Do You Like Afghan?

There are a few things to keep in mind about Kabobi. (1) They
are open until 10 pm on Sunday. (2) They serve complimentary cups of
delicious milky tea, which, with a healthy amount of sugar, taste like
a liquid version of Cream of Wheat—you didn’t know you wanted it,
but you do. (3) They are, to the best of this writer’s knowledge, the
only Afghan restaurant in Portland, giving them a distinct edge over
the multifarious Middle Eastern restaurants in town: The next time
you’re craving Afghan food, there’s only one place to go.

Of course, in order to crave Afghan food, you have to actually know
what it is. And since the internet allows every hack with a laptop to
instantly acquire superficial expertise on any subject within Google’s
purview, allow me to share what I gleaned from a quick survey of online
sources (including Kabobi’s own informative and extensive website,
kabobipdx.com—restaurant
owners take note, this is what you should be doing with your
website). Afghanistan’s location—on the eastern edge of the
Middle East, proximal to the Indian subcontinent and China—has
resulted in a cuisine shaped indelibly by other cultures. Kabobi’s
menu, if not entirely familiar to Portlanders, will at least reflect
familiar influences: You’ll find kebobs and dal, yogurt sauce and
meatballs, spiced less aggressively than Indian food, and with less
Mediterranean influence than we usually associate with Middle
Eastern.

The very vegetarian-friendly menu lends itself well to sharing:
While a full order of matar chalaw—green peas served with
fragrant basmati rice—makes for a one-note dining experience, try
pairing it with an appetizer of fried eggplant or pumpkin. Don’t miss
the dense, savory vegetarian bulanee, a pan-fried pastry filled
with potato and leek.

The vegetarian mantoo is a lovingly presented ring of
onion-and-cabbage–filled dumplings topped with chickpeas. And
this is the part where having no basis for comparison gets tricky:
While the flavor of the dish was great, the dumplings themselves were
slimy and unpleasant, boiled (steamed?) wontons that could’ve used some
texturizing time in a frying pan. Authentic? Who knows, but slimy
either way.

All the meat is halal (prepared in accordance with Islamic
law—similar to kosher, though less restrictive), with lamb taking
center stage. A braised lamb shank was remarkably tender, served abed a
heap of kabuli palaw: almond, raisin, and shredded-lamb studded
rice. The shank itself seemed under-seasoned, but a friendly waitress
was quick to offer a side of cilantro-jalapeño “chatni” (Afghan
spelling, for a tangy sauce that is thinner than one might expect from
a “chutney”), which brightened things up considerably.

The restaurant itself is a minor miracle of interior design. Located
in the space that formerly housed the Indian/Pakistani restaurant K2
Kabob, next door to No Fish! Go Fish! on Hawthorne, the décor
goes a long way toward overcoming the strip-mall sterility that the
space used to possess. The maroon ceiling matches the curtains, while
beaded candleholders and white tablecloths help with the general
ambiance, managing to create a warm atmosphere in a space with all the
inherent charm of a Subway.

At this moment, in this city, there’s only one way to find out for
sure if you like Afghan food, and that’s to try Kabobi—and while
I can’t vouch for the food’s authenticity, I can promise that it’s
flavorful, reasonably priced, and not quite like anything else in
town.