A Turkish avalanche
in a tiny package
By ERIC RUTH
12/26/2003
There
was a time when the average Delaware diner regarded ethnic food with
a certain suspicion, and even a bit of fear. Chinese food once was
an adventure so exotic that just reading the menu could make moms
queasy. Actually eating something called "chop suey" was the mark of
a fearless culinary warrior.
These days, there's at least one Chinese takeout joint tucked
into even the most hygienically-challenged Delaware strip centers,
and practically any casual diner is capable of an informed (and
sometimes passionate) debate over the merits of mu shu chicken vs.
moo goo gai pan.
Then, during the nationwide cultural embarrassment that was the
1970s, Delaware began to catch its first sniff of Mexican food.
Sadly, diners' early adventures were orchestrated by the cheesy,
beans-rice-and-beef philosophies of Taco Bell and Chi Chi's.
Nowadays, fresh and authentic Mexican delights are available at
tiny shops up and down the peninsula, thanks to hard-working (and
therefore hungry) Mexican-Americans who now call Delaware home.
It's time to get ready to get used to loving another ethnic food,
Delaware. The Turks are here.
First, word of Turkish food simmered up in Claymont, where this
robust, meat-happy cuisine somehow slipped into the
dusty-but-venerable Coach House (of all places) in Claymont.
Then, diners caught a whiff of a delightful Turkish place
allegedly called Istanbul, tucked invisibly behind a Wawa on the way
to Elkton, Md. It's a happy place, a family place, full of nicely
fed Turkish-Americans, soccer games blaring on the TV and happy kids
afoot. Next, Turkish joints started popping up around Newark.
Skewers serves its namesake dish along with some distinct Persian
accents.
Now a place called Cappadocia brings the fulfilling, vibrant
dishes of the region in what may be their most appropriate venue - a
laid-back, small-town diner.
Cappadocia's roadside sign out on bustling Del. 896 refers
mysteriously to "Mediterranean cuisine," but such geographic
ambiguity can't disguise the fact that Cappadocia is about Turkish
food at its most delectable.
The deeply rich vegetable salads are the perfect partner for
chewy pita bread. Laced with garlic, composed with sharp accents on
pure vegetable tastes, all have the character to cut through any
jaded palate.
And of course, there are kebabs, kebabs - and kebabs.
The Turkish love for grilled meats certainly suits this
carnivore's tastes, and I suspect would please most Delawareans who
dream through the winter of beef cooked on hot charcoal grills.
"This is the kind of food you would eat at a Turkish Super Bowl
party," my predictably ravenous friend remarked as he selflessly
helped us tear through the brightly focused, sometimes spicy
vegetable "salads" that make up most of the appetizers at Cappadocia.
There's acili ezme ($4.59), a snappy and spicy blend of chopped
tomatoes, sweet peppers, garlic and walnuts that may remind some of
a remarkably fresh and lively salsa. There's patlican salatasi
($5.59), a mashed blend of eggplant, sweet peppers and garlic that
is rich with olive oil and robust in the way of a good, chunky
marinara sauce.
The salty tang of salty fish roe sparkles with each creamy scoop
of taramo salatasi dip ($5.59), and the herby presence of dill is
perfectly suited to the cool cucumber in the cacik dip ($4.59).
Of course, there's a chance Delawareans accustomed to
chain-restaurant meals may initially find such previously
unencountered notions foreign. There's also some possibility others
will find some of Cappadocia's appetizers don't go far enough.
Tabbouleh salad ($4.99) is shy on the chewy cracked-wheat nuggets
and bright tomato flavor that most diners expect from this lemony,
herby salad. For true beauty, even stubborn liver haters should try
the arnavut cigeri ($6.59), a generous serving of tender sliced
calves' liver and thinly sliced red onion - each taste has that
salty, just-crunchy sweetness that only the most expertly fried
liver can boast.
That appetizer and the entrees that follow prove Cappadocia is
surely a place meat lovers will love, especially those meat lovers
inclined to moan deliriously over perfectly grilled lamb chops
($17.99). Brightly flavored, with a cautious marinade of olive oil
and herbs, it's among the priciest dish on Cappadocia's pleasantly
priced menu, but easily worth it in a world of expensive, fatty
racks of lamb.
Even if $18 is too dear, there's a menu full of meat dishes that
will satisfy thoroughly for about the price of your typical large
cheesesteak. Adana kebabs ($9.99) are sort of a meatloaf on a stick,
grilled deeply and accompanied (as with Cappadocia's other kebabs)
with a deliciously charred whole tomato, a mildly hot grilled chili
pepper and a chewy pile of white rice.
Doner kebabs ($9.99) are sort of a gyro for people who are tired
of greasy gyros - spit-roasted lamb and beef are shaved to
paper-thin tenderness, but somehow still hold the moist softness
that makes grilled meat so irresistible.
Most all kebabs are available also as pita sandwiches with yogurt
sauce (and maybe a drizzle of garlicky tomato sauce), assuring that
Cappadocia's menu is meaty enough to let us forgive them for being a
"Mediterranean" restaurant that doesn't offer a single seafood dish.
It's enough that Cappadocia supplements its avalanche of meat
with light, seriously sweet desserts such as revani, a cool, firm
sponge cake soaked with honey syrup; and kadayif, a nutty, chewy
honey-sweet wedge topped with a frizz of shredded wheat. Such sweet
potency can only be countered with syrupy-rich Turkish coffee, a
substance so buzzy with caffeine that I am almost legally compelled
(and certainly have the energy) to petition the state Legislature
for its classification as a controlled substance.
Then again, maybe it's better no one finds out about Delaware's
sweet little Turkish secrets.
Eric Ruth is a News Journal editor. Reach him at 324-2885 or
eruth@delaware online.com.
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