The food you rub your hands over is only half of the meal. The rest is your company and the surroundings. An old friend was settling back in the states after five years overseas, so the place I took him for a welcome-back lunch needed to be particularly user-friendly. I immediately thought of Efendi’s.
Among my foodie friends, Stuart is the pretty discriminating, yet the dining experiences we’ve most enjoyed together have had less to do with comparing fois gras and everything to do with hospitality and pride of preparation. More often than not, this has been in informal restaurants run by diligent chef-proprietors. Efendi Atma is Turkish, though the awning outside advertises “American-Turkish-Greek-Italian-French-Middle Eastern” cuisine. The offerings may be all over the map, from baked stuffed sole to chicken piccata, but Atma wants to bring you back to Middle Eastern: veal Marsala is counterweighted by Provimi veal Ankara (veal topped with grilled eggplant).
The décor is heavy on burgundy and dark wood, with lots of floral design and pictures of Mediterranean seaports and streets. The gas fireplace in one corner has a pair of small tasseled table lamps above it. The music in the background is gentle, ranging from Middle Eastern to Miles. Again, the heart of the place is with the former: Stuart learned before I arrived that they were out of raki, the traditional Turkish distilled spirit, because the belly dancers (every Thursday night) had polished it off.
Atma ran the Seaport Tavern in Wickford before selling it, so he knows Ameri¬can tastes as well as that of the region where he grew up. This was evident with the appetizer sampler I ordered, the mezza plate ($9.99). Five years ago, when Efendi’s first opened, the tastes had been more pronounced. The baba ghannoug is still a cloud-light whipped version of tahini-enhanced eggplant, but the hummus doesn’t have as much lemony snap, and the tzatziki is very light on the garlic. (Having discovered the yogurt-and-raw garlic condiment tzatziki in Greece, I prefer it strong enough to remove varnish, so Efendi’s version might be just fine for you.) The three stuffed grape leaves didn’t taste of the strongly flavored olive oil my notes praised in the early days, but there is an addition: a large, thick wedge of an excellent feta cheese, nicely tart. The kalamata olives are pitted and the pieces of pita bread are fresh, hot and smoky from the grill, making the whole array satisfying if you’re not making historical comparisons.
The lunch menu has sandwiches, gyros and pizzas, but also items available at dinner. The pomegranate chicken caught the attention of both of us. It was described as being sautéed with walnuts and in a pomegranate, white wine, and molasses sauce, but they were out of the operative fruit. Those belly dancers and their exotic tastes again? Neither of us was quite in the mood to substitute the pomegranate “Efendi’s Mediterranini” that tops the specialty drink list. (Speaking of drinks, five Turkish beers and an equal number of Turkish wines are available. The Kavaklidere we had was a dry white wine with a deep flavor reminiscent of retsina.)
