Where can 13 highly opinionated people—representing both genders, a variety of vocations, a number of religious persuasions, and a lot of socio-economic backgrounds and political viewpoints—find common ground? At least insofar as dinner is concerned, our eclectic group reached consensus at Ali Baba, a one-month-old restaurant in Nashville’s most ethnically diverse neighborhood. Would that the nations of the world could come together so peacefully—and so pleasurably.
Tucked into a little Thompson Lane strip center, formerly the site of Thai Pattaya, Ali Baba was opened just one month ago by Ali Shahosseini, a native of Iran. Shahosseini came to Middle Tennessee in 1981 to attend MTSU. He logged several years in local restaurants before moving to California in 1990. Then, nine months ago, he abandoned a career in real estate and returned here, bringing along chef Sohail Shabrokh, a fellow Iranian.
Shahosseini didn’t go to college for nothing. He set up a sensible marketing plan for Ali Baba. “We have done no advertising since we opened,” he says. “I wanted to get our service and kitchen in order before we took any ads.” A savvy concept other establishments might want to emulate—putting the horse before the cart.
A lack of paid advertising hasn’t resulted in empty tables in Ali Baba’s 50-seat dining room. Word of mouth and a big sign out front have attracted Shahosseini’s countrymen, as well as culinarily curious Nashvillians. Even our group of well-traveled diners was hard-put to predict exactly what we might find on the plate at an Iranian restaurant. Be forewarned, if your idea of adventurous ethnic dining is The Olive Garden, then Ali Baba probably isn’t for you. On the other hand, if you want to immerse yourself in the culture of a land that’s thousands of miles away, then by all means book yourself a trip out to Thompson Lane.
Only the painfully bright overhead fluorescent lighting mars the sensory experience at Ali Baba, and Shahosseini promises that he’ll address the problem soon. (He also intends to replace the generic prints with more interesting artwork.) The walls are painted white and peach, soothing Eastern music floats from the sound system, and the heady scent of exotic spices wafts from the kitchen, perfuming the small room. Baskets of pita bread (I’d recommend that Shahosseini change bread vendors, especially since Baraka Bakery is nearby) and bowls of panir cheese and yogurt dips whet the appetite while you delve into the descriptive menu.
Because our party was so large, we were able to sample Ali Baba’s entire repertoire, and I’d advise going with a group so that you can do the same. Otherwise, you’ll have to make the hard choice between the familiar falafel and the cryptic kashk-e-bademjan or the joojeh kabob and the zereshk polo—and it would be a shame to miss either. (Rest assured that, to avoid pronunciation gaffes, you can order by number.)
Many of the basic elements of Iranian cooking—tomatoes, beef and chicken, green onion, spinach, eggplant, and okra—are familiar to Southern palates, but they are presented here in highly intriguing combinations. Jump right in with appetizer No. 1, the kashk-e-bademjan (sautéed, puréed eggplant, topped with a garlicky cream of whey and chopped mint). If you’re craving greens, try the must-o-burani (chopped spinach sautéed with garlic and spices, then cooled off with fresh homemade yogurt). We got extra helpings of must-o-khiar (No. 5 on the appetizer menu—yogurt with chopped cucumber, mint, dill, tarragon, and garlic) and must-o-moosir (No. 6—yogurt with diced, intensely flavored sun-dried shallots and ground pepper). We made good use of them throughout dinner for dipping and scooping. The plump koofteh (meatballs) were served in a spicy tomato sauce. The crispy golden-fried falafel patties were the best I’ve had in Nashville.
Just after I announced that I had never really cared for dolmeh, the Middle Eastern speciality of ground beef, rice, and split peas wrapped in grape leaves, I tried one of Ali Baba’s and experienced a dolmeh conversion. These were delectable little morsels, small enough for popping whole into the mouth. At the bargain price of just $1.50, you’ll want to try a plate of khiar shoor, the tangy baby Persian pickles.
The shirazi salad—fresh-off-the-truck diced cucumbers, Roma tomatoes, onion, herbs, olive oil, and lemon juice—provided a supremely simple intermezzo. The house salad, an iceberg-lettuce bow to American bad taste that came with a side of ranch dressing, shouldn’t just be skipped; it should be removed from the menu altogether.
The tabouli was an admirable balance of flavors, not as easy a task as one might think—nor as difficult a task as describing the soup-e-joe, an unusual, creamy barley soup, thickened with beans and tinted light-pink with tomato, then drizzled with cream of whey.
It would be impossible to go wrong with any of Ali Baba’s kabobs. I guarantee they’ll put to shame anything that’s ever come off your backyard grill. Each is marinated, broiled just until the juices run, and served skewerless on your plate. You can choose either top-quality fillet, chicken breast, lamb loin, or ground beef. Especially noteworthy are the whole cornish hens and the thick-cut lamb chops. Kabobs come with a bonus of charred Roma tomatoes.
Among the specialties are three khoresht, or beef stews. Each was memorable, but if I had to choose one, it would be the khoreshet-e-bamieh (No. 27—cubes of tender beef simmered in a sauce of split peas, tomatoes, and whole okra, unexpectedly and unmistakably seasoned with cinammon). We also loved the zereshk polo, not so much for the steamed chicken as for the barberries—cranberry-colored berries that grow wild in Iran—and the sweet onion mixed into the rice.
Each dinner comes with a plate of beautiful basmati rice, colorfully topped with a mound of golden saffron rice. The shaker of red powder on every table is ground sumac—not the poisonous type. It can be sprinkled on your rice, but it is hardly necessary.
Like everything else at Ali Baba, the desserts are made in the kitchen. The baklava is rolled into a tight pinwheel and is heavier on ground pistachio than honey. The delightful Persian ice cream is a custard-colored frozen oval, delicately flavored with saffron and rosewater.
Because of its proximity to St. Edward’s Catholic Church, and owing to Metro’s peculiar liquor laws, Ali Baba cannot serve alcohol; neither is brownbagging allowed. We complemented our dinner with the highly distinctive dough—a yogurt drink that takes some getting used to.
Prices are remarkably reasonable—dinner for 13 was $178.05. Service was impeccably professional throughout, and we were impressed that every entrée was delivered hot. Better yet, all 13 of them arrived simultaneously. (That’s another concept Nashville restaurateurs should explore.) Our questions about the food, its preparation, and Irani eating customs were answered enthusiastically. When Shahosseini sent complimentary cups of sweet, steaming Turkish coffee to the table, we didn’t just feel like customers. We felt as if we were honored guests in his own home.
No doubt, Ali Shahosseini has found opportunity in his adopted hometown; Ali Baba is his gift back to us.
Ali Baba is located at 216 Thompson Ln. (615-333-3711). Open Mon.-Thurs. 11 a.m.-9 p.m.; Fri. & Sat. 11 a.m.-10 p.m.; Sun. noon-7 p.m.
