Cardiff on a Fiver: Falafel Kitchen, 76 Crwys Road

Sometimes, a change of label can significantly change perceptions. Consider, if you will, the case of Pedro Almodovar muse and hardly-hideous star of Desperado, Zorro and Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! Antonio Banderas. I'd give you good odds on his career being rather slower to take off if he was somehow known by his Anglicised name, because Tony Flags doesn't really have a Latin lover ring to it, does it? No offence to any TFs reading this: but somehow the name conjures arse cleavage more than Iberian smoulder.

You see where I'm coming from. A change of name can cast someone-something- in an entirely different light. Sometimes it's purely cosmetic, sometimes it's an indicator of a subtle but crucial change. And that's the case here on Crwys Road: previous incarnations saw it start as Falafel Bar, then Falafel Cafe-Bar; now it's a fully-fledged Kitchen, the crucial difference being the presence of an improved location and an evening menu.

It's long been one of those places I've fancied dropping in on: occasionally things conspire to give you a hefty kick up the hindquarters and send you scurrying forth to rectify such an oversight.  Firstly, a enthusiastically-worded review on Joe O'Mahoney's blog Cardiff Food; secondly, and perhaps just as pertinently, it's part of my Cardiff on a Fiver campaign, quest, odyssey...call it what you will.

If it glosses over the fact it involves me troughing my way around the city, all the better. Terminology matters. Just ask Tony F, up the page a bit.

Anyway. Kitchen, Bar or Café-Bar, they keep things simple here. The daytime menu is brief and to the point.

With a strict £5 per head limit, and mindful of the Kitchen's title, we had one falafel pitta (on wholemeal) and one chicken schnitzel (on white).

With  a well-stocked salad tray (diced beetroot to sweetcorn, traffic-light peppers and gherkins to red onion) for you to help yourself to much or as little as you like, and with various sauces to hand, the eventual look and fulness of your pitta is going to be up to you. (Incidentally, this self-service salad option is a welcome development and also features at the nearby and recently-visited Mashawe).

This is a hearty handful of food and as big as you want-and need-it to be. The falafel themselves were excellent, falling-apart fresh and with that ideal collision of crunch and smoothness. A slack handful of red onion and white cabbage, some garlic and herb sauce, a tickle of spiky chilli dressing, and you're on your way.

The chicken was similarly impressive. A generous serving, a soft white pocket full of meat and salad made for a substantial less-than-a-fiver's-worth of anyone's money, and a very strong contender in the Cardiff on a Fiver stakes. With a snifter of the potent chilli and some cooling yoghurt, it made for a notable fistful of food.

Incidentally: I am aware, as I write, that from a certain angle these schnitzel pictures do rather recall some chelonian sleepily re-emerging from hibernation. That should not be taken as any comment on the food, which as you've probably gathered by now, if absolutely spot on.

As we left, the owner asked if we had enjoyed our food. I confessed to feeling fairly crammed by this point, to the point of needing a quick power nap. To which he promptly  answered:

'That's the whole idea. You come here. You eat. You go to bed.'

Now that's the dream...