The show goes on
Caravan Serai latest to play to Playhouse crowd
By Erica Wayne 04/24/2008
I don’t know what keeps happening to restaurants that occupy the space adjacent to the Pasadena Playhouse. I remember writing a glowing review at the turn of the century (sounds ancient, doesn’t it?) about the new Cayo, opened by Claud Beltran after he left Dickenson West. The dinner I had (pureed parsnip soup studded with pearl onions, shrimp sautéed with garlic and marsala and gingerbread with applesauce and fruit-nut compote) still sings in my dreams.
But a couple of years later, Claud had moved on (thank goodness, you can find him and his innovative recipes at Madeleines on East Green), and Mario’s replaced Cayo. I vaguely recall having an uneventful and unmemorable dinner there on one occasion. Pasta? Yes. Garlic? Yes. Tiramisu? Yes. Does ANY Italian restaurant not have tiramisu?
But imagination? Novelty? Sticking power? Definitely not. So, after a brief venue, Mario’s disappeared, leaving a vacant and forlorn shell.
Finally, about two years ago, there was a major reconstruction project at the site and signs went up announcing the coming of a new restaurant, Caravan Serai. Out went the wall-to-wall and linens; in came tile floors, Persian carpets, wooden screens and, even more appealing, spacious booth-niches separated from the main dining area by horseshoe arches in true Moorish design. Cool. Truly a charming interior.
Caravan Serai
39 S. El Molino Ave., Pasadena
(626) 440-0444
Full bar/Major cards
I looked up “caravanserai” on Wikipedia. The word denotes a traditional inn where travelers could get some rest and relaxation. It provided fodder for beasts of burden, food, lodging, baths and shops for barter. Pasadena’s Caravan Serai advertises live music and a deejay, a full bar, belly dancing and hookah (herbal, I trust, to synch with the local no-smoking laws). Since I’ve never seen anybody pull up to the Playhouse on a camel, I presume these attractions are more appropriate than the traditional ones.
Caravan Serai also touts “fine” Persian and Mediterranean cuisine. Judging from our one foray prior to a show a couple of months back, it’s certainly passable. But I’m not sure most visitors are coming for the food. At about 6:30, we were the only diners, although the bar area (which takes up the entire front half of the restaurant) was filled with twenty- and thirty-somethings enjoying music and drinks. Unfortunately, there was only one server, and we had trouble getting her attention as she made her way back and forth from kitchen to bar.
We took the opportunity of choice to settle into one of those romantic niches, only to find that the distance between bench and table was huge. I could actually fold my legs in full lotus position (or should that be genie position, given the Middle Eastern ambiance?); but, without cushions, there was no way to reach the food in comfort. Next time I’m bringing pillows to wedge behind my back and under my tush.
The menu is relatively simple and inexpensive. But they broke my heart when I was told they were out of eggplant, a main component of the appetizer platter ($10), a combination of dolmeh (grape leaves stuffed with rice, tarragon, yellow split peas, chives, basil, parsley and other herbs), hummus (garbanzo beans mixed with tahini, garlic, lemon and olive oil), shirazi salad (diced tomatoes, cucumbers, parsley and herbs mixed with vinegar and lemon juice) and kashk o’bademjam (fried eggplant mixed with kashk — think yogurt, mint and fried onions).
To be fair, the waitress offered to double up on dolmeh, and I accepted. But the tarragon put me off them, and the hummus was decidedly underseasoned. (I doctored it with extra lemon.) Only the simple salad was really tasty. On the other hand, my husband’s shish kabob (chunks of marinated beef tenderloin with green bell peppers — $14) was excellent. It came with a huge mound of basmati rice and a fat grilled tomato. Unwillingly, he traded a chunk of meat for a dolmeh, but we both thought I got the better of the bargain.
I was hoping to find lamb on the menu; after all, what is more traditional in Persia? But there was nary a bleat. The choices for skewering are beef, Cornish game hen and chicken. If you eschew kabobs, I’d suggest some of the more complex items. Ghenmeh stew (beef tenderloin with yellow split peas, dried limes, onions and fried potatoes —$10) sounds great. And there are two intriguing chicken dishes: one with basmati rice, lentils, dates and raisins ($10) and another with rice, spices and barberries ($13).
We didn’t have time to sample baklava ($2) or the Turkish coffee ($4) nor any hookah smoking or belly dancing (alas) because the five-minute warning bell at the next door was sounding. It was a joy not to have to find a parking space and rush to make the curtain. Arriving just after 6 p.m., we were able to leave our car in a legitimate free space less than half a block from the theater and avoid the exorbitant fees to park in one of the lots nearby. For that perk alone, Caravan Serai is worth a try, and I wish it a longer life than
its predecessors.
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