I love poetry, especially the kind that’s a bit confusing but still resonates, like Emily Dickinson’s “I heard a fly buzz when I died.” But wait, this is a food column, so why are we talking about poetry? Well, I found a restaurant in New York and thought, “If I ever become a poet, I’ll come here with my poet friends to discuss the philosophy of life.” The atmosphere and elegance of the place gave me that feeling, which was also reflected in the plating of their dishes. Every dish I had at ABA Turkish Restaurant felt reassuring in a way that went beyond just taste. Normally, I’d describe the flavor profile and textures, but sometimes, food is more than that. It is about how flavors evoke emotions tied to lived experiences. Take the lamb chops, for example. The way they were seasoned and cooked brought me back to my grandma’s cooking, which was simple but still full of flavor. Ironically, I don’t even like lamb, but after my mom insisted I try a chop, I gave in. One bite of the lamb chop changed my mind. The flavor was so robust and smoky, and the lamb itself was super tender. The inside wasn’t too red or brown, just a perfect mix of both, so you knew it was cooked right. As I ate, the smell of wine wafted through the air, and the low lighting added to the restaurant’s luxury feel.
Moving on from the lamb, my parents decided to try the chicken sauté, and I was curious about it too. The dish felt homey yet refined, like a homemade meal made fancier. After researching online, I discovered that Tavuk Sote (chicken sauté) translates to “shopkeeper’s dinner” because initially, it was prepared to serve home-cooked meals to local shopkeepers; that makes perfect sense. The texture was comforting, similar to many stews across different cuisines, but what set it apart was the Turkish hot pepper. It added a fiery depth of flavor that pairs well with the tomato-based sauce. Looking back, I wish I had had more time to try their baklava, one of my favorite desserts. It is just filo pastry filled with chopped nuts and sweetened with syrup or honey, but it always hits the spot. Another thing I should have ordered was the hummus, which was probably super fresh and delicious. ABA’s menu highlights authentic Turkish cuisine and effectively represents the culture. On top of that, they even offer gluten-free, dairy-free, and vegan options, which is considerate for people with dietary restrictions who still want to enjoy cultural food.
Beyond the food, the restaurant itself reflects the elegance of its dishes. It is just staple food made fancy, and that balance is also present in the design. I remember my family having a long conversation about the exposed ceiling and architectural style, which I appreciated. It gave the space a rustic look but paradoxically made the place feel more expensive. That, combined with the dark wood chairs and tables, created an old-fashioned yet modern aesthetic. The industrial style reminded me of staple foods: something reliable and timeless. I loved how ABA’s atmosphere and menu complemented each other. Everything felt intentional, from the flavors to the setting. I’m definitely going back to try the dishes I missed last time.
