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Glendale News Press, CA
March 15 2015
Dining Review: Budding TKF puts Georgia on her mind
A new restaurant is still working its kinks but worth an hours-long stay.
By Lisa Dupuy
March 12, 2015 | 9:27 p.m.
Our waiter at Tumanyan Khinkali Factory, or TKF for short, told us
there are three TKF's in the world. One in Armenia. One in France. And
now one in Glendale.
Tumanyan is a town in Northern Armenia, not far from the Georgian
border. It is also the name of a beloved Armenian poet, Hovhannes
Tumanyan. Khinkali, filled dumplings the size of tennis balls, are
purportedly just as beloved as the poet in that part of the world.
Seeing photos of the dull looking lumps, I couldn't exactly understand
the adoration. After tasting a few and appreciating the social aspects
connected with eating khinkali, I feel the love.
Tumanyan Khinkali Factory just opened a few short weeks ago in the old
Notte Luna space in Glendale. They're planning their grand opening in
April with Glendale dignitaries in attendance. Until then, there
should be plenty of tables but be prepared to deal with uneven service
until they figure out a system. Still, the most important aspect of
good service, a welcoming attitude, they have in abundance. I admit
when I saw the cavernous, overly lit restaurant, I almost turned and
ran. But when we peeked around the side toward the patio, a couple of
waiters greeted us with warm smiles and enthusiastic encouragement.
The outdoor area is the place to be, especially on a balmy night.
They've taken down the plastic walls and ficus trees from Notte Luna
days, letting only a low wall separate diners from walkers who use
this little back alley of Glendale. It feels very Parisian, especially
with the warm glow from mountain lodge light fixtures. More than once,
fellow diners, most of them bearing Georgian, Russian or Armenian
looks, called out to friends walking by, inviting them in to sit down
and share a khinkali. This is what I mean about the social aspect of
TKF. It's not uncommon to stay for hours, ordering more and more
khinkali along with extra glasses of beer, a shot of infused Russian
vodka or crisp white wine. When you first sit down, they practically
insist you stay all night by presenting you with a large bowl of
crispy, salty garbanzo beans and aromatic croutons. "They taste great
with beer," he explains. He was right.
We then moved on then to ich salad ($12), a plate of fine bulgur
wheat, moist from fresh tomato sauce and scented like my spice drawer.
The only vegetable was baby romaine lettuce canoes for scooping. Our
mixed olive order ($6) came out as olives from the bar (whoops) and
our pileli soup ($9) was forgotten. Then we received our neighbor's
khinkali order. We didn't care, but our neighbors did. I liken a soft
opening of a restaurant to a preview of a play -- they're working out
the kinks. The crowd on this Saturday night clearly took everyone by
surprise.
Finally we got our khinkalis and sour cream ($1.50 extra). Imagine
soup dumplings from Din Tai Fung but much bigger and heartier. You
grab the knotted top and carefully bite into the saggy pouch below,
carefully, because a little hot broth typically comes out. The beef
variety is spiced in the classic Georgian way with caraway and pepper.
The mushroom is dark and earthy with a blast of dill. When you add
butter, sour cream and pepper (as is the custom), they taste to me
like my mom's amazing goulash with buttery noodles. The Georgian
cheese khinkali we ordered fried instead of steamed which makes the
experience more like a cute little Caucasus calzone.
I wish I'd known at the time you're supposed to leave the thick top
knob of dough on your plate, supposedly to display your consumption
prowess. I ate one and it wasn't exactly pleasing.
Which brings me to my one complaint about TKF -- the overabundance of
carbs. Between the croutons, the khinkali, the ich salad and the
pileli soup made with ravioli and topped with phyllo dough, you've
eaten a pound of white flour.
If I were to come back here -- and I will -- I would do TKF this way:
Garbanzos with a glass of wine; Mediterranean salad, especially in
summer with ripe tomatoes and cucumbers; pileli soup; maybe an infused
vodka; then khinkali till we're full, especially the mushroom ones.
And I'd bring lots of friends.
http://www.glendalenewspress.com/entertainment/tn-gnp-dining-review-budding-tfk-puts-georgia-on-her-mind-20150312,0,5382233.story
March 15 2015
Dining Review: Budding TKF puts Georgia on her mind
A new restaurant is still working its kinks but worth an hours-long stay.
By Lisa Dupuy
March 12, 2015 | 9:27 p.m.
Our waiter at Tumanyan Khinkali Factory, or TKF for short, told us
there are three TKF's in the world. One in Armenia. One in France. And
now one in Glendale.
Tumanyan is a town in Northern Armenia, not far from the Georgian
border. It is also the name of a beloved Armenian poet, Hovhannes
Tumanyan. Khinkali, filled dumplings the size of tennis balls, are
purportedly just as beloved as the poet in that part of the world.
Seeing photos of the dull looking lumps, I couldn't exactly understand
the adoration. After tasting a few and appreciating the social aspects
connected with eating khinkali, I feel the love.
Tumanyan Khinkali Factory just opened a few short weeks ago in the old
Notte Luna space in Glendale. They're planning their grand opening in
April with Glendale dignitaries in attendance. Until then, there
should be plenty of tables but be prepared to deal with uneven service
until they figure out a system. Still, the most important aspect of
good service, a welcoming attitude, they have in abundance. I admit
when I saw the cavernous, overly lit restaurant, I almost turned and
ran. But when we peeked around the side toward the patio, a couple of
waiters greeted us with warm smiles and enthusiastic encouragement.
The outdoor area is the place to be, especially on a balmy night.
They've taken down the plastic walls and ficus trees from Notte Luna
days, letting only a low wall separate diners from walkers who use
this little back alley of Glendale. It feels very Parisian, especially
with the warm glow from mountain lodge light fixtures. More than once,
fellow diners, most of them bearing Georgian, Russian or Armenian
looks, called out to friends walking by, inviting them in to sit down
and share a khinkali. This is what I mean about the social aspect of
TKF. It's not uncommon to stay for hours, ordering more and more
khinkali along with extra glasses of beer, a shot of infused Russian
vodka or crisp white wine. When you first sit down, they practically
insist you stay all night by presenting you with a large bowl of
crispy, salty garbanzo beans and aromatic croutons. "They taste great
with beer," he explains. He was right.
We then moved on then to ich salad ($12), a plate of fine bulgur
wheat, moist from fresh tomato sauce and scented like my spice drawer.
The only vegetable was baby romaine lettuce canoes for scooping. Our
mixed olive order ($6) came out as olives from the bar (whoops) and
our pileli soup ($9) was forgotten. Then we received our neighbor's
khinkali order. We didn't care, but our neighbors did. I liken a soft
opening of a restaurant to a preview of a play -- they're working out
the kinks. The crowd on this Saturday night clearly took everyone by
surprise.
Finally we got our khinkalis and sour cream ($1.50 extra). Imagine
soup dumplings from Din Tai Fung but much bigger and heartier. You
grab the knotted top and carefully bite into the saggy pouch below,
carefully, because a little hot broth typically comes out. The beef
variety is spiced in the classic Georgian way with caraway and pepper.
The mushroom is dark and earthy with a blast of dill. When you add
butter, sour cream and pepper (as is the custom), they taste to me
like my mom's amazing goulash with buttery noodles. The Georgian
cheese khinkali we ordered fried instead of steamed which makes the
experience more like a cute little Caucasus calzone.
I wish I'd known at the time you're supposed to leave the thick top
knob of dough on your plate, supposedly to display your consumption
prowess. I ate one and it wasn't exactly pleasing.
Which brings me to my one complaint about TKF -- the overabundance of
carbs. Between the croutons, the khinkali, the ich salad and the
pileli soup made with ravioli and topped with phyllo dough, you've
eaten a pound of white flour.
If I were to come back here -- and I will -- I would do TKF this way:
Garbanzos with a glass of wine; Mediterranean salad, especially in
summer with ripe tomatoes and cucumbers; pileli soup; maybe an infused
vodka; then khinkali till we're full, especially the mushroom ones.
And I'd bring lots of friends.
http://www.glendalenewspress.com/entertainment/tn-gnp-dining-review-budding-tfk-puts-georgia-on-her-mind-20150312,0,5382233.story