SpiceLines

At Turquoise, braised lamb shank is wrapped in thin slices of fried eggplant,
bathed in tomato sauce and baked until the ingredients melt into each other.

Every time I go to San Antonio, the decline and fall of the city’s vaunted Mexican --OK, Tex Mex--food sends me into a tailspin of despair.

Grease oozes from puffy tacos—a really bad local invention, whatever Bobby Flay says. Lava flows of melted cheese smother enchiladas, and portions of everything from rice and refried beans to chalupas compuestas are supersized. I’ve sworn off most of my old flames, as once great eateries like El ****** and La ****** sink into the maw of blender-made salsa.

So yesterday I jumped ship and had lunch at the Turquoise Grill. Turquoise is Turkish, and the vibe at this strip mall enclave is super-hot. Think Moroccan pierced screens and sponged apricot-gold walls where kaleidoscopic kilims clash with retro-exotic oil paintings. There’s belly dancing on Friday nights, wailing music, and a shop selling evil eye amulets and baby blue hookahs.

With all this exotica swirling around, it’s amazing how clean and vibrant the flavors are. On a sweltering August day, a quintet of appetizers were as cooling as a dip in the turquoise waters of the Bosphorous. Here’s what we ate:

Lebni: Thick tangy Turkish yoghurt, chopped walnuts, fresh dill and garlic, drizzled with bright orange, paprika-infused oil.

Babaganoush: Smoky grilled eggplant and tahini, or ground sesame paste; smooth, creamy, totally addictive, especially with the pillowy homemade pita bread. A great rendition of a classic dish.

Kisir: Bulgar or cracked wheat salad with green onions, parsley and tomatoes; light, lemony, a perfect summer snack.

Ezme: Not a salad, not a salsa; finely chopped tomatoes, onion, parsley, crushed walnuts, seasoned with sweet-hot Maras biber red pepper from Turkey

Cacik: A lovely bowl of cold yoghurt soup with cucumber, garlic, dill and dried mint,; tangy and refreshing. I could have this for lunch every day.

Three spices widely used in Turkish cooking: From left to right, maras biber or
crushed red pepper, ground sumac berries and dried mint.

I peppered owner Kamal Cenki, a genial Ankara native married to an Austin gal, with so many questions about the subtle seasonings in these tantalizing appetizers that he disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later he reemerged with three little glass dishes holding the spices he uses. "Everyone thinks that Turkish food is spicy, but really we only use a few,” he said. “The three main ones are maras biber, sour sumac and dried mint. Sometimes we use a little cumin or paprika, but that’s about it.”

I tasted a pinch of the maras biber, This moist crumbly Turkish red pepper is pleasantly hot: but just as it starts to burn, a sunny sweetness steps in to temper the heat. Ground sumac, made of astringent dried rhus berries, is staggeringly sour. It is prized throughout the Eastern Mediterranean for its lemony flavor and is often added to olive oil for dipping. At Turquoise it is sprinkled over raw onions served with grilled meats.

Even though the temperature was hovering around 98 degrees in the parking lot, I let Kemal talk me into ordering Lamb Shank a la Turka. An enormous lamb shank, “boiled” in water, salt and pepper, was wrapped in thin slices of fried eggplant and cooked in a thin sauce made with Turkish tomato paste. The lamb was so tender that it actually melted into the creamy eggplant—this three-step slow cooking is the simplest, most wonderful kind of culinary wizardry, coaxing maximum flavor from two ingredients that can be ho-hum in a lot of Eastern Mediterranean dishes.

Behind the pierced Moroccan screens there’s a room with a few shelves of food to buy—everything from the essential maras biber and sumac to bags of bulgar wheat and flavors for your hookah. I left with a mouthful of rose-scented Turkish Delight, a delicious gummy candy dusted with powdered sugar—and a bright new flame.

Turquoise Turkish Grill, 3720 NW Loop 410. San Antonio, Texas 78229. 210/736-2887
www.turquoisegrill.com