Secret Central Asian food

inside a lil' Turkish place

Hello, everyone! Did you have a good weekend?

Davida and I were out running errands one day (I was picking stuff up for my primary newsletter, Food is Stupid) and I was starting to get crabby out of hunger. We were wandering around North Center on foot, not too far from Laschet’s Inn, when we decided to head to Orange Gardens, which is Chicago’s oldest Chinese restaurant.

But on our way down Irving Park, we found an unassuming little storefront with its blinds mostly drawn. When we looked up at the restaurant banner above the door, we saw it said “iCafe” on it. I initially assumed that stood for “internet cafe.” But the display on the front door indicated that there was Turkish food to be had inside, and after a little look at each other, we knew our original plans had changed.

iCafe in North Center serves Turkish food, but there’s a secret.

After we got settled at our table, we knew something was up. I’m no linguist (though I speak Korean and Spanish), but none of the languages spoken at any of the other tables sounded like Turkish. In fact, everyone aside from Davida, who’s White, looked somewhat like me.

I turned and looked around. Davida quietly motioned at a person sitting at another table, whose back was turned to us.

His bright red jacket had the words “Kyrgyz Republic” written on the back. Mystery solved.

We’d slipped into a Turkish restaurant that we soon discovered didn’t only sell Turkish food, though there were plenty of dishes on the menu like doner kebabs and breakfast spreads.

I felt obligated to order something Turkish, so we got an order of the lahmacun, which was a more-than-reasonable $5.49 (pictured up top). Its crust was ultra-thin and cracker-like, with seasoned ground meat on top. I’m going to confess, it was the first time I’d had lahmacun (I especially butchered the name when I asked for it, it’s “lamajun,” not “lamakhoon”), but I loved the way it was spiced, especially after we added a fat spritz of lemon and a sliver of raw onion on top.

Many people refer to lahmacun as a sibling to pizza, likely because of its form factor, but in spirit, it’s its own creature.

One of Davida’s favorite foods of all time are dumplings, which is why we ordered the manty ($15).

These huge Kyrgyz dumplings came filled with beef and onions, with a slightly larger-sized mince than I’m used to, which made for an interesting texture. Manty are roughly related to Korean mandu (you can even see it in the spelling of the name). They were already terrific on their own, but the sour cream on the side made them even better by adding a smooth dose of dairy fat to each bite.

Heh, maybe I should start dipping my family’s mandu in sour cream and see what they say. I may be disowned, so if you see me crying on the street, you know what happened.

The plov ($15) was a plate full of very aromatic long grain rice with the occasional chunk of beef mixed in.

That rice was fluffy, soft, and delicious, especially because the seasoning was so balanced. And since none of the grains stick to each other, you’re able to get the maximum amount of flavor in every forkful, since they dissipate lightly through your mouth as you chew.

If you say the word “plov” out loud, you’ll notice that it sounds like “pilaf.” That’s because it is in fact, pilaf. A pilaf is defined as rice that’s cooked in broth (rather than simply water), sometimes supplemented with additional herbs and spices for extra flavor. Variations of pilaf exist practically everywhere, this one just happens to be the Central Asian version.

We absolutely demolished the kuurdak ($17), which is a Kyrgyz dish that felt roughly like pot roast to us.

It was stewed beef in gravy with baby potatoes, served with raw red onions and a vinegary slightly spicy carrot salad, which is based off Korean cuisine. My friend Leela wrote about the salad in 2010, and she too was as smitten with it as we were.

Maybe it’s because it’s winter, but damn, that kuurdak really hit just right. The beef was tender and savory, and we cleared that whole plate in no time.

We’re not usually dessert people, but the homemade honey cake ($5.65) is a great capper to your meal if you want something that’s not overly sweet.

It resembles a crepe cake, except the layers are extremely delicate sheet cake alternated with a sweet cream. The honey flavor comes in delicately at the end of each bite, and this would be a great snack to have with Turkish tea or coffee, which are both offered on the menu. From what I understand, this is a difficult pastry to make, so be sure to appreciate it for what it is, especially for under $6.

iCafe is a little more confusing than I’d previously understood, and not just because of all the unexpected Central Asian food on the menu. Apparently there used to be (or still are?) two sides to the place, iCafe and a second restaurant called Pide Ve Lahmacun that caters to different customers. I only learned this after mentioning it to my managing editor at The Takeout, Marnie Shure. She’d been there before, but didn’t know of the iCafe portion.

Davida and I didn’t see any physical indications of anything other iCafe in that storefront, but Yelp says Pide Ve Lahmacun is still operating, so I’m still somewhat confused. If any of you understand how this all works, let me know in the comments.

Oh, and the spelling: For the ease of my little fingers, I’ve been referring to it as “iCafe,” but the restaurant calls itself “I-Cafe,” “iCafe,” and “i-Café Sukur’s Place” in locations like its website.

Davida and I promised ourselves we’d go back. I think we’ll probably end up trying the various kebabs we missed, along with the pide (a filled Turkish flatbread), which looked solid. But it was mostly a good reminder to us that you don’t have to exhaustively research every place to eat at on the internet, and sometimes, you should just walk in, sit down, and eat.

iCafe, I-Cafe, i-Café Sukur’s Place, whatever you wish to call it
1814 W Irving Park Rd
Chicago, IL 60613
(773) 755-4022

Hours: 11 a.m. - 11 p.m. everyday except Tuesday (closed)

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