Kebab connection

>> On the hunt for Persian treasures
at La Maison de Kebab

by MATHILDE RABBAT

A drive down Atwater yielded a sight one doesn’t often see on the actual sign of a dining establishment: quotes from favourable critiques, carefully selected, no doubt, and prominently stencilled alongside the eatery’s name, La Maison de Kebab. I just had to see what all the hype was about. Was this place the best thing since sliced bread? Or was it simply a bad case of “the brags?”

With so much meat on the menu, I thought, “why not call a spade a spade?” and ordered the hearty Hunter’s platter ($29.75). This protein packed selection, designed to appease the hunger of two people, combines a salad or soup of the day, three appetizers of your choice and just as many meat selections. The salad proved to be a rather ordinary mix of iceberg, cucumber and tomato topped with a sparse vinaigrette. The soup du jour ($2.25), a variation of ash reshteh, looked promising at first, with its lentils, chickpeas, flat linguini-like egg noodles, minced onion and green stringy beans, all suspended in a chicken-based broth. Dark mint oil forms a slick over the centre of this highly viscous pond that was as thick as gravy and thus failed to impress.

As for the appetizer trio that accompanies the Hunter mains, I elected for the mirza ghasemi ($4.25), the borani ($3.75) and the mast-o-mosir ($3.25). Of this trio of dips, the mast-o-mosir, a thicker than thick, probiotic homemade yogurt sporting scallions, creamed the other two. Though the borani, a homemade yogurt blended with shredded cooked spinach, also proved to be quite refreshing, the mirza ghasemi, a spread incorporating tomato paste, roasted eggplant, onion and garlic, was served warm. Tasty grilled pita wedges provided the wherewithal with which to scoop.

Now, on to the Hunter’s feast, namely minced beef, filet mignon and poultry. A huge raw onion, a few slices of radish and some fresh parsley act as mokhalafat (accompaniments) to the meal, along with a grilled tomato and a comforting oval mound of salted basmati rice and loose white and ochre grains sprinkled with dried barberries. These little crimson creatures, resembling tiny cranberries, not only lend a welcome splash of colour, they also enhance the mild flavour of the grains by lending a sweet and tart punch to the chelo (rice) mix. If onions make you cry, you should steer clear of the kubideh kebab (ground beef brochette) ($8.75), which is too heavily laced with the stuff.

That said, the kebab itself was tender and juicy, but perhaps in need of a few more minutes of tanning on the grill. The same can’t be said for the barg kebab (filet mignon) ($12.50), which was decidedly on the dry side, as were the flame-broiled neighbouring “crazy chicken” chunks ($10.25) that should have probably spent a little less time on the barbecue. I can’t say that I was terribly crazy about the crazy chicken. As far as I could detect, spices are kept to a minimum in the preparation of this trio. Besides the onions, a dash of salt and pepper, some lemon juice perhaps and the flesh itself, of course, no other flavour particularly stands out in this dish.

It isn’t really the place for a quiet night out. If you’re in the market for vintage Persian videos and old films dubbed in Farsi, on the other hand, you can catch both on one of two flat screens with the volume jacked high enough to drown out the buzzing neon lights in the window. No matter how you slice it, when an eatery qualifies dishes by using adjectives like “delicious,” “mouth-watering,” “scrumptious” and even “exquisite,” in the description of items on the menu card, they have no choice but to step up to the plate and deliver on those bold assertions. In the end, after careful consideration, I’m afraid my investigation yielded nothing more than Chowhound blogger Chilipepper’s findings: “Okay Persian in a pinch.”