Faryab

I told you, dear reader, I was two restaurants away from completing the top 100. You may not believe me and you'd have every reason. "What about the obscure places in Bethesda and Silver Spring," you say, examining the un-crossed-off items on my top 100 progress list. I'd say you are correct, that I have illustrated inadequate proof for the fact that I have visited these places and consumed foods there. I'd also submit, however, that if a place was either 1. mediocre or 2. exceptionally good, causing me to come home and immediately crawl in my bed around midnight, I didn't write it up in a timely fashion. Over the next few days, I'll attempt to prove to you that I ate at the rest.

The rest includes Faryab, an Afghan place in Bethesda I have struggled to visit because it's, well, what seems an interminably long distance away (when is it, in fact, 24 miles from home, which I'll say might as well be the real Faryab). It was, unsurprisingly in my lexicon, charming, with a host who seemed thrilled a lady was gracing his tables and a waiter who let me try one single spicy turnip, because I wasn't sure I could commit to a whole plateful. We did commit, however, to a plate full of mantu, steamed dumplings filled with ground beef and onions, one of the most redeeming dishes on an Afghan menu and especially good here.

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Don't believe me? Try an extra large digital image of mantu.

Next, we had a plate of Quabili Palau, seasoned chunks of lamb under a small mountain of spiced rice, sweet carrot strips and raisins. It was exquisite and much too rich, but perfectly balanced between savory, sweet, and Lamb. With a capital L.

To sample the full range of side dishes, we had Kadu, soft, stewed pumpkin with yogurt and a bit of meat; stewed eggplant with onions and tomato sauce (top right--it was silkily tender); and Sabsi, cooked spinach with garlic. The vegetables seemed vitamin-rich and virtuous, but were in fact vehicles for richness and dense yogurtness. We barely had room on our table, in addition to the salad, bread, and wine carafe.

 

Dear, dear wine carafe.

It was tasty--it felt local, hospitable, and full of homey foods. There was no pretension and a menu full of technicolor-bright foods. Not bad for #92.