Tom Doorley has a bellyful of good food at a Turkish restaurant in Dublin
There are certain things about restaurants that put me right off. Kangaroo, crocodile and the like. Ostrich, to be fair, might be local, but it has never tasted particularly exciting to me. Too lean, probably.
And live music. It interferes with the food and, more importantly, the conversation. Then there's language. Show me a restaurant that offers a "symphony" of seafood and I reckon I can show you a place to avoid. Menus with twirly italic script, like you get on wedding invitations, are another feature that tends to repel me.
And belly dancers. I've nothing against belly dancers as such. I bet some of them are quite alluring. It's belly dancers in restaurants that bother me. Too distracting - they may be there to deflect attention from the grub.
Layla has a belly dancer occasionally, but she would need to be extra special to detract from its scrumptious Turkish food. Not having seen her in action, I can't give you chapter and verse, I'm afraid.
Layla used to be the Pembroke Restaurant, and, bar a few Turkish flourishes, it's much the same set of rooms, located above the eponymous pub. I popped in for the amazingly cheap lunch a few weeks ago - grilled lamb cubes, salad, chips and flat bread for €5) and decided to return for something fuller blown.
Dinner was a much grander affair. Our platter of meze was so generous and the lavache bread so delicious that they were plenty for two. We lapped up rich hummus (not much lemon, but lots of tahini); a smoky, creamy aubergine dip; tender beans sharply dressed with lemon, oil, red onion, parsley and olives; borek (cigarettes of crisp filo containing salty feta and fresh parsley); mini kebabs of lamb; and little meat balls in a cumin-scented sauce. Each element was a delight.
Main courses, delicious as they were, caused us to struggle. Adana - beef and lamb minced together and scented with what seemed to be thyme and possibly oregano, with a hint of lemon, then grilled on skewers - was jumping with flavour and not too lean. You need some fat in the mix to baste it as it cooks.
Incik, or lamb shank, slowly cooked and meltingly tender, served in a rich and mildly spiced gravy, was exceptional. Lamb shank used to be big on Irish menus when it was a cheap cut, but all too often it was cooked well ahead and reheated, yielding an unmistakable greasy taste. This lamb shank was clearly freshly prepared.
Desserts such as incir tatlisi (figs filled with walnuts), kayisi tatlisi (apricots with almonds), kadayif (shredded filo with ground walnuts and honey) and muhallebi (a milk pudding) sounded great but were quite beyond us.
Instead, we settled for Turkish coffee - "unique because your fortune can be told by looking in the cup" - with just a hint of sugar. It was very hot, very strong, with a faintly musty aroma but no caffeine shock; I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to sleep until the small hours, but the effects were surprisingly gentle.
With a bottle of excellent Argentinian Malbec and far too much food for two, the bill came to less than €100. This restaurant, unique of its kind in Dublin, is run by a charming and hard-working team of Turks. It is busy at weekends but almost eerily quiet earlier in the week.
They have been slaving away for over a year and deserve a loyal following. Lesser restaurants in central Dublin do a roaring trade. I hope this is not because we are a deeply conservative people; the food here is different and lovingly prepared. Layla deserves a better response than this, and I will certainly be back.
If you want to avoid, or catch, the belly dancer, she operates on Fridays and Saturdays, from 8.30pm. For me, the lamb shank would take precedence.
Layla, 31 Lower Pembroke Street, Dublin 2, 01-6622566
WINE CHOICE The only Turkish wine I've tasted is called Buzbag, and it was as unpleasant as it sounds. Layla, happily, confines the list to wines from other countries. Our Pascual Toso Malbec (€24) was rich, plummy and very decent value. Other highlights of the very short and not exactly exciting list include Backsberg Chenin Blanc, from the Cape, at €19, Jean Durup Chablis, at €28, Cousino-Macul Cabernet Sauvignon, at €25, and a Prosecco, at €24. Bottled beers hover around €4.50, and if you're brave enough there's aniseed-flavoured raki for €38 a bottle (I dare you) or €2.90 a glass.