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Also this issue: Bubble Up |
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August 8-14, 2002
food
 Take me to your cedars: The tabbouleh platter at Cedars off South Street. Photo By: Michael T. Regan |
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Cedars616 S. Second St. (between South and Bainbridge sts.), 215-925-4950
Lunch menu: Appetizers, $3-$5; entrees, $4-$9.50
Mon-Thu., 11:30 a.m.-10 p.m.; Fri.-Sat., 11:30 a.m.-11 p.m.; Sun., 5-10 p.m.
Wheelchair accessible. No smoking. Reservations suggested for large groups. All major credit cards.
Is it my imagination -- and in no way am I being flippant -- that hummus’ introduction from the Middle East to our tables changed how we eat? One minute the boundaries of dinner were set fast round our own plates; the next, with the arrival of the kind of dish designed to be shared, didn’t food become more of a happy free-for-all?
You can have a moment where you think such a thing while seated at Cedars, a shady hollow off South Street, home to robust Lebanese cuisine. While hummus and tabbouleh have become hearty favorites, we were there to explore some of the subtleties of Lebanese cooking, which, with an emphasis on flavorful meat and gentle use of spices, are harder to get right. Or so we thought.
We arrived just after noon, and the five of us had the place almost to ourselves; Rick remarked that there wasn't much of a lunchtime office crowd in the area, which left the simply decorated dining room quiet -- nice, if you like that sort of thing -- and the servers attentive.
So we began sharing: a basket of warm pita, served with olive oil, followed by our first orders -- deliciously simple feta and olives, hummus and tabbouleh. Howard declared the hummus to be "magnificently garlicky," served with a puddle of olive oil in its center. The tabbouleh, on the other hand, he found a little disappointing. Its blend of parsley, cucumber, tomato and lemon was a little soupy and not as tangy as he likes it. We all partook of a bowl of shanklish, a blend of homemade crumbly cheese, tomato and onion, which, in small portions, tempered its overwhelming richness with neat chunks of juicy tomato. (For those violently averse to sharing, the spanakopita, a parcel of freshly baked spinach wrapped in layered phyllo pastry, is the perfect self-contained appetizer. Equally, the lentil soup was authentically prepared: Howard noticed that it wasn't the "stateside stew thick with lentils, but a tangy, lemony lentil broth.")
So far, so indulgent. We were prepared to find it harder to navigate some of the milder flavors on the menu. Here's where Cedars came into its own; most of the grilled dishes we tried were unadorned with excessive sauces that would smother the flavor. Far from being plain, this meant that dishes such as the grilled chicken, or Dajaj Mishwi, that Debra ordered could stand out; hers was "grilled to perfection," with olive oil and lemon, served with a little dish of crushed garlic on the side.
From the kebab selection, we chose the kebab sampler, Laham Mishwi, at Howard's suggestion, while his 8-year-old son Zack picked the salmon kebab. Howard's opinion was high: Both the lamb and the fish were fired with precision, "each that rare combination of crispy and succulent." Zack, in his highly technical review, pronounced the salmon "yummy."
Elsewhere, Rick chose the Mediterranean veggie platter, with mixed results. Grape leaves stuffed with rice were a little too soggy to hold together, while the falafel he found just too dry. ("Maybe that's why they're shaped like pucks?") Nevertheless, he praised the baba ghanoush, an eggplant puree with a wonderfully smoky flavor. The moussaka was stacked with eggplant too, this time baked with potatoes and ground beef and covered in béchamel cream spiced with nutmeg. Like most of the main dishes, its portion, surrounded by stewed carrots, tomatoes and celery, was larger than anyone could manage.
What to drink with all this subtlety? There are greater treats to be had by steering clear of booze altogether and plumping for mango juice, fresh and zingy, or (at the other end of the spectrum) Lebanese coffee, a heavenly, thick brew that sent Howard into orbit.
Having confirmed our gluttony by willfully ordering dessert in spite of our claims that we were all absolutely full, we reveled in it: baklava, syrupy layers of phyllo laced with pistachio, and nammoura, shreds of pastry enveloping coconut and nuts. Happily finishing the little plates off alongside cups of hot mint tea, we could sit back and contemplate reality: We'd just split a meal worthy of eight people between five. That's where sharing gets you. Can you imagine the mess we made?
On the way out, Rick reminisced about when he worked on South Street and would swing into Cedars to grab a portion of hummus and pita for lunch and split it between a couple of people. "For two broke-ass dudes working on the strip, it was probably one of the best cheap eats." Whether you're hungry on a lunch break or looking to induce your first food coma, Cedars' first-class authenticity is worth a taste. And bring a friend.
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