Everyone’s banging on about “live fire” these days, like they invented charcoal – which is fine by me, because some of them are running the best restaurants in the country – but it’s worth noting that the Turks have been at it for centuries.
At Sofra, the charcoal mangal runs hot behind glass – metal skewers resting inches from the coals, fat dripping to ash. Chopped lamb, minced lamb and chicken wings are stacked next to trays of pilaf, aubergine, tomato, tubs of dip and dolmas. With the Adana turning on the grill, the aroma hits you as you walk in.
A stainless-steel cold station sits to the left of our table, loaded with dips, pickles, salads and sauces held in chilled trays.
The room is long and narrow, glass-fronted, fluorescent-bright. You can see straight in from the pavement. Home-made ayran whirrs in a processor on the counter – a slow swirl of yoghurt and salt.
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Inside, it’s part cafe, part canteen. Patterned tiles run the length of the floor. The brown leatherette banquettes and chairs are padded, the tables speckled stone – it’s clean, durable and designed to be comfortable, but not built for lingering.
Sofra’s core menu runs on charcoal – skewered meats from the mangal served with rice or bulgur, two mezes, and salad – with the same proteins folded into dürüm wraps or rotated through hot counter specials, followed by soup, mezes and sides, add-ons, kids’ menu, desserts, drinks and breakfast.
We have ordered two mezes separately, the dolmas and babaganush, (€4 each); all other mezes come as sides to the two main courses, acılı adana (€16) and beyti (€18).
[ Baba’de restaurant review: You won’t eat like this anywhere else in IrelandOpens in new window ]
Shepherd’s salad is first – tomato, cucumber, onion, parsley, olive oil and isoc, sharp and fresh with real heat and a touch of sweetness. Babaganush is smoky in the right way – strands of roasted aubergine left intact, creamy but not slicked into paste. The hummus is thick and honest, made with chickpeas that taste soaked and cooked, not tipped out of a tin and tamed with garlic.
Next to them, dolmas – stuffed vine leaves, lemony and cold – are stacked beside dried aubergine and pepper, shrivelled and dark from rehydration. Acılı means spicy in Turkish and the ezme, a salsa-style dish, is very lively, a finely chopped salad of roast peppers, crushed tomatoes and onions, laced with spice and herbs. There’s a proper cacık – thick yoghurt with shaved cucumber – and a purple cabbage salad with raw carrot and lemon.
The acılı Adana comes on a single metal plate – two long, rippled ridges of minced lamb, hand-shaped and blackened in places where the fat has caught fire. It sits on folded flatbread that’s soaking up everything, beside a mound of orange bulgur, half a grilled tomato and one long, collapsed green chilli. The seasoning is perfect – spicy, heavy on the pepper, restrained on the salt – and the mangal char is deep and even. It is smoky, juicy and completely compelling.
The Beyti is even better. A lavash-wrapped kebab is sliced into even sections, each piece toasted and slightly crisp, topped with buttered tomato sauce and served with a cool pool of thick yoghurt. The sauce isn’t sweet – it’s savoury, low-acid, dense with paprika and a little fat. You get bite from the lavash, depth from the lamb, and softness from the yoghurt – a plate built on temperature, texture and restraint.
The bean stew – kuru fasulye – is a dish of white beans, slow-cooked with tomato, oil and chunks of tender lamb. It’s simple, but that’s the point. The beans are cooked through without collapsing, the broth has body and there’s enough spice and oil to bring the whole thing above warm and comforting.
We drink ayran and şalgam (€2.50 each). The ayram is a salty yoghurt-based drink, and the şalgam is a tangy, salty drink made from fermented purple carrots, turnips and bulgur, with savoury flavours. They both work well with the food.
Dessert is katmer. It arrives sliced into triangles, dusted with pistachios, fanned along an oval plate. A fine dusting of sugar has created a shellac-like top layer on the papery phyllo pastry, which is filled with clotted cream. It is quite lovely with a complimentary cup of Turkish tea.
What Sofra serves isn’t new, but the precision is rare. The heat, the seasoning, the casual pacing. I get that not everyone loves a kebab shop. But I do. And I’ll be back to work through the rest of the menu.
Dinner for three with two drinks was €71.
The verdict: 8.5/10 Charcoal mangal, standout Adana and beyti, and excellent meze.
Food provenance: Lamb and beef, O’Farrell Meats; chicken (not free range), K & H Poultry.
Vegetarian options: Mezes, eg dolma, sarma, çiğ köfte, falafel, and mercimek (lentil soup).
Wheelchair access: Fully accessible with an accessible toilet.
Music: Pharrell, Amy Winehouse and Turkish tunes.
