My dear companion and I came here for lunch one day with a couple of friends. Our couple of friends was characteristically late as usual, so we enjoyed some Turkish Coffee while we waited. It arrived in the traditional style with a little baby pot and two little baby cups. The coffee was good like I expected, but for +$3.99 there wasn't enough of it. I always love the little baby cups, but the little baby pot made for too many babies in the mix. What is this, a nursery? Now, I'm not advocating for a fully grown 12-cup adult coffee pot—don't get me wrong: I'm neither greedy nor loony—but somewhere between a toddler and a teenage coffee pot would have been nice. With the little baby pot we only got two little baby cups worth of coffee, mine being even heavier on the dregs / grounds than Arabic coffee already is to begin with. But I do enjoy the “traditional” things of life, so I'll stop complaining about babies now and just say it was nice to have Arabic coffee again after so long without it. This place also serves Balkan cocktails, but my dear companion and I ain't drinkers. They do got 'em, though; just thought you should know. I think I saw they also have hookahs. Oh, and they have an inordinate amount of guitars all over the restaurant. What is this, Balkan Hard Rock Cafe & Grill?
Now, a lot of people may not know this: “Balkan” refers to a region of Southeast Europe including Serbia, Bulgaria, Bosnia, Romania, Slovenia. Many people may not know this, either: Balkan Cafe & Grill is a Balkan joint what serves Balkan stuff. Even fewer people will know what Balkan cuisine is like. I sure didn't. My dear companion and I ordered Cevapi, which the menu describes as beef/veal “kebabs.” Imagine a bunch of sausage links sleeping in a lepinja bread bed. The sausage was good and all, but it weren't the kind of kebab I was looking for, and I wasn't quite sure how to eat this dish. Is it a sandwich? No, I thought, the sausages would roll right out of bed, fall all over the place and make me some kind of Balkan laughingstock. I guess you tear the bread into chunks, wrap up each baby sausage in its very own lepinja bread bed adorned with onion pillows and ajvar sheets, and then you eat each baby one at a time until all the babies are safe and sound inside your stomach. My dear companion and I also ordered the Grilled Chicken Sandwich, a magnificent plate which is much more straight-forward and hereby highly recommended. The chicken was well-seasoned, well-seared, and well-cooked. Delicious. Topped with sauteed veggies, placed in baked lepinja bread, served alongside a nice quasi-Mediterranean salad and some ajvar sauce on the side. In rare instances like this, I secretly wish I didn't have to share with my dear companion, but don't tell her that. Should I find myself in the Balkans again, I might be inclined to order this dish again—all to myself this time—although I would also be keen to try a Balkan stew or the Rotisserie Lamb. Our friends ordered a Balkan Burger and some kind of mixed meat plate, both of which looked pretty darn good, and our friends were satisfied, too. We also ordered some Pecene Paprike—roasted [chilled] red peppers tossed in garlic dressing—which nicely complemented our meaty meat meals.
We found the prices to be quite reasonable, and our helpful, humorous server was great, too. This is a nice place to have a meal, have some drinks, and chat with friends. We had a gay old time. And, too, I reckon it's a nice business to support with your democracy dollars. I say go on in and give it a try. Find some colorful flavor and have a nice, novel experience for once in your monotonous, monochrome life.
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