Sitti, Authentic Lebanese

                                                                                                                                Visited in February, 2015

Next door at Gravy Restaurant, ten minutes before their opening:  “Could you let us in? We’re really cold. It’s freezing out here.”

The Gravy manager barked, “You’ll have to wait until we are open.  Not before.”

“We don’t need a table right away, can’t we just wait inside the door where it is warm?”

“No.”

“Jerks,” I muttered irritably.

“Are you still hungry?” my wife asked, ignoring my grousing.

“Look at you, your fingers are turning blue. You’re shivering. What else is nearby?”

“Sitti is right next door.”

“We’ve already been there twice.  The service was slow, the bar tender worthless.”

“That was just your martini.  You enjoyed the food didn’t you?  Besides I don’t see anywhere else.”

“I suppose.” I replied without conviction or even enthusiasm.

Well before the evening rush, there were plenty of tables. A waiter appeared. “How are you this afternoon, sir? My name is Ross.” Before us stood a stolid, somewhat stocky, unruly haired young Celt, either totally unfazed or unable to read my dour expression. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“How am I?  Let me tell you. We’ve just been pushed out in the cold by Gravy, and we’re hungry. Vivian is there a wine you would like?” I so wanted this to be fun, but I was not optimistic.

“Yes, this looks good.” she replied cheerily and returned the wine list to Ross.

“And for you sir?”

Grumble, grumble. “Is this bartender any good? The last two times we’ve been here, the drinks were terrible.”

“How so?”

“I like martinis. On our first visit, after reminding the waiter twice, mine finally arrived, well after we had begun eating. The second time – it arrived with ice chips all over the surface, obviously shaken when I had asked for stirred. Water kills gin.”

Ross’s eyes twinkled; his body language read “Ignore gruff.” He paused, smiled disarmingly, and responded, “How do you like your martini?”

Good man. No fear, very professional.  I liked him, but I still barked, “Tanqueray gin, classic not dry, not shaken, stirred only a few times, and straight up, with an olive. And better bring me a jigger of olive juice for insurance.”

“Insurance?”

“Yes, insurance, if it’s poor, I can drown it down dirty.”

“I’ll bring the juice, but you won’t need it. You’ll be pleased. To be sure, I’ll make it myself.”

I warmed to this guy.  My wife and I had begun to thaw.

The drink arrived, I sipped. “Ross, thank you, this is good.” He waited a bit more, the restaurant was not yet crowded. Though he had no accent, I wondered out loud,”You’re not Scottish by any chance, are you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact; my mother still lives there.”

And so started a conversation, first about Scotland, then his educational background, and finally the restaurant itself. He told us about the old time photos on the walls, “Many if not all are relatives of the owner, including his ‘Sitti’ which in Lebanese means ‘grandmother,’ the most important, and most beloved figure in any Lebanese family.”

We were in good hands. Ross’s martini calmed my inner dragon. “And so my new friend, what do you recommend?” Sitti organized its large, tri-panel menu by: Cold Mezze (salad, soup, sides); Entrees and Kabobs; and Hot Mezze and Pizzettes. “So many choices.”

The table pita arrived, fresh warm billowing pillows of goodness. Vivian and I relaxed enough to discuss Burning Coal’s production of Romeo and Juliet that we had just this afternoon. By the second martini, we were reminiscing about other productions. 

I truly enjoy lentil soup, one of the world’s great accomplishments, and Sitti’s ranked among the best, and also one of the most unusual.  Tonight’s included not only dark lentils but shredded grape leaves in a tangy vegetable broth. Slivers of a white root vegetable replaced the typical rice. Neither Vivian nor I could quite place the very fragrant spice. I’d go back just for the soup. Not ordering any appetizer, Vivian tried my soup and loved it.

Her shrimp kabob arrived off the spit, tangy with a delectable sauce.  “One of the best shrimp dishes I have ever had.” She exclaimed. I tasted the tails (yes the tails, I like them crispy and chewy).  The sauce was indeed good, not oily, and not overly spiced.  Her white rice, served with brown, fried bits of vermicelli and slivered almonds, was quite good.  

After all these good treats, my swarma was a bit of a disappointment.  Having lived in New Jersey with its large Middle Eastern population, the swarma I was used to was meat shaved from a large vertical-spit of overlapping cuts of meat.  What I received were pan fried, indistinguishable morsels of beef and lamb. My guess would be that the demand for swarma in Raleigh doesn’t warrant setting up a true swarma spit – nevertheless, this second best was just that.

Because it sounded so bizarre, I ordered garlic whips as my side.  Bizarre? Yes! As strange as Aladdin’s magic carpet and even more transportive. Wow, what a grand taste. Ross described it as a mixture of egg whites, garlic, salt and a small amount of oil.  It was far lighter than mayonnaise and spread wonderfully. Next time, especially if the lentil soup is not au jour, I’m ordering garlic whip as my appetizer.

In the hopes that we might someday bring our grandchildren, we checked out the children’s menu. It’s as much fun as the adult fare: mini tastes of hummus, baba ghanouj, and labneh; cheese pizzette with house-made mozzarella; chicken kabob; or peanut butter and jelly on pita. We laughed over the Lebanese interpretation of our traditional PB&J.

We shared the baklava for dessert: five pieces, sweet but not too rich; we could even taste the pistachios.  To Vivian’s disappointment, they did not serve Turkish Coffee.

On leaving we thanked Ross profusely, “Great time; you’ve made me want to come back.”

 

Sitti Authentic Lebanese is located at: 137 S. Wilmington Street, Raleigh, NC 27601.   919-239-4070.   http://www.sitti-raleigh.com/

Tra’ Li Irish Pub

One of our favorite family restaurants is the Tra'Li Irish Pub in Briercreek. Such frequency itself warrants a review. We enjoy its atmosphere, its staff, and the bill which is fairly gentle on the wallet.  Our children and grandchildren like it; the food is comfortable and the menu is extensive, the children’s menu alone has nine items.

Tra'Li describes itself as “Your local pub [with] families enjoying brunch … co-workers enjoying drinks after work … professors writing lectures … [and] soccer fans watching their favorite clubs.” The workers tend to be IT types from the Research Triangle, and I’ve yet to see anyone writing away, but the sentiment is honest.

Styled as an Irish Pub, much of the interior is wood and plaster.  I prefer the “library” with its shelves of books, steins and various pubby knick-knacks.  The upholstered seats are comfortable, and the tables wide. Most of the rooms are conducive to convivial dining and there is ample outside seating.  Like the food, the ambiance encourages an easy going comradeship.

The beer selection is fairly extensive, their wine list adequate. Occasionally they tap a particularly interesting barrel. They also maintain several of our local craft beers on tap.

I particularly like their Scotch Eggs, three hard boiled eggs, each wrapped in sausage and deep fried. They make a great starter, or even a small meal with a salad.  And, they open up conversation, since they are unknown to most people.  Last time we were there, much to the great satisfaction of all three generations around the table, we ordered Tabasco Onion Straws with ranch dip. Made from real onions, they arrive in a large heap of twisted, batter coated delights. We had no problem finishing them off well before they cooled. 

Vivian enjoys the turkey wrap.  I have had their Shepard’s Pie and find it delightfully different. The Beer Battered Fish and Chips are tender and tasty, the batter flakey, and the chips uncommonly good.  Their homemade onion tartar sauce is worth the price of the meal. My son claimed his burger it was one of the best in the Triangle; my sister speaks highly of the lamb burger. The Big Mic, at $13, is a bargain hunter’s delight, two burger patties separated by a rasher of bacon and topped with cheese.  The real star, however, was not the meat, but the thick seasoned wedges of potato, cooked perfectly: crunchy outside, tender potato inside. 

Back in the frigid days of February, I ordered the carrot and rutabaga soup. The waiter booked my order; the odds seemed highly stacked against me.  But I won, the payout far exceeded my expectations. Great taste.

As you my readers know, a very special part of my dining experience depends on the wait staff.  I recommend two, Courtney and Kyle.  Courtney is quick and efficient and though not much of a talker, unless she has the time and you initiate the conversation. Kyle, though also efficient, trades me quip for quip which I greatly enjoy. He is heading off to grad school in the fall, so seek him out while he is still there.

What to avoid:

Never, never order a cocktail, nothing where the mixer is stronger than tonic, nothing that requires anything of the bar tender other than popping a top. My Manhattan tasted more like the school punch we spiked in junior high, filled with a fizzy cherry soda faintly tasting of bourbon. My martini arrived without an olive, and without vermouth. If these two traditional drinks confuse the barkeeps, imagine how they’d hatchet a sling or a sour.

Avoid the back room near the bar. The noise precludes conversation.

Don’t expect the meat to arrive as you ordered, unless you happened to request medium to well done.  My son’s burger came exactly how he likes it.  Mine came the same way, except that I had ordered it medium-rare.

 

Cast away any illusions of food like mom used to make. An old Friday stand-by dinner in our Catholic house was cod fish cakes and tartar sauce. The Newfoundland Cod and Potato Cakes arrived heavy on potatoes, weak on cod.

My recommendation: come and enjoy.  It may take one or two visits to sort out what appeals to you, but at these prices, the risk is not great.  I’ve given you a bit of advice on what I avoid. Once you’ve established your own footing, you’ll skip, hop and jump with delight.  The patio tables of young people enjoying a fine brew, great times and good conversation on a balmy afternoon speaks to the appeal of Tra’Li.

The Tra'Li Irish Pub is located in Brier Creek at 10370 Moncreiffe Rd, Suite 109, Raleigh, NC — 27617   919.544.4141     www.traliirishpub.com   (I have not tried its second location in Morrisville)

The Martini

I pick up martini’s signature glass, not spilling a drop. I hold it religiously, savoring the ancient scents from antique juniper glades – and it transports. I dance back into my youth, long before debilitating aches. I am lusty once again, filled with strength, with a fertile mind and body, with the ability to race and jump. Old memories leap forward: Vivian and I sipping martinis on Snoopy’s[i] quiet pier watching the gulls hover over Texas wetlands, with Bob and Anne Marie at Morell[ii] in Manhattan, or just relaxing before a winter fire in our Wilmington home library 

A martini is simply the mating of gin and dry vermouth, generally in Fibonacci proportions, of one to eight, but its assembly requires careful attention. No water. No camouflaging flavors. And careful engineering and some ceremony.  

The epitome of ceremony:  While at a very fine hotel in Barcelona, that ancient world of elegant artistry, we watched as two white coated waiters rolled out a finely carved oak table draped in starched white linen, on which rested a single thin martini glass and one lemon. To the martini glass, Juan added ice and a splash of water while Luis assisted me in picking out my gin and finding out whether I preferred it classical, dry or dirty. I prefer classical; I want to be able to feel the vermouth. Taking up the lemon, two shallow shavings were removed. Juan pared one down to a long thin zest, the other he left whole. Gin and a bit of vermouth were added to a dry canister.  The slush in the martini glass was thrown out and the chilled glass wiped dry. The wider lemon peel was flicked across the rim leaving a thin coat of lemon oil.  Juan dropped a few ice cubes into the gin-vermouth mixture and stirred it quickly, poured it into the dry glass while Luis lifted up the thin, lemon zest, twirled it around his finger, and dropped it into the glass where it uncoiled gracefully. Then they both paused, standing at attention, allowing the various flavors to get acquainted. Juan brought over a small white napkin which he centered precisely in front of me and onto which Luis ceremoniously placed the martini. I placed two fingers on each side of the rim, raised the martini, slowly drew in the power of the junipers, took a small sip, rolled it in my mouth, bathing each taste bud, sighed, and then applauded the artist for a drink well made.  Exquisitely made indeed. 

Bar tenders relax.  Americans prefer far less pomp – but a good martini requires the same basic steps in this order: a) chilled martini glass; b) good gin and vermouth mixed together, c) ice added, then stirred, d) quick decanting and e) a garnish added. Note, though it seems counter intuitive, the ice must be added to the liquid, never the other way around. The gin and ice should never be allowed to just sit while a busy bar keep attends to others. It is stirred, never shaken; shaking only splinters the ice which then melts in the glass. Water kills a martini. 

Garnishes:

·         Must there be a lemon? What about olives or pickled onions? Preferences here depend on the individual – and on the gin. I prefer to complement the simplicity of Tanqueray with a “wet olive,” one dipped first in its own juices. If the only gin available is cheap and harsh, then add olive juice to make a “dirty martini,” the salt buffers the rough edges.  For more complex gins, such as Hendriks with its hints of rose petals and cucumber, I prefer the simple zest of lemon. Blue Cheese olives are delightful, except for the oil slick they leave behind. My brother favors Garlic stuffed olives, not I. With a pickled onion, known as a Gibson (martini), one gets a bit of sweetness, the better the pickling, the better the Gibson.

 

Gins:

·         Martinis require the mystical kiss of juniper, as found in a fine gin - not vodka. Gin alone holds the juniper power, the dulcet melody, and the magic of a really fine martini. The choice of gins is vast.  I prefer Tanqueray or Hendricks. Even in North Carolina’s ABC stores, one has the choice of 14 imported gins and 34 domestics, including 4 distilled in our state.  The only local gin I’ve tasted is Cardinal and I found its herbals far too raw. 

Pet Peeves:

·         Water in the gin: the elegant and venerable Fairmount in Boston go so far that it serves the martini in a carafe that they have allowed to cool in a bowl of shaved ice, never abused by water.

·         Olives strung out across the rim. It’s pretty but adds nothing to the taste.  I prefer my olive dipped first in its juice and then sunk to the bottom.

·         Half-filled glasses: a martini glass is designed to vent the juniper aroma, it needs to be full.  Unfortunately, North Carolina, with its prohibitionist mind-set, limits the ounces per drink.  If a bar uses a standard size martini glass, it will be only half filled.  Some, like Red Monkey, have begun using smaller stem-less glasses. Inelegant? Yes.  But given the limits on pourage, they provide a better taste. 

Food Pairings.

·         Bread is a natural.  I especially enjoy a basket of freshly made Louisiana hush puppies.

·         Avoid anything oily, vinegary or spicy-hot; like dreadful siblings they vie too hard for your attention. 

Recommendations:

·         My best ever martini in Raleigh was at Vivaci[iii], a fluke it has yet to  replicate. Betski’s[iv] and Holly’s[v] also do a good job, with direction. Get to know your bartender. I recommend Zack Vile at Red Monkey[vi]; Tony Coulter at Bloomsbury[vii] or Aaron Squires at Irregardless[viii]. I only make a reservation if the receptionist can guarantee a favored bar tender. And, I try to tip accordingly.

 

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[i] Snoopy's Pier, 13313 S Padre Island Dr, Corpus Christi, TX 78418     snoopysrestaurant.com

[ii] Morrell Wine Bar & Café, 1 Rockefeller Plz, New York, NY 10020     morrellwine.com

[iii] Vivace, 4209 Lassiter Mill Rd, Ste 115, Raleigh, NC 27609   www.vivaceraleigh.com

[iv] J Betski's, 10 W Franklin St Ste 120, Raleigh, NC 27604.    jbetskis.com

[v] Holly’s on Hargett (formerly called Mo's Diner), 306 E Hargett St, Raleigh, NC 27601.     www.mosdiner.net

[vi] Red Monkey Tavern, 4325 Glenwood Ave S Ste 2079, Raleigh, NC 27612    redmonkeytavern.com

[vii] Bloomsbury Bistro, 509 W Whitaker Mill Rd Ste 101, Raleigh, NC 27608     www.bloomsburybistro.com

[viii] Irregardless Café, 901 W Morgan St, Raleigh, NC 27603     www.irregardless.com