It was…entertaining, to be sure. The service was terrible, we nearly had to trip up our waitress to get her to even look at us. Glen had a beer, while I ordered their "Turkish Apple Tea". It sounded nice. It smelled nice. It tasted nice. It wasn’t tea. All it consisted of was heated apple juice. It was tasty, but one would think that to have something branded as “Turkish Apple Tea” as opposed to “Hot Apple Juice”, there would be something, oh, special about it. Maybe the juice could be heated with a couple of cinnamon sticks simmering in it. Just a thought.
The food was good, albeit a little slow. The waitress forgot about our dessert, but that didn’t make the baklava any less delicious.
The décor was – ah – Turkesque. Orientalism at it’s finest and boldest was splashed everywhere. Jewel-toned sheer fabrics were draped all over the ceiling, every inch of furniture was upholstered in some fantastically clashing pattern, and there were bad fresco-style murals all over the walls. Here is a little visual tour (the photos are a little dark):
This was our table. With food. And upholstery.
This is the mural beside the table.
The mural worried me. The painted women were watching our every move.
Here is one view of the restaurant.
Here is another view of the restaurant. Behold the magnificence of the ceiling drapery!
And finally: a turban shelf, for all your turban needs!
I can only marvel at the bipedal weaving skills of the dancers who perform there on the weekend. Those tables were mashed together very, very closely. Besides, the orientalism in that place is so thick I’m amazed the diners don’t get choked by the faux gold threaded drapery.
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