As far as I remember, I have written only one restaurant review and that was on the "ménage a trois of Georgian/Russian and Californian cooking," the renowned Kafe Sobaka/ Restoran Pomegranate.To refresh your memory, here is the link.
http://www.morejewishluck.com/blog-jewish-luck-book/kafe-sobaka-restoran-pomegranate).
When I returned to San Diego this December, I decided to follow up on Restoran Pomegranate to check if it matched my memory.(I believe in depth, not breadth.) So we made a reservation at the Restaurant Pomegranate and entered a space which was not at all what I remembered.We were not warmly greeted by someone who seemed to have nothing better to do than spend the whole evening chatting with us.The menu had some humor, but it was not hilarious. The interior "design" conveyed the feel of an Eastern European Restaurant with plenty of kitsch, but no soul."How about the food? "you ask.The fare was good but didn't bring tears to my eyes. No black bread and the tea did not have the pomegranate syrup I craved.The flaming chicken, however, thrilled my husband, Harry. I was sad for Mom as there weren't as many vegan items on the menu, and the waitresses ran by as if they were speed skating with a clear emphasis on efficiency.We were at the wrong Restaurant Pomegranate.
Several nights later we tried again. This time, we ignored the first Russian Georgian Restaurant that appeared on Yelp and headed for the Kafe Sobaka/ Restoran Pomegranate. Interesting that the phone numbers for these two restaurants are only one digit apart. You can understand my confusion.
Arriving at 6:00 pm, the place was still fairly empty. I think we would have been warmly greeted had it not been the birthday party of a staff member.I was a little miffed we weren't invited.Obviously, we were early to dinner. In the corner I heard the booming, heavily accented voice of a man who was asking probing questions of the diners in order to tell them what they should have.Hmm, he sounded bossy.Harry noticed he was in a wheelchair and deduced that it was likely the proprietor. Mark Djugashvili. After Mark had ensured that the naïve diners ordered correctly, I introduced myself , and he wheeled over to our table to join us.
He explained that this was his ninth restaurant, and I told him last time we had met his fifth wife."Still current wife", he assured me.In his pocket, he carried the receiver of the portable phone and every few minutes when the phone rang, I heard a new routine.His voice echoed through the nearly empty restaurant.
"Kafe Sobaka."
"Of course you need a reservation!What do you expect?What is your name?"
"Ah, interesting name.How many are you?"
"So tell me about the other Restaurant Pomegranate," I asked.
"I used to own it."
Then he began a story that he has, no doubt, told time and time again with embellishments.His first job was as a book designer for Harcourt, Brace and Jovanovich.He told us what a great storyteller Jovanovich was and what a shame it was that the company was sold.Thus began the history of his restaurant holdings saying the first was a hot dog stand.He moved on to Texas Barbecue, but before we could finish the phone rang again.
"Kafe Sobaka"
"Line? it all depends.If you're a nice person, a hungry person then there is no line for you, but if you are not so nice you need to wait."
Now we returned to the topic of story tellers and he was telling me what a great storyteller Garrison Keillor was. He missed Tom Kartok.I searched my memory for who Kartok was and then he explained that he was one of the brothers who talked about cars.Oh, Car Talk...I agreed – great storytellers.The phone rang.
"Kafe Sobaka"
"Are we open today? Ma'am we are open 365 days a year 24 hours a day, but sometimes we close for a couple hours to take a shower."
He talked about how some people assumed he was a homeless person and when he came over to say hello they would shoo him away or secretly give him leftovers.With his scraggly beard, his woolen hat and his old jacket, he does play the role and, I think, appreciates the confusion of customers, perhaps using it as a personal litmus test.
"Kafe Sobaka"
"What time do we close?We close when the last drunk person needs to be carried out"
His recipes are those of his family.He had a Georgian mother and a Jewish father and grew up in Georgia, USSR.He loved to cook.It would kill his sister to boil an egg.Even now,, he tastes everything that goes through his kitchen. The people at the other Restaurant Pomegranate are not from Georgia and don't know what the food should taste like.
He tells me the story of an American pilot who gifted him the huge cloth map of the USSR with Georgia at the center that was tacked to the wall.He told me to look at the folds on this map.He said this man carried it in his pocket folded up so if he had to parachute out, he would have some idea of his bearings.
It's clear we met Mark in his home and we were his guests for the evening – it's a home that suits him where some are welcome and some – have to wait in line –.I will only say that each dish was wonderful, and yes I did cry tears of joy whilst I ate.When you're there, look out for the troubadour proprietor on wheels.You might want to start a conversation on his jazz record collection. He'd be glad to tell you what to eat. Na storovye (To your health)!
For more information: My all-time favorite restaurant website to explore: http://www.pomegranatesobaka.com
Notes:Yes, Mark does have the same last name as Stalin before Stalin dropped his Georgian name.Based on personality they don't seem to be related.The quotes are approximations from what I remember Mark saying. Not used to this restaurant reviewing business, I misplaced the envelope with all my notes. See my blog "Being Mindful of Mindfulness" for references to my forgetfulness or any of my other blogs.
