First time we walked into Omar Khayyam three years ago by accident when on a regular pilgrimage to Brighton our go-to boardwalk usual has tanked low with food and service.
For a small, packed with customers restaurant, Omar Khayyam seated us surprisingly quick and easy.
Looking through the menu, I said something about liver being my favorite when the entire restaurant turned to me and from almost each table there was:
— You must order their liver. You won’t find it better anywhere.
My American husband was taken aback with such push. I wasn’t — these were my people.
Was it true about the liver? Yes, it was — luxuriously soft on inside and crispy seared on the outside, perfectly seasoned, steak-like earthy, and slightly sweet. None of the bitterness, dry chew, or metallic aftertaste that puts people off. As a matter of fact, a year later, I used out of state firends as an excuse to make another trip to Brighton for that liver.
On a second visit, I had another craving — cucumber salad Navruz. Good cucumber salad is not easy. Cucumbers either sit separately from the dressing or become floppy-soggy in a few moments once touched with salt. None of that here. Existing organically with sour cream, cucumbers remained firm and snappy like radishes they were paired with.
On our third visit, a couple of weeks ago, liver, Navruz, and now lamb skewers were a must. Not sure which of the three was the best. Probably lamb ribs — tender, glistening with just a touch of fat. Although lamb meat and beef ones were not far behind.
Over the three visits, we tried a few things here and none was a disappointment: juicy gigantic manty,
full of broth piping hot crispy chebureck,
tender tongue perfectly paired with horseradish,
fat firm silky herring.
Their tomato salad was room temperature and tasted like actual tomatoes, not like a cold red plastic I am now accustomed to.
Homestyle potatoes — precooked and fried to a crisp — were perfect with fried mushrooms
or julienned ones.
Soup kharcho was delicious, rich but not fatty.
We took a chance at their pilaf which we never order in a restaurant. Good pilaf is tricky — it can be too dry, too greasy, lacking meat, with undercooked or overcooked rice, mushy carrots, oversalted, underseasoned. Portions can be so large and heavy they don’t leave the room for anything else. Pilaf here checked all the boxes perfect.
On our last visit, we even ordered a compote which we never would if wasn’t for a friend who came with us and wanted to try. Honestly, I would call it mors for its red color, tang, and just a faint of sweetness. Sugary compots of my childhood I am now staying away from were a bit different.
The restaurant credits itself as Modern European, Middle Eastern, Uzbek, Tajik. They are all that. But to me it was Back-to-the-USSR place, as this is where I am from. They have Georgian kharcho and Tabaka, Uzbek pilaf and manty, Ukrainian borscht and vareniki, Russian beef stroganoff and okroshka, Tatar cheburek, Armenian khash, popular everywhere along the silk road non, lagman, samsa, shurpa, syuzma.
For us, it’s been three visits over three years — rarely we go to the same restaurant twice — and the quality of food did not go down. Neither did the service. Friendly, non-invasive, but present. They don’t seem to push anyone out when done but somehow everyone gets a table.
As a matter of fact, on our last visit, we had to wait by the door for some time. When tension on line started to build up, a young server came out and with a smile and a couple of friendly words to everyone he restored peace by the door in an instant.