After waiting an unconscionably long time to get our act together, Lovely Dining Companion and I finally made our inaugural visit to Turquoise Cafe last evening. It was an uneven experience that left one of us eager to return (me) and one of us willing but not eager (LDC).
We made an early reservation for 6pm which turned out, in retrospect, to be quite fortunate. As we were welcomed, the genial gentleman who seemed to be more than a waiter but less than an owner (?), asked if we were apprised of the fact that we would have to vacate the premises by 7:30 for the private party that had rented the place for the evening. I had not been informed of that when I made the reservation, but 90 minutes seemed about right to have dinner and dessert and not be rushed. In the event, it was almost perfectly timed. It would have been nice to have been told on the phone but, as they say, no harm, no foul.
Both of the waitresses (there were only two) stopped by our table to inquire about drinks before the tall attractive blonde settled in to be our server. She was generally quite attentive and seemed genuinely concerned that we enjoy our food and the experience. The place, for those who have not yet been, is a long rectangular room, nicely appointed. Cloths on the tables, a more upscale dining experience than most Turkish places I've been to in Chicago (with the exception of a place down on Lincoln, years and years ago...whose name now escapes my recollection).
As has been noted in another post, they have two menus--a Western one and a Mediterranean (read: Turkish) one. (Their menus are available online at
http://www.turquoisedining.com/menu.php) We chose almost exclusively from the Turkish offerings. To start, LDC had the char-grilled portabellas with roasted garlic and basil in a "creamy white vine sauce." Nt so Turkish, perhaps, but quite good. I opted for sogurme, described as "smoked eggplant, creamy yogurt, garlic, walnuts toasted in crushed red pepper." The smokiness of the eggplant was foremost, and the garlic also pronounced. But what was most intriguing--and which I attribute to the yogurt--was the "zing" of the dish. The only comparison that comes to mind at the moment, is the carbonation of any very young new wine. It had a similar sparkle on the tongue that intrigued me but LDC found offputting. Wonderful dish, but an appetizer portion was precisely right.
For dinner: LDC settled on kilic sis: "Medallion seasoned, skewered sword fish, char-grilled and served over spring green peas, caper, red onion, black olives, balsamic herb sauce." Here began the oddity: the waitress very carefully de-skewered the fish and made a beautiful presentation. But not only was the plentiful portion of vegetables cool, the fish itself was cool. I'm not talking lukewarm, I'm talking cool--no warmth left. This is a kebap, a grilled entree. And, I should add, one of the most expensive on the menu at nearly $20. We finally asked the waitress, who explained the the vegetable "base" is intended to be cool. But not the fish. How on earth can grilled swordfish go from kitchen to table and end up completely lacking warmth? Adding insult to injury, why did the green beans appear to be canned? If not canned, then they were cooked to death.
Notwithstanding these issues, LDC enjoyed the flavors and brought home the leftovers so that the whole dish could be served hot. But shouldn't the fish have come that way to begin with? The waitress was distressed to learn about the fish and offered to do whatever she could to make it right. But we must bear some responsibility here since we dithered over what to do until she was no longer hungry enough to finish the dish at the restaurant.
My "onion kebap" was intriguing. The description states: "Hand chopped lamb, caramelized shallot, garlic, rosemary, raisins, cherry tomatoes, braised in pomegranate sauce served with baked vegetables." I love lamb and this was fork tender, though I'm not sure it was chopped (though clearly tenderized in some fashion). The sauce was vigorously, bitingly sour. I enjoy sour. One might even say I love sour. And the sauce worked with the ingredients in very small doses. But it was too much: literally and figuratively. The pomegranate seeds had just enough sweetness to help and I didn't notice any raisins (whose sweetness would also have assisted). The single cherry tomato added little. I would love to try the other dishes, but won't rush back for this one. The dish was accompanied by a baby bok choy, split, and served perfectly steamed. On the side, a small parchment sack of assorted vegetables.
Perhaps someone can help us deconstruct our rice pilaf sides. We both ordered it. We both received a dish of what appeared to be steamed rice. Period. Very nicely flavored, but pure rice. Does Turkish pilaf differ from other ethnic/national pilafs so much as to be pure rice, unadulterated by additions of any sort? It was good...but it was rice. And we found it curious that neither of our dishes included any starch at all.
Dessert was simple: LDC chose figs and I chose pumpkin. In both cases, the item(s) were soaked in a very light syrup and served with a very firm, substantial dollop of heavy cream garnished with walnuts. Light, not particularly sweet in either case, and a nice way to end the meal.
As the waitress brought the swordfish leftovers, we asked if the package included the leftover portabella cap. Flurry of activity. Busboy (there was one) professed ignorance. Long story short, the kitchen prepared a fresh one for us to take home in the stead of the "lost" one. A nice touch and the right thing to do.
We had a restaurant.com coupon. Had we not, dinner with no drinks would have run about $65, including tax but not tip. The slip-up with the portabello can happen to anyone; we thought that they handled the issue correctly. So too the swordfish--although it completely escapes us how the fish can wait so long to arrive that it shows up and is cool to the touch.
I enjoyed the food, LDC less so; our return will depend upon Gypsy Boy's negotiating skills since LDC's willingness to return depends on finding ourselves in the neighborhood at dinnertime (an occasion so infrequent as to constitute an effective veto).
Gypsy Boy
"I am not a glutton--I am an explorer of food." (Erma Bombeck)