Aya Lebanese Cuisine
Fine dining is all well and good, but sometimes, you just need some good home cooking. When I think of comfort food, food that cultures have perfected as being quick but hearty and ever so flavoursome, I think of Thai food, Vietnamese food, US-Mexico Border food, and - of course - Italian food. But I think there's a part of the world that gets sorely underlooked in terms of its cuisine, which is a real shame given how amazingly diverse and wholesome it is. This is the cuisine of the Eastern Mediterranean - of Turkey, Greece, Cyprus and the Levant. Eating across these countries, you will see the same themes come up, but slightly changed. Rice and mince meat or vegetables wrapped in vine leaves go by Dolmades in Greece, Koupepia in Cyprus, Dolmas in Turkey and Warak Enab in Lebanon. Lebanese moussaka, while containing similar ingredients, is a different presentation to the type of Northern Greece. What they have in common is the use of these ingredients - aubergine, yoghurt, chickpeas, tahini, lamb, sea bass, vine leaves, halloumi, flatbread, shallots, tomatoes, rice - to make food that is tasty, filling, and can be shared between many. This is at the heart of Meze, the many small dishes that serve as appetisers, that friends and family can all share. So when I had a craving for some hearty home cooking this rainy London weekend, there was only really one place on my mind - Aya Lebanese Cuisine, just down the road from our flat in Wimbledon.
I've never cooked any traditional Lebanese food, but having tried my hand at a fair few Greek and Cypriot recipes, I had an idea for what I was in for and what to look for - which is good, because Aya's menu (as with most of the Eastern Med cuisines) can be quite daunting for those unfamiliar with the cuisine. The good thing is, it really doesn't matter what you go for. Anything that tallies with your dietary requirements is likely going to make you happy. This is the real beauty of the cuisines of the Eastern Med. Everything. Tastes. Good.
As much as I am a fan of this food, the real question is how much Aya delivers on the promise of this cuisine. I ordered two mezze (one hot, one cold) and a main, but not before I was presented with Levantine flatbread accompanied by two sauces, one yoghurt and one chili. Both were wonderful, and I quickly realised I might have made a mistake with the quantities. Oh well!
The first mezze to arrive was the cold one, Warak Enab. Warak Enab are vine leaves (also called grape leaves) wrapped around a filling of rice, tomatoes and onion. They are nothing short of delicious, even if a little non-uniform.
The second mezze to arrive was the hot one, Kallaj. Kallaj is Halloumi cheese grilled between two thin pieces of levantine bread. It amazes me how two cultures separated by half the world for most of human history can come up with pretty much the same thing. Because if you're telling me that this isn't an East Med version of a Quesadilla, then you're out of your mind. Grilling cheese between two pieces of flatbread is just a no-brainer.
To wash it all down while I waited for the main course, I had a Lebanese coffee. Served in the almost ubiquitous copper mug, Lebanese coffee is similar to Turkish coffee. With cardamom pods added to it to give it a hint of the aromatic, Lebanese coffee is supposedly one of the strongest coffees you can have. On this occasion, I didn't quite get that - it certainly didn't feel as strong as an espresso. Strength aside though, it was very smooth for a black coffee (which, given that black coffee is the Devil's Drink, is something).
For the main course, I had the chargrilled seabass. This is my go-to dish at Levantine restaurants, as there's no smell more satisfying to me (other than By Kilian's Back to Black, of course, but you can't exactly eat that) than the smell of grilled fish. It takes me back to family holidays in Turkey, of walking along the Bosphorus and the Adriatic Coast in my early twenties. Every now and again, I'll pass somewhere - either in London or abroad - and smell fish on a grill and think 'that is the smell of happiness, of being warmed by food'. I think it would be hard to be sad in a place where the wafting of grilled fish is a constant feature. And so, the seabass arrives and it is perfect. Crispy, spice-rubbed skin. Soft, tender flesh. There is no better way to cook a fish (other than maaaaybe salt baked), but as long as we're dealing with open flames, it's all good.
It says a lot about a meal that, despite being absolutely full, I was sad that it was over. You might look at the pictures here and think (as I think), that the presentation is lacking, there isn't any refinement with the apportioning of the salad (and what really is the point of it?) - you would be right, but missing the point! For all its 'thrown on a plate' feel, this is just good, solid cooking that is true to the home cooks of a culture. It's not made for photographing, it's made for eating, enjoying and sharing.
Value for money? £34 for a beverage, two mezze (starters) and a main course. It was fun and enjoyable, so yes!
Would I return? Yes - when I am next in the mood to be transported to simpler times with some really good home cooking, all while not having to travel very far, I will be giving Aya my money.
