Editor’s note: ala announced on July 19, 2024, that the restaurant would close to make changes and reopen on July 26, 2024. Read more here.
It’s a pretty safe bet that if there’s an assortment of spreads offered on a menu, I’ll be schmearing and dipping with abandon in short order. Such is the case at ala, the Levantine restaurant that opened in the space occupied by the beloved Italian mainstay Positano for 44 years. I happily tear apart pieces of warm pita bread encrusted with za’atar seasoning and lap up silken hummus topped with dried figs and apricots; labneh topped with za’atar and olive oil; baba ghanouj adorned with dill pesto, pumpkin seeds and pomegranate seeds; and a puree of roasted butternut squash, tahini and harissa (spicy red chile paste) with a sprinkle of chopped pistachios. The dried fruits’ sweetness, the eggplant’s char, the harissa’s piquancy and the crunch of the nuts detonate bursts of flavor and texture, delightful accompaniments to a tart martini made with pickle juice and dill-infused gin.
This is the second location of ala for Cabin John residents Deniz and Celal Gulluoglu. An architect job for Celal with a Fairfax, Virginia, firm brought the Gulluoglus to the U.S. from their native Istanbul in 2016. (Deniz is a writer.) They fell into the restaurant business when friends of theirs wanted out of it, asking the Gulluoglus to take over their restaurant Ankara in Washington’s Dupont Circle neighborhood, which they did in 2021. They added dishes to the Turkish menu to reflect the wider Levantine region (Israel, Syria, Palestine, Lebanon, Jordan, Egypt and others) and changed the name to ala, which means “mixed colors” in Turkish, reflecting the melting pot nature of the cuisine.
Celal, who owns the D.C.-based architecture and design firm AAG Interiors and Design, is largely responsible for ala Bethesda’s look. Its exterior—bright white stucco accented with Mediterranean blue wooden shutters and doors and a charming patio that seats 30—brings to mind houses found on Greek islands. The interior of the 4,000-square-foot restaurant, which seats 110, including 12 at the bar, recalls its predecessor. “We originally intended to demo it completely and start over,” Celal says, “but every time we went to the space, people would stop us outside, ask what we were going to do to it and tell us stories about graduations, kids’ marriages and baby showers there. We realized we should keep the decor and modernize it a little.” So Positano’s terra cotta floors and faux balcony with a clay-tiled roof remain. So do its grotto-like walls—now white stucco instead of amber colored—with built-in shelving to store and display wine bottles. Bric-a-brac abounds—enormous glass jars filled with faux produce (lemons, pomegranates, garlic heads); an old cash register; amphoras filled with wine corks. Murals of the Amalfi coast are out; faux columns and olives trees with artificial birds wired onto branches are in. Swags of green, gold and burgundy fabric hang from the exposed ceiling, draped from its black metal infrastructure. Mid-century modern upholstered side chairs in turquoise and mustard add flair.
Zack Baker, whose resume includes stints at Xiquet, Del Mar and Zaytinya in Washington, is the corporate chef for both ala locations, splitting his time between them, which could explain some inconsistencies in the food. Whereas I enthusiastically enjoy the spreads and a generously portioned appetizer of large sauteed shrimp in a tangy, smoky, mildly piquant tomato sauce redolent of Turkish urfa pepper, the tiny manti (Turkish dumplings) are disappointing. They’re supposedly filled with white beans, roasted mushrooms, horseradish and truffles—promising distinctive flavors. All I can discern is dough. Dense disks of chickpea falafel attractively presented on a swath of tahini and topped with pickled vegetables and sprigs of fresh mint and dill are lackluster. A better option is fattoush salad, a pretty gathering of radicchio, pumpkin seeds, roasted butternut squash, red onions, sliced pears and radishes in a Dijon mustard and sumac dressing. (Note: ala’s menu alters according to the season. On the menu that went in after my meals there, strawberries, asparagus and peas replaced butternut squash on the fattoush, for example.)
For entrees, kebabs are a good option. The server is quick to explain that the one made with lamb tenderloin (lokum kebab), which comes with herb salad and braised cabbage, is seasoned only with salt and pepper, not herbs, per the Turkish fashion. It is tender and flavorful, but I’m glad I hedge the bet by asking for sides of toum (whipped garlic fluff) and harissa as flavor boosters. Tawook (chicken) shish kebab is moist and flavorful even if it’s made with chicken breast instead of thigh meat, as the menu states. This sort of change happens frequently. Delicious and beautifully cooked branzino (flown in from Turkey) with parsnip puree arrives pan-seared, not grilled as billed. A braised short rib that’s mostly fat is supposed to feature ras el hanout, but that bold North African spice mix made with coriander, cumin, ginger, cinnamon and other spices seems a no-show to me. The grilled eggplant puree that accompanies it is quite tasty, though. (No matter, the menu posted online as of this writing has switched in spice-rubbed rib-eye steak with bulgur salad for the short rib.)
Sumac ice cream for dessert—one of three offered—intrigues me but is 86ed on my visits. Pistachio baklava, brought in from Turkey weekly, is mercifully not drenched in syrup and has a slight but pleasant tang to it. “They use sheep milk ghee instead of cow butter. That’s the difference with Turkish baklava,” Celal says. Another winner is kunafa, a log of chewy, briny Egyptian akawi cheese (similar in texture to mozzarella) rolled in kataifi (shredded phyllo dough) and grilled like a kebab. It’s garnished with rose petals, chopped pistachios and drizzles of cherry sauce.
Service at ala is earnest but not polished. Items I order aren’t coursed on one occasion, with a food runner showing up at the table bearing entrees and a plaintive look for me to make room by shuffling around the appetizers that had arrived only moments before. I don’t notice a manager touching the tables to ask diners how things are going, kind of surprising at a restaurant new to the scene. Celal tells me that he and Deniz manage from the outside and go to the restaurant as customers, a strategy they might consider revisiting. Let me add—because it’s such a peeve—that the flimsy paper napkins offered at ala really downgrade the dining experience.
During the summer, the Gulluoglus plan to start building out a fast-casual Tex-Mex joint, a sports bar and possibly a rooftop dining area in the remaining 6,000 square feet of the building ala occupies. Hopefully, they will have ironed out the kinks at ala by then.
FAVORITE DISHES
Mixed spread assortment (hummus, baba ghanouj, labneh, squash); fattoush salad; branzino with grape vinegar; chicken kebab; kunafa (baked shredded phyllo and cheese pastry)
PRICES
Mezze: $12 to $22; Entrees: $22 to $36;
Desserts: $12 to $14
LIBATIONS
The beverage list includes 10 craft cocktails ($16), three zero-proof ($10), five bottled beers from Turkey, Palestine and Armenia ($12), seven draft beers ($10) and four anise-flavored Levantine libations (raki, ouzo and arak) for $14. The 15-bottle wine list features vintages from Palestine, Persia, Turkey, Lebanon and Israel: one sparkling ($105); two rosé/orange ($90); six white ($60 to $90) and six red ($70 to $100). Twenty-six wines are offered by the glass for $14: four sparkling; nine white; five rosé and eight red. There are also four wines by the glass infused with such flavors as mint and cucumber, pomegranate and elderflower ($12).
SERVICE
Attentive but needs polish
ala Bethesda
4948 Fairmont Ave., Bethesda
ala-dc.com
David Hagedorn is the restaurant critic for Bethesda Magazine.