Tabule Restaurant & Bar

Epicurious Eating: Tabule

Stay awhile at Tabule
by Frank Sabatini Jr.
Published Thursday, 24-Jul-2008 in issue 1074

The new Tabule is a relaxing, beautifully lit sanctuary in the heart of Downtown’s bustling Gaslamp District. Its Persian owners have applied a “living room” approach to design and service, meaning they are less interested in flipping tables than they are in ensuring a stay-awhile dining experience rare to this locale.
“When people are comfortable, they eat well and drink well,” professes Moe Sadighian, who recently launched the restaurant with his sister Moji and her husband after creating a menu so worldly that you’ll think Anthony Bourdain of the Travel Channel is lurking as food consultant.
And with an interior awash in sedating amber lighting, which dramatically frames an onyx bar and an eye-level fireplace built into the rear wall, you might also suspect that a playhouse stage designer is part of the team. High-backed banquettes constructed in square leather panels and dark wood flooring inject further warmth into this contemporary (but not over-the-top trendy) scheme.
Tabule plays off the Arabic word for salad, actually spelled tabouleh. But Sadighian dropped the “o” and the “h” from the title as to not mislead customers into thinking that the restaurant serves only Middle Eastern fare. In fact, the minty parsley-bulgur tabouleh is the only item on his lengthy menu that you’ll find from that region – and it’s pleasingly robust. The rest of it sends you packing to Asia, France, Italy, Mexico, back to California and then you name it.
Tabule’s starter list is big, and grows bigger when you amend to it eight different ceviches, all served with dry-grilled corn tortillas that looked and tasted to us like freshly toasted flatbread. A yummy Persian influence applied?
Of the ceviches, my companion and I tried three of them – each made to order and separately using tuna, salmon and Chilean white sea bass. The tuna ceviche was heavy in cucumbers and black olives; the salmon was punctuated with mango, cilantro and sesame seeds; and the sea bass offered a snap from serrano chilies. But all shared in common acidic redundancy from citrus, salt and perhaps vinegar, making it difficult to distinguish one seafood from another. Each tasted bright and refreshing, but we soon realized that one ceviche under our noses would’ve been enough.
We globetrotted through numerous other starters before advancing to our entrees. Mesquite shrimp tacos were filled with sweet, chopped shrimp cloaked in a mild tomato sauce. The “mesquite” was less detectable compared to the novel addition of buttery Port Salut cheese tucked into the mini tortillas. Filet mignon carpaccio was fine, the raw slices of beef enlivened by a touch of balsamic vinaigrette and a few triangular slices of mellow Parmesan cheese.
We were particularly fond of the Thai baby back ribs, which tasted more Southwestern than Asian. The ribs are double cooked for extra tenderness and moistened with serrano jelly and soy-mango reduction. They’re the tastiest I’ve eaten all summer.
Tabule’s version of shrimp bisque is also outstanding. It offers depth from pureed carrots and red onions, which act as a sweetener to the creamy liquid housing discernible pieces of the seafood. Because the kitchen doesn’t have a freezer and receives fresh food shipments every couple of days, the labor-intensive bisque isn’t (and shouldn’t be) made in huge quantities, thus it’s offered only weekly as a special.
French onion soup revealed a radical departure from the American-French standby, using a broth brazen with laurel and tarragon that upstaged the caramelized onions. Furthermore, the soup is crowned with mozzarella rather than the classic combo of Swiss and Gruyere. We liked it, but I remain a stickler for the standard, non-renaissance recipe.
From a wine list that swings from inexpensive cabernet by Kenwood to Napa Valley Opus One, we gambled on something new to our palates, an Australian “presidential select” sirah from Wolf Blass; this after slugging pear and pomegranate martinis that tasted as though we had sunk our muzzles directly into those luscious fruits.
The wine’s balanced tannins and open fruit struck a faultless match to my companion’s entrée – filet mignon medallions laced in mushroom-pepper reduction that celebrated rather than killed the essence of the meat. I’m not sure if the beef was prime-grade, but it far exceeded in quality a filet that I ate recently at a top-name steakhouse.
My main course, a chicken breast wrapped in slightly overcooked prosciutto, earned its kudos from sweet fig reduction that nicely complimented the saltiness of the cured ham. The moist breast basically stood as a quiet witness to the ambitious flavor dichotomy.
For dessert we savored two different tarts – date and apricot served with addicting vanilla ice cream. I especially liked the profusion of nuts in the tarts, a reflection of the owner’s Middle Eastern roots.
Service was hospitable, with the cordial owners jumping in the social fray when the place filled up. Although even during increased occupancy, we felt soothed by the restaurant’s exquisite atmosphere. And our affable waiter, Mario, was keen to tableside details without having to try. We liked him right off the bat.
For all of the lambasting the Gaslamp receives, and much of it justified, we trudged back to our vehicle through the thicket of overrated restaurants mapping out our schedule for an inevitable return visit.

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