Chez es Saada

Interview, Jan, 1998 by Brad Goldfarb

For those of you who sometimes wish your early life had been filled with more panache, here's the more who's as comfortable telling you the proper way to climb aboard a camel as she is urging you to eat your Brussels sprouts. if Auntie Mame herself had bid farewell to the uptown security of her Beekman Place duplex for the more adventuresome charm of an East Village row house, Chez es Saada is where she would have set up camp. Chances are, you'll want to, too. And with its sweep of colorful ceramic tiles, moody Moroccan lanterns, and red and white rose petals scattered about the floor, who could blame you? Step inside this nondescript former schoolhouse and leave the colorless expanse of the New York City winter behind you.

The sense of contentment that visitors to Chez es Saada exude - whether they be in the pleasant parlor-level bistro, or in the bar and adjacent dining rooms on the floor below - speaks to the restaurant's ability to make its guests feel utterly attended to (on each of my successive visits, two of the owners, Michael O'Brien and Robert McIlroy, could be seen moving from table to table, checking on their customers and making sure that everything was running smoothly). There is no need for posing or scene making here - everyone feels quite fabulous enough just having such easy access to a one-way ticket out of winter, thank you very much. Diners can choose between the traditional dining room and the Moroccan-style one, with its low-slung tables and chairs. The latter is more festive and atmospheric, though don't book in this room if you plan on any serious conversation: Confessions made in a reclining position may work in your therapist's office, but here, in competition with the festive din of your fellow diners and the wail of North African music, they'll be entirely missed. Then again, if you sample too many of the excellent house cocktails (put the rose-colored Parisien at the top of that list) before being seated, reclining may be your only option.

Unlike many restaurants that recall the ease of summer, Chez es Saada comes alive in the colder months, when its warm rooms and French-Moroccan fare are at their most inviting. What could be more comforting than a plate of melt-away phyllo pastries filled with spinach and fontina cheese, or a buttery chicken-liver pate sweetened with a shallot marmalade and served alongside a pile of hot-from-the-grill toast triangles? Well, the plump broiled snails dripping with garlic and butter, for one, or the phyllo-wrapped shrimp served around a small mountain of well-dressed Caesar salad. And in case you still haven't fully ridden your angst, there's always the soup du jour - on at least two recent visits, creamy and rich with the mother's-milk combination of butter, vegetables, and seasonings - to convince you that someone out there really does have your well-being at heart.

By now, with all those hard edges visibly softening, there's only one thing to do: Surrender . . . to a lightly grilled, phyllo-wrapped chicken pie with the comforting bite of artichoke, zucchini, and a generous drizzling of lemon butter; sea bass, typically prosaic, here all dressed up with almonds and vinegar; or a bowl of braised lamb chunks in a honey-and-ginger-flavored brown sauce. On one occasion, the duck special served with spicy lamb sausage was warming and wonderful on a bed of couscous; on another the complementary flavors of the meats had largely disappeared. The steak frites, however, was a consistent reminder of the old saying that the simple route can often lead to the greatest satisfactions.

With that in mind, dessert is best limited to either the traditional Moroccan offerings or the sorbet. The latter offers a burst of welcome fruitiness (though on one visit it came flecked with chunks of ice), while the nutty, honey-covered phyllo pastries filled with almond paste are powerfully sweet, yet confoundingly light. Order a plate of them with the idea of trying just one and you will fail - they're too good to leave even one behind. Too bad, because unlike your own mother, the only foil-wrapped goodies Chez es Saada will send you home with are the ones you've bought and paid for.