Restaurant Review - Shiraz

Cursed restaurant spaces are one of the more perplexing phenomena of the restaurant world. We’ve all seen that doomed location where the restaurant changes hands over and over, never quite catching on. Maybe it starts out serving Thai food, but six months later (with the barest of makeovers), it’s a quiet French bistro that never fills to capacity, even on its busiest nights. Would-be customers often peek in the door, note the Christmas morning stillness of the dining room, discern the furrowed brow on the worried manager or owner and quickly shuffle away.

The space that now houses Shiraz seemed destined for a spot on the map of the accursed. It has two previously and swiftly failed ventures to its credit. But the jinx may be lifting.

Perched on the second level in an indistinguishable Alpharetta strip mall, the room still looks very much like its Floribbean-cum-Italian predecessor, Paradiso. A steel bar with a mirrored wall straight out of Chicago, a bold (read: gaudy) color scheme and a fish tank sparsely inhabited with flamboyant species all shriek Miami mafia. Only a wall-filling, gold sculpture/painting engraved with vaguely esoteric symbols hints at the Persian cuisine upon which patrons are about to feast.

Persian? Absolutely. Lustier than its milquetoast Middle Eastern hummus and tabbouleh cousins, yet more mellifluous than its curried Indian ancestors, Persian is one of the vastly under-explored cuisines in America. And the spread at Shiraz is the best way I’ve discovered in the Atlanta area to be indoctrinated into this sensual cooking.

It’s all about buffet at Shiraz. Don’t balk. I too have been burned by steam table travesties before. But you want this buffet. Promise.

The immaculate and polite host will offer you a menu when he seats you, but nearly everything on the list is available on the buffet, which costs $22 per person for lunch or dinner. And with many individual entrees priced between $14 and $18, it’s clear the management here wants you to go with the buffet as well.

“Would you like a tour?” asks a swarthy young server as I stand in front of the long table of food, snooping under steaming serving dishes and peering at bowls of creamy concoctions and fresh, simple nibblies. Names roll off his tongue like mystical words in a Rumi poem: Borani-e Esfenaj, Zerkeshk Polo, Must-o Khiar. I just nod my head and start filling my plate with dollops of this and that.

There are really three separate elements to a meal here, so take a divide-and-conquer approach. First round, sample the yogurt creations. There’s one that’s flavored with dried shallots that has appealing, intricate layers of sour, and another with spinach that has a warm, mellow taste that beats the pants off the mayonnaisey spinach dip served at college parties. Grab some walnuts, cubes of feta and sprigs of mint and basil. Those are to be eaten with the hot, crackery bread called lavash that a waiter will whisk out to the table wrapped in cloth. When it’s freshly made, it’s the dipping tool of your dreams. A smoothly spiced, worlds-better-than-baba ghanoush eggplant number that both excites and soothes the palate is often available as well (selections rotate daily). Pace yourself, now. You’re only a third of the way through the meal.

Next round: slowly simmered stews with rice. The stews are dark and fragrant, often scented with saffron. I’ve tried a spinach, kidney beans and beef variation similar to Indian saag and a sweet and sour combination of chicken, lentils, onions and raisins. A famous dish known as Fesenjoon is baked chicken simmered in a sauce of pomegranate and walnut. The first time you taste it, you may pause while your memory roots around to find a comparison, only to conclude there really is none. Nutty, fruity, earthy, sweet — the sauce is like a pesto made from exotic trail mix.

On one visit, there were massive lamb shanks, barely scented with cinnamon, in a light broth. Ridiculously tender chunks of meat were falling off prehistoric-looking bones as we placed them on our plate. Pebbles? Bam-Bam? Time for dinner, kids ...

It’s around the time that you’re scraping your plate clean from the last round that the kitchen brings out the final course: a large platter of kebabs, including chicken, lamb, three kinds of beef cuts and slices of grilled veggies. They look lovely in their neat rows, but after all the other complex and varied flavors and textures, they tend to quickly get monotonous after a few bites. You’ll appreciate them more the next day for lunch.

There’s even something novel about the tea, which is really the only thing to order after that waist-stretching meal. It’s served with dried mulberries and long golden raisins, and the idea is to chew the fruit, which acts as a sweetener, while sipping the tea. Chew, sip, chew, sip. Ahhh.

Shiraz rocks out on the weekends when crowds come out to gorge themselves and watch the inevitable belly dancer gyrate amongst the tables. Weekday nights are more subdued, but it seems things have turned around for this particular location. The only cursing seems to emanate from the overstuffed customers, waddling out to their cars to return home and pop some Alka-Seltzer.