goes to the tawook, tender white cubes of chicken served with grilled vegetables and saffron rice. It puts the baghdad kabob to shame with a juicy interior that doesn’t put the jaw muscles to work. But the shawermah, thin slices of seasoned lamb and beef cooked on a vertical rotisserie, does little to make up for the baghdad kebob, both of which are overcooked.

The waiter has one more exaggeration to contribute, though initially hard to believe upon discovering that Zooroona doesn’t offer the best Middle Eastern food in the world. “People’s hands shake because it’s so amazing,” he says referencing Zooroona’s surprisingly neglected date cake.


It’s a dessert with little curb appeal but with a taste that makes it easy to believe the waiter when he says that it frequently elicits verses of sweet poetry from Western Michigan University students written on the walls by the restrooms. Great things come in small packages—or more specifically, a two-by-four-inch spiced square with a warm interior, topped with homemade whipped cream and slices of sweet chewy date. Only the greatest of friends would be willing to share with each other.

The same can’t be said about an ambitious rice pudding, created by a culinary-torch-happy chef who unsuccessfully imitates the caramelized sugar topping of crème brulee. Stick to one or the other, please.

Zooroona accomplishes a lot in the modest space it occupies. And what is a waiter if not a restaurant’s most important advocate. Never mind the hyperboles, as long as they are somewhat justified. At Zooroona, they certainly are.