Divan Turkish Kitchen |
||
918 South 22nd Street (at Carpenter)
Once you enter into the restaurant’s “Dergah” door, however, the smells bring spicy olfactory sensations, as if this portal were a nasal passage. From a mental minaret, a cerebrally self-created muezzin calls out a caterwauling caress. Patrons glow in the ceiling’s golden hanging lights, creating amber rutilant shadows on burnt almond-colored walls.
I The latter appetizer plate is replete with mounds of crushed and scented eggplant; cooked grape leaves filled and brimming with rice; cubes of eggplant in fresh tomatoes; drained Haydari yogurt; and a cup of minced red peppers dotted by walnuts and parsley. All of the above, to some degree, are punctuated with olive oil, lemon paste and pomegranate juice. The platter is redolent of garlic, dill, mint, pine nuts and currant. Tomato wedges and chopped lettuce chaperone. Taste buds are enveloped in servings as authentic as those at the finest cafes in Istanbul and Ankara.
The Karisik Izgara ($17.50), a mixed grill platter, seems required as an introduction to Divan’s entrees. A combo appears of Lamb Adana (char-grilled ground lamb flavored with red bell peppers), Kuzu Sis (grilled marinated chunks of lamb), Chicken Shish Kebab, Kofte (lamb and beef patties) and Doner Kebabs (ground lamb served on a vertical skewer). Char-grilling gives every morsel of lamb and/or chicken cross-hashed tenderness. Never, ever forget to order Kayseri Manti ($11.90), Turkish dumplings that rival Vetri’s gnocchi in sheer marvel. They simply and salaciously maneuver between the lust of your lips toward a place in your heart. A bowl arrives with little fanfare, steaming. Voluminous tiny pinched, pursed, silken plumps of homemade pasta-pouches proliferate. Their nudity is covered by well placed stripes of garlic yogurt sauce and mint. Each miniature parcel contains a nugget of specially spiced ground lamb the size of a baby pea. One tablespoon holds five of the dumplings, all of which you gobble, then groan. They glide past your teeth’s attempted grasps, dissolving into innocuous desuetude, but for an aftertaste that grabs and takes your breath away. Philadelphia seems to have become Aphrodisias as you swallow the full Manti’s filling. Allow me to tell you quickly that you should not order anything that is accompanied by “green salad.” Red onions are sliced and presented so abundantly therein that your whole table smells like a hastily made cheap hoagie. The chef should eliminate raw onions from his repertoire. On the other hand, allow me to tell you even more quickly that dessert should include at least four pieces of Baklava ($5.00/4). They are the best pieces of pistachioed honey in the city; to be devoured while drinking Turkish coffee just brewed with brutish ferocity. I’m not certain that the sister and brother owners, Fulya and Ilker Ugur, can contain their restaurant’s exuberance. They are young Turks who stay open noon to 11 p.m., 365 days a year.FULYA NON FOOLYA; SED FILLYA |
||
Copyright 2007 Richard Max Bockol, Esq. | Back |