December 25-31, 2003

food

New Turk

DOME BASE: Islim kebob with braised beef (center), with (clockwise from top left) Adana kebob, eggplant salad, hummus and ezme. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

Konak's aromatic cuisine gets Old City shaking.

by Elisa Ludwig

Whether it’s an attempt to compete with Old City’s nightlife or a way to meet the demands of corny Americans, Konak, the new Turkish restaurant at Third and Vine streets, is featuring belly dancing on Thursday nights. Alas, we did not visit on a Thursday night, but really, the food there will upstage well-meaning navel contortionists any night of the week.

Few restaurant developments in 2003 were as exciting as the announcement that finally, Philadelphia was getting its very own version of Voorhees' Authentic Turkish Cuisine, which its owners, Ayse Atay and Melek Basaran, decided to rename, repackage and relocate.

The result is Konak, and it is every bit as elegant and formidable as one would expect a restaurant called "Mansion" to be. Trading the old strip mall for a quiet block next to the Painted Bride Arts Center, Konak is an oasis of calm and refinement. But just in case it seems too calm, Konak's full bar offers a wide range of Turkish wines and beers, plus that cloudy, anise-flavored, ass-whuppin' liquor the Turks call raki.

Service is quick, efficient and gracious. The meal begins with quince preserves, butter and warm triangles of pide bread. The preserves are the kind of thing Americans would eat for breakfast on toast, but here they serve to jolt the system with just enough sugar to stimulate the appetite for bigtime eating.

It's possible to just enjoy a spread of mezze, or appetizers, with a few glasses of raki, and indeed it's a tempting possibility, with Konak's enormous range of first-course options. In the must-try category is the sigara borek, a plate of four crisp pastry "cigars" filled with feta cheese and parsley. A bit more exotic is the arnavut cigeri-liver, pan-fried, paprika-seasoned cubes of beef liver, served with an intimacy-killing raw onion salad.

In the salads are variations of flavors you'll find in other Middle Eastern cuisines (just don't say Greek): lemon juice, olive oil, eggplant and tabouli. The shepard salad was refreshing and crisp with diced tomato, cucumbers and scallion. The quince preserves ultimately gave way to more savory bread toppings, like a finely chopped eggplant salad with green pepper and onion, and the "spicy" ezme, a relish of roasted peppers, red onion and walnut sauce, which was actually more acrid than hot.

Kebobs and other grilled meats play a major role on the menu, though there are also several fish and vegetarian entrees. Islim kebob was a dome-shaped centerpiece of braised beef cubes covered with impossibly thin strips of eggplant and served in a pool of tomato sauce. The architecturally impressive dish looked so solid that it might be difficult to break into, but in fact the eggplant was soft and melting. The meat inside, however, had grown disappointingly tough and a bit dry.

The mixed combo plate was a wonderful Turkish smorgasbord of meats served with two sauces, a garlicky yogurt not unlike tzatziki and a bitter tomato sauce. Pleasantly moist char-grilled pieces of chicken, skewered chunks of lamb and papery slices of gyro were included in the assortment, but my favorite was the kofte -- spiced oblong meatballs the size of figs. All of these entrees came with vegetables -- among them tomatoes beguilingly carved into roses and a pepper that looked like it had had a run-in with Monsanto -- and white rice dotted with peas. I was personally hoping for a little pine nut and raisin action, but the rice changes daily, so maybe I will be luckier next time.

For my friend the vegetarian, who is no doubt used to the unsatisfying token vegetable plate handed out at most restaurants as an afterthought, Konak's grilled vegetable plate put all other vegetable plates to shame: slices of eggplant, zucchini, carrots and giant asparagus spears were stacked up on either side of a canal of couscous. Underlying the whole dish was a layer of a downy roasted eggplant purée.

And then, dessert. Konak serves traditional apple tea and, of course, dark, 87-octane Turkish coffee, which you can order tooth-achingly sweet or without sugar. Kazandibi, described as a burnt pudding roll, is the delicate, exotic cousin to créme brèlée; beneath the crisp, caramelized surface was a cool and milky vanilla custard. Oven-baked Turkish rice pudding was mild and sweet, but not a whole lot different from the deli variety -- not that anyone's complaining. Halvah, wedges of sesame seed paste that dissolve on your tongue, came with a sprinkling of crunchy pistachios.

The check came in a little treasure box, though, of course, by then, the real treasures had already been consumed. We paid, agreed that we would all come back, and left, doing our own, involuntary kind of belly dance.

KONAK

228 Vine St., 215-592-1212

Tue.-Wed., 11 a.m.-10 p.m; Thu.-Sat., 11 a.m.-midnight; Sun., 10:30 a.m.10 p.m.

Appetizers: $3-$11.50; entrees: $5.95-$22.50

Wheelchair accessible. Smoking is permitted in the bar area. Reservations accepted. All major credit cards except Discover.