It’s hard not to judge a restaurant by the restaurant that inhabited its building before. Especially if it’s is the same kind of restaurant.

So, naturally, Manitou’s new Sahara Cafe is held up to its predecessor, Nile Cafe.

Based on that comparison, Sahara is absolutely stupendous.

Sahara serves up such Middle Eastern favorites as falafel and shawarma, wrapped in pitas, as did Nile. But where Nile was a plague of poor seasoning and neglect, Sahara is a land of milk and honey, where Jordanian manager and chef Sam Ayaad (formerly involved with Heart of Jerusalem Cafe) dotes over tables, bringing mint tea in small glasses, offering suggestions for tasty dishes, and even stopping to explain how his tart and spicy chicken marinade is actually a Turkish recipe his uncle used to prepare on his farm.

Sahara does have a bit too much of a 40-years-in-the-desert ambiance. The booths are hard to get into (he says he’s changing them out soon), the neon lighting and faux-wood-panel walls seem unchanged from when the address was a tourist trinket shop. A mixed-up herd of coolers and counters crowd the back of the room. But beyond the budget décor, the menu promises things of beauty.

The falafel ($4.50) have a hot and crispy outside hiding a fluffy, steamy center. Saraha serves them in a puddle of home-made hummus, splashed with lemon juice so fresh you can smell the peel. On the side, a cool, yogurt-based dish of tzaziki laced with fresh mint, olive oil and garlic, is cool, tangy, and perfect for dipping.

The mudammas plate ($7.50) is also a mix of delights. A warm salad of fava beans, olive oil, lemon juice, tomatoes, parsley and spices share the stage with warm, spongy wedges of pita and a generous salad.

It doesn’t just seem so good because the Nile was so bad; Sahara can stand up to any other shawarma shop in the city.

Sahara’s meat hits the mark, too. Sandwiches here ($7) are all wrapped in warm pita with the right mix of lettuce, tart banana peppers, more of that lovely tzatziki, onions, tomatoes and a radiantly fuchsia spear of pickled turnip. Diners can then add chicken, beef, lamb, falafel or any combination of the four.

The lamb is mild and tender, cut into small cubes and not overly seasoned. The beef, too, is freshly prepared — none of that pre-made spinning frozen gyro pop here.

And that family-recipe chicken? It is slaked in paprika, parsley, vinegar and a blend of Jordanian spices, then seared on the grill until lightly blacked on the outside but still moist and yielding within.

I stumbled across only one recipe I didn’t love. If found the tabbouleh ($4.50) too authentic, if that’s possible. The Americanized version includes couscous or bulgur wheat salad flecked with a flurry of parsley, mint and tomato. Here, as in the Middle East, it’s  almost entirely chopped parsley with only specks of couscous, and the astringent herb overpowered the plate. One bite was more than enough.

Don’t miss dessert. Ayaad’s wife makes ma’amoul, traditional shortbread pastries — their rich dough spiked with fragrant orange and rose water — stuffed with dates and pistachios. She also makes a dynamite cousin of baklava where the paper-thin phyllo dough is wrapped around sugar and cinnamon.

Hoping to rope in wandering tourists, Sahara also serves ice cream and is planning to offer breakfast — a gimmick the Nile tried unsuccessfully.

It might be better to focus on sprucing up the dining room. It’s still the one place where Sahara is almost as bleak as the Nile.

ANOTHER TAKE:

The Independent also reviewed Sahara this week. Here’s what they said about it.

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