| rev:text
| - This was possible the most laughably obscure dining experiences of my life.
I wanted to like this place so much.
If there was one food I could eat for the rest of my life, I would probaly choose borscht, and maybe lamb kebabs. This place has both, and desperate to flex my Russian language and culture muscles in Phoenix, I went into this restaurant on a Saturday afternoon to grab a menu to find the place completely empty. We left to go shopping and returned over two hours later to find this place still empty, but we sat down after the great reviews, and my over-powering love for Russian and Middle Eastern food. No one greeted us, and we stood in the doorway calling, "Hello?" at an increasing volume. After several minutes I wandered into the kitchen and asked if they are open, to the disgruntled and seemingly annoyed owners that said yes.
The lady that I assume was the owner was very nice, she helped us navigate around the bread menu and recommended the Kompot, which was a little sweeter than I have experienced before, but was still decent. Her husband in the kitchen was yelling at her the entire time not fifteen feet from our table, and I never complain about ambience, but even this bothered me.
The borscht came, which was large chunks of beets cut into thirds, and carots nearly whole boiled in water. I know I am used to the creamy Saint Petersburg borscht and this is more of an Uzbek restaurant, but it was so flavorless and disappointing I had to add table salt to the clear pink broth (and I really hate salt). The lamb was all gristle and fat, and the chicken was very dry. I asked the owner/our server if she had any sour cream for the borscht. She looked at me with a blank stare without saying anything, so I asked the same question in Russian, to which she stared at me as if I was a moron that asked her for a golden pony. She said no, and disappeared into the kitchen without a word.
Halfway through the meal a young woman came into the restaurant and started speaking frantically to me, in a language that was neither English or Russian. She grabs my arm and starts to corral me towards the kitchen (as I am still mid bite, chewing) and places what I think was a business card in my hand and yells at me pointing, to what I assume was a command to give it to the owner. After I swallow and get past my initial moment of absolute puzzlement of why I have to do this, I notify the owner that someone is looking for her, and walk back to my table, very confused. The owner screams at the girl until she runs out the door, and without pause or apology, refills our water glasses with a smile.
I will break from my story to address the decor in which everyone seems to be upset about. It was probably on of my favorite aspects of the dining experience. Blue ocean wallpapers and mirrors gave this small restaurant a unique and more open feel, and it felt distinctly like Uzbekistan. It was certaintly not a 5 star dining experience, so who expects the decor to match?
So after we paid and left, we mumbled with a confused laugh that the dining experience was...well, an experience, but I will probably not return. I reviewed this a few months late, so perhaps they have gotten their act together, or maybe just came on a very peculiar day? Nevertheless, I will probably not return and just make my own Russian food at home.
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