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SIUNIK ARMENIAN GRILL RESTAURANT IMPRESSED AN AMERICAN JOURNALIST
ARMENPRESS
21 June, 2012
YEREVAN
YEREVAN, JUNE 21, ARMENPRESS: The first time I sunk my teeth into
the pork kabobs at Siunik Armenian Grill, glistened in its rich
semi-rendered fat, speckled with paprika-like dots of Aleppo peppers,
it felt both welcomed and unfamiliar. Something seemed out of place,
like discovering cheese at a Thai restaurant, reports Armenpress
citing Chicago Tribune. The incongruence soon became clear. You never
see kabobs and pork together, per Halal laws. Whenever I taste those
region-specific flavors -chickpeas, parsley, dates, yogurt- my mind
fills in the blank with lamb or beef. But Armenia, a predominantly
Christian country surrounded on three sides by predominantly Muslim
countries, doesn't observe such dietary restrictions. Its sparingly
spiced food reflects its crossroads Eurasian geography-peripherally
Middle Eastern, Turkish and Eastern European. I wonder how Siunik
Armenian Grill, an 8-month-old operation in Glenview and Skokie,
tackles the uphill task of introducing an unfamiliar cuisine to
reluctant Midwest American palates. They come at it from several
angles. First, they serve items such as hummus, which is not Armenian,
but seemingly obligatory at Middle Eastern restaurants. So owner Levon
Kirakosyan added hummus to the menu, and his customer base grew. Next,
they hope to frame the cuisine as unintimidating and accessible. I
might have never stopped in Siunik if a friend hadn't described
the restaurant as "an Armenian Chipotle" 'That statement's about 70
percent accurate. At its Skokie location, all that's missing from
the concrete floor and two-toned wood panels are the funky Mayan wall
sculptures. Warm holding trays are stacked on the glass-partitioned
counter, where service is you-point-and-they-assemble. On my visits,
there was one cashier and one cook. Here's where Chipotle aspiration
ends and small business reality begins. A grandmotherly type tended
the grill, rotating stainless steel skewers to order. There are no
grab-and-go meals here. The food arrived when it did, which was no
more than five minutes. I later found out she was Hayastan Kirakosyan,
mother of Levon, who emigrated from Armenia six years ago and helps at
the restaurant. She developed most of the dishes as a housewife. Levon
said he's proudest of his mother's mushroom pilaf, and I'll second
that -cous cous-like cracked wheat steeped in mushroom and onion
broth. Kasha, too, is a family recipe: steamed buckwheat kernels,
nutty and gluten-free, rooted in Armenia's Eastern European ancestry.
It's a subtle thing, but I appreciate the varied textures on my plate
avoiding one-note mushiness. There's a crunchiness to the cabbage
salad, a crumbly crispness to the honey cake, a gentle give to the
tender grilled meats. The made-in-house yogurt, smooth and tangy
on the intake, provides a cool counterpoint to the hot kabobs. The
first item listed on the menu is the lula kabob. It's a first cousin
to kefta kabobs, ground beef formed into cigars that tastes like your
nana's onion meatloaf. The cubed steak and chicken breast kabobs both
retained moistness, too, a minor miracle.
From: A. Papazian
ARMENPRESS
21 June, 2012
YEREVAN
YEREVAN, JUNE 21, ARMENPRESS: The first time I sunk my teeth into
the pork kabobs at Siunik Armenian Grill, glistened in its rich
semi-rendered fat, speckled with paprika-like dots of Aleppo peppers,
it felt both welcomed and unfamiliar. Something seemed out of place,
like discovering cheese at a Thai restaurant, reports Armenpress
citing Chicago Tribune. The incongruence soon became clear. You never
see kabobs and pork together, per Halal laws. Whenever I taste those
region-specific flavors -chickpeas, parsley, dates, yogurt- my mind
fills in the blank with lamb or beef. But Armenia, a predominantly
Christian country surrounded on three sides by predominantly Muslim
countries, doesn't observe such dietary restrictions. Its sparingly
spiced food reflects its crossroads Eurasian geography-peripherally
Middle Eastern, Turkish and Eastern European. I wonder how Siunik
Armenian Grill, an 8-month-old operation in Glenview and Skokie,
tackles the uphill task of introducing an unfamiliar cuisine to
reluctant Midwest American palates. They come at it from several
angles. First, they serve items such as hummus, which is not Armenian,
but seemingly obligatory at Middle Eastern restaurants. So owner Levon
Kirakosyan added hummus to the menu, and his customer base grew. Next,
they hope to frame the cuisine as unintimidating and accessible. I
might have never stopped in Siunik if a friend hadn't described
the restaurant as "an Armenian Chipotle" 'That statement's about 70
percent accurate. At its Skokie location, all that's missing from
the concrete floor and two-toned wood panels are the funky Mayan wall
sculptures. Warm holding trays are stacked on the glass-partitioned
counter, where service is you-point-and-they-assemble. On my visits,
there was one cashier and one cook. Here's where Chipotle aspiration
ends and small business reality begins. A grandmotherly type tended
the grill, rotating stainless steel skewers to order. There are no
grab-and-go meals here. The food arrived when it did, which was no
more than five minutes. I later found out she was Hayastan Kirakosyan,
mother of Levon, who emigrated from Armenia six years ago and helps at
the restaurant. She developed most of the dishes as a housewife. Levon
said he's proudest of his mother's mushroom pilaf, and I'll second
that -cous cous-like cracked wheat steeped in mushroom and onion
broth. Kasha, too, is a family recipe: steamed buckwheat kernels,
nutty and gluten-free, rooted in Armenia's Eastern European ancestry.
It's a subtle thing, but I appreciate the varied textures on my plate
avoiding one-note mushiness. There's a crunchiness to the cabbage
salad, a crumbly crispness to the honey cake, a gentle give to the
tender grilled meats. The made-in-house yogurt, smooth and tangy
on the intake, provides a cool counterpoint to the hot kabobs. The
first item listed on the menu is the lula kabob. It's a first cousin
to kefta kabobs, ground beef formed into cigars that tastes like your
nana's onion meatloaf. The cubed steak and chicken breast kabobs both
retained moistness, too, a minor miracle.
From: A. Papazian