The best thing about NYC might be that you’re always discovering new parts to it. Just by getting on the subway you become Indiana Jones… if food and booze were ancient artifacts.

My adventurous friend Dave Carp was back in town from Boulder, CO with an adventurer’s beard, shaggy adventurized hair and adventure-proof flannel. He wanted to do some adventuring. We got a group of food-hunters, strapped on our worn brown fedoras and headed where all good adventurers go in search of foreign mystery and intrigue: Astoria, Queens.

Specifically, a block stretch of Steinway street known as little Morocco. Between the Arabic grocery stores, dozens of hookah shops and endless kebaberies lay a great treasure for the taking…

TESTICLES!

Not just any testicles. The illusive famed testicles of Kebab Cafe, foretold to us by the great mystical prophet Anthony Bourdain!

That’s right! We were going into the Kitchen of Doom to take on the most dangerous offal this side of the Nile. Brains, heart, neck, stomach, hoof, balls… and if we didn’t finish our plates Ali El Sayed, the chef, owner and witch-doctor, would have eternal claim to those very same body parts in our bodies! It was a dangerous gamble, but one we had to take if we wanted to get to be not hungry and also defeat the Nazi war machine.

The six of us were lucky enough to find a table in this tiny 10-seat hole in the wall. We asked for Ali’s recommendations and he proceeded to weave us a tale of his taste buds so specific and passionate that we pretty much ordered everything on the menu. Oh, this witch-doctor had quite the silver tongue. He will be a formidable opponent indeed.

First came the home-made humus, baba ganoush and falafel garnished with apples. Wow. This place is no joke. The falafel ovals were amazing, less fried and fresher tasting than anywhere I’ve had before. This one was easy, on to the next challenge.

Then came the artichoke hearts sauteed with peppers and mushrooms, with a side of tzug (middle eastern hot pepper sauce). Oh I get it, you crazy damned evil genius! You’re trying to lull us into complacence with delicious appetizers. WELL WE’RE NOT GOING TO FALL FOR IT!

Ali is smiling to himself in the kitchen devising something nefarious for us- when here it comes… lamb cheek patte’ mixed with poached egg. FUCK. Ok, I’m ready. Take a deep breath, fork a bite and in it goes.

WHOA. That’s delicious. Moist and gooey, it’s like the best corned beef hash & eggs I’ve ever tasted.

Ok, I’m ready for you now you devilish pharoah! What’s next?

Lamb sweetbreads (that’s stomach, throat and pancreas) sauteed with onions, peppers and a secret blend of house made spices. Ali brings them directly from the kitchen in his pan and slides them on a plate for us to share. We all look at each other, cross our hearts and attack!

SWEETBREADS ARE DONE. Tender, flavorful and a little smoky. Not an iota of gaminess or stringy texture as I was afraid. The penitent man shall pass!

At this point I’m feeling pretty proud of myself. I’ve eaten some weird stuff and I really enjoyed it. Sooooo… now can I eat something normal? Ali obliges and prepares rice balls stuffed with dates, smothered in a house made lamb ragu sauce. Holy crap, this man is in fact a genius. It’s my favorite dish of the meal. I’ll be a doddering old fool telling my grandchildren about it’s magnificence one day and they’ll just respond by yelling to their mother “Grampa’s dementia is acting up again!” But it was real! I swear it was real.

Now that I’m through the 2nd act plot twist, and Ali, my former enemy, is now my friend we must combine forces and fight the ultimate challenge!!!

Lightly breaded lamb brains in a rich, dark gravy drop on our table and my will is tested. I can turn back now and just go to my tenured job as a professor of pizza and burgers at AmericaRULZ University. Ali shouts from the kitchen “MAKE IT INTO A SANDWICH WITH THE TOASTED PITA BREAD!!” I quickly fold a gravied patty of fried brain into some bread and scarf it down. Just in time! Quick thinking new friend!

I’ve done it, I’ve conquered the Kitchen of Doom! I’ve learned lessons, garnered riches, made new friends and almost all of us got out alive. (Shanon choked on a lamb shank). Let’s get the check and go home friends…

And then I hear it. A slow rumbling. I turn around and I see something rolling towards me from the kitchen. What could be rolling like that???

It’s Balls.

They’re picking up speed. The rumbling in my stomach is getting louder. These lamb balls are enormous! They’ll kill us all! RUNNNNNN!!!

I DON’T THINK I CAN DO THIS!! I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY I WOULD EAT BALLS?!?

With his last dying breath Shanon yells to me “But in the Latin Alphabet “Jehovah” begins with an “I”!!

This doesn’t seem relevant to anything in particular, but Shanon really likes movie quotes. Waste of a last breath if you ask me.

Anyway, I take a helping of testicle and prepare to die. But much to my surprise, it’s better than any of the other scary things before. It’s like a moist piece of chicken, if chicken could be fluffy. Or not. It’s hard to actually use words to describe, but all I can say is it was magnificent. Like seeing the face of God. (although NOT like seeing the face of God in Indiana Jones, where it makes you you melt)

To celebrate our achievement (and mourn Shanon’s passing) Ali brought us the dessert platter. This is not to be missed. A portion of light goat cheese and apricot compote with house made pomegranate sauce drizzled on top might have been one of the best desserts I’ve ever had… if it weren’t for the even better honey cake, soaked with the same amazing pomegranate sauce.

I take the subway back from the great unknown to Manhattan, back to w4th street, back to my building, back to my bed. Life is good and safe. Adventure over. I hang up my ball-dusted fedora and whip and know that the world is safe yet again…

UNTIL NEXT TIME, when they try to revive the franchise by serving up a weird dish with Shia Labouf & aliens. Those are some strange meets I wouldn’t want to eat.

KEBAB CAFE: 25-12 Steinway St., near 25th Ave. in Astoria.