Omnivore - Get in Ma Mouth: Pita Edition

• Brad Kaplan

This is not what I was anticipating. When I first heard about Yalla, the new Middle Eastern food stand at Krog Street Market, I was eager to see what chef Todd Ginsberg and baker Robert Alexander could do with pita, laffa, falafel, and shawarma. If they could make a sabich like the one I had in Tel Aviv this past summer, I would be supremely happy. If they could do with hummus what they've done with pastrami at the General Muir, I would be thrilled. But when I got to Krog Street Market for my first visit to Yalla last week, I didn't even order falafel, or hummus, or sabich. I felt compelled to order a daily special that sounded so confoundingly strange (and outside expectations) that I couldn't not order it.

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This dish didn't have a name, but the ingredient list read like a head-on collision of a Southern soul food truck and a pita delivery man. From the Southern side, there was sweet potato, turnip green stems, and crunchy pork cracklins. The pita man brought the pita itself, plus a spread of thick labne (strained yogurt). This type of collision is not one that would be found in Tel Aviv, or Turkey, or Timbuktu for that matter... only in Atlanta, and only from the mind of a chef trying to make sense of serving Middle Eastern standards in the South in a way that respects both sources of inspiration. Is it way too hipster to call it locavorish, Southern soul-ish, Middle Eastern?

I watched as my pita was being built in front of me. First, the lady behind the counter picked up the pita, made daily in the bakery at the General Muir. It was thin, delicate, dainty even. I feared tremendously for its life, like each dab of labne or stuffing of sweet potato might tear its skin and reduce it to ruin. But that pita held, the lightly-browned dough apparently stronger and more pliable than its dainty appearance would indicate. In went the soft, peeled sweet potato and the dense spread of labne. On went the dark bits of garlic-laden, fried pork skin (hint: this is not a kosher establishment). Sprigs of cilantro, swirls of frisee, soft stalks of pickled turnip stems. My curiosity continued - would this really work?

She handed it over, wrapped in paper, and I took a bite. And that head-on collision of Southern soul and pliable pita made perfect sense - the mingling of flavors and textures and sources of inspiration simply fell into a form of cross-continental, harmonic convergence. A little sweet, a little sour, a little crunchy, a little smooth and creamy. I didn't need to try the sabich today. I was happy.

When I got home, I emailed Ginsberg and Alexander. How did this come together? Ginsberg simply stated that he was trying to "work with small farms and fit them in to a Middle Eastern concept in Atlanta." He said, "we want Yalla to be a modern American restaurant whose foundation is from the Middle East, but, just as importantly, it's a modern American restaurant in Atlanta." So far, so good.

As for your chances of seeing this particular sweet potato special again, Ginsberg offered that it depends, "(on) what and when the farms bring in to the restaurant."