Enlarge this image

The Brooklyn Paper / John N. Barclay

Chic pea: Gamal Bakhoum brings Middle Eastern tapas like his falafel plate, at left, to the Columbia Street Waterfront District with Mazzat.

Similar stories

Beyond the pale

Dining: Hazy, hot and hungry

Cinema: Popcorn culture

Dining: Good all over

Dining: All beefed up

Dining: Babes in soy land

Print this story

Share this story

Email a friend

Your name

Your email address

Recipients’ email addresses (Up to ten, separated by commas.)

digg

del.icio.us

We may be at war in the Middle East, but Brooklyn diners have no issues with its cuisine.

On Fifth Avenue in Park Slope, two Turkish eateries opened within weeks of one another, and Miriam, the Fifth Avenue eatery where chef Rafael Hasid plies his creative Israeli fare, has spawned a second outpost in Cobble Hill. The excellent Fez Restaurant, opened a year ago in Windsor Terrace, and in November, Gamal Bakhoum brought Mazzat to the Columbia Street Waterfront District.

Not far from mega-market Fairway, Bakhoum (who also owns two branches of Cafe Rakka in the East Village) gutted an old warehouse and transformed it into an attractive, informal space. The only accouterments that signal a Middle Eastern eatery are the black-and-white photos of his homeland on the brick walls.

As a way of differentiating his eatery from the rest of the Middle Eastern newcomers, Bakhoum refers to the restaurant as a “Mediterranean kitchen.” Among the long list of “tapas” are a few dishes to support that description: chorizo and andouille sausages and foie gras with fig compote to name two. “Sauce verte” (a cold, green mayonnaise-based sauce flavored with herbs) appears in one of the “specialties of the house.” The rest of the plates don’t stray far from the Middle East.

After settling in the front room, we ordered wine from the affordable wine list — there’s a satisfying Pinot Grigio for $7 a glass, $26 for the bottle — avoiding the over-wrought cocktails. Not long after, a basket of warm, smoky, grilled pita bread with a dish of tangy yogurt sauce appeared. We dipped and nibbled while perusing the tapas.

Mazzat, which means “many appetizers” in Arabic, is the ideal place to make a meal of several small plates. There are traditional Middle Eastern hors d’oeuvres such as stuffed grape leaves and tabouli (a parsley salad made with cracked wheat). Hummus and baba ghanouj can be ordered in “classic,” “cumin” or “hot pepper” varieties. We tried both spreads in their “classic” mode and they were well seasoned, the hummus smooth with a small puddle of good olive oil in its center; the baba ghanouj rich with the smoke of the grilled vegetable.

I’ve endured some dismal falafel recently, so Mazzat’s moist, crunchy and highly spiced version was appreciated. So were two dishes of Mediterranean origin: dates wrapped in bacon, and scallops prepared the same way. I loved the contrast of the salty, crisp pork and the sweet, chewy fruit. The scallops’ partner though, overwhelmed the seafood’s delicate nature.

“Sauteed garlic shrimp” was presented with little adornment, as most of the dishes at Mazzat are plated. Several plump crustaceans, cooked until just tender, sat in a small oval dish of garlic-perfumed olive oil. So simple — just the two ingredients playing off one another — and so enjoyable.

Everyone at my table was pleased with his entree, but my “Alexandria style” grilled sea bass elicited glares of envy. It was a beauty: an entire fish is soaked in a garlicky marinade then lightly enrobed with whole wheat bread crumbs. It arrived crusty, nearly black and practically smoking. Beside the ebony knockout was a pile of “Egyptian rice,” a long-grained rice mixed with thin whole wheat noodles that could be bland, but was just right here.

A chicken shish kebab was tender and smoky, though not as impressive as the lamb version. The grill charred the edges of the musky meat and amplified the flavors of allspice, black pepper and mustard seeds that seasoned it.

Unlike the finales in some Middle Eastern cafes, where overly sweet, store-bought pastry is the rule, Bakhoum bakes the baklava here himself. The phyllo is crisp and redolent of fresh butter, the pistachio nuts retain their crunch and the sugar syrup he employs makes the little diamonds less cloying than those baked with honey. With the pastry I downed a cup of Turkish coffee so thick it poured like mud from the little copper pot. The drink is bitter in the pleasant way espresso can be, with a touch of cardamom softening any rough edges.

On a recent Saturday night, a few locals sat at the bar chatting with the welcoming Bakhoum. A couple of large tables were filled with families eating and chatting, reluctant to leave. I looked at the empty dishes on our table and the satisfied faces of my friends and I remembered that ’60s saying, “Make love not war.” It seemed fitting.

©2007 The Brooklyn Paper