The Majids never have food delivered.
They grow their food with care,
handpick fresh produce everyday
and cook it themselves.
The Majids never have food delivered.
They grow their food with care,
handpick fresh produce everyday
and cook it themselves.
If the saying “You are what you eat” holds true, then Waiel Majid, co-owner of Zatar’s restaurant in Berkeley, would be a ripe date. Dates are one of the world’s oldest cultivated fruits (grown for 8,000 years) and Waiel loves them. He grew up in Iraq, climbing the Barhi, Khadrawi, and Halawi palms of Baqubah, a riverside town 40 miles northeast of Baghdad. As a child, he sat atop the tall trees, perched like a young prince, eating every date he could find. He shared the bounty with the doves whose beaks were sticky with fruit. If it weren’t for the pomegranates and watermelons below, Waiel would have had no reason to abandon his arboreal life.
Waiel is now a California resident, where the dates are once again in season. This could explain why he and his wife Kelly always seem to be smiling. I realized this after tasting their homemade date-and-cardamom ice cream — a succulent yet spicy mixture laden with candied walnuts and swirled with fresh organic Madjool dates foraged from a grower at the Berkeley Farmers Market. The ancient fruit had the texture and sweetness of caramel, and the cardamom left a fleeting impression of honeysuckle and pepper. The walnuts added an earthy crunch and the dates crowned the dish. The dessert made me smile, too, as did everything that came before it.
Eclectic Mediterranean
Like the food it serves, Zatar’s is a hidden gem in downtown Berkeley. But the Majid’s half-acre organic garden behind their Oakland home is their mother lode. It fuels the menu and supplies much of the food and inspiration. All the rest comes from local organic growers and purveyors of sustainably raised meat. Zatar’s doesn’t serve beef or pork, but Neiman Ranch lamb and organic Rosie chickens appear on the menu, along with varieties of fish Waiel finds at the Monterey Fish Market. The Majids never have food delivered. They grow their food with care, handpick fresh produce everyday and cook it themselves — a truly rare find, even in the sometimes picky world of Bay Area restaurateurs.
“This is like our home,” says Kelly, surrounded by candles and her collection of colorful Mediterranean plates that adorn the walls like a Greek taverna. “We really like to cook and do everything ourselves. As a result, the quality is always consistent and people recognize that.”
Waiel returns from the market with sardines and sushi-grade halibut. The evening’s special appetizer would be grilled sardines stuffed with sumac, garlic, parsley, lemon zest and ground cumin seeds wrapped like mummies in grape leaves — his own creation. Waiel dashes into the kitchen and returns with a pinch of sumac and a pile of savory baby chervil from his garden. “Our food’s about tasting the flavor of each ingredient,” Kelly tells me.
They label their cuisine “eclectic Mediterranean,” but it is much more. The food merges the wisdom of their travels with childhood memories. It’s food from roads less traveled. Nearby, Chez Panisse conveys the same personalized and eclectic stamp through the cuisine of France and Italy. At Zatar’s the menu evokes the desert oases of Mesopotamia and the shores of the Mediterranean.
What’s in a Word?
Zatar’s has been a well-kept Berkeley secret. The Majids first opened the tiny restaurant three years ago, after acquiring it from their former partners. Today it is warm, intimate and as usual, full of regulars. And fortunately, it lacks any references to belly dancers and their midriffs. Zatar is the name of a salty condiment of thyme, sesame seeds and ground sumac berries piled like the sand of an hourglass on a plate and covered with olive oil. That’s how the meal begins. It’s the vehicle to help devour the house-made bread. Nightly specials like the sardines are heavenly and shouldn’t be missed. The ceramic tagine — filled with grilled lamb, fresh grilled turnips, sweet potatoes, chickpeas and snap peas — warmed my soul.
Kelly created the restaurant’s wine list with selections that favor Mediterranean spices. Pipestone, her favorite boutique organic winery, is owned by a former environmental lawyer. The Majids found the vineyard while driving near Paso Robles and immediately felt an affinity with it. “It’s handmade, it’s organic, and it’s our philosophy,” says Kelly.
I noticed that most dishes ordered went back to the kitchen empty. But on the rare occasion that a customer orders too much rice (hey, a little carbohydrate won’t hurt you), the surplus goes to compost. “We don’t feed the sink,” Kelly insists.
Zatar’s generates almost no trash. The Majids compost most of the leftovers, and the remainder goes to their chickens, with the tasty meat scraps feeding their lucky dog. Even the extra water in the pitchers feeds their plants. Zatar’s is an Alameda County Certified Green Business.
If the slow food movement’s manifesto could be boiled down to a single word, that word could be Zatar’s. The idea of serving organic, seasonal artisan food and making their own bread, yogurt, and cheese and picking the freshest vegetables just came naturally. Zatar’s intimate ambience and decor, accented with Mediterranean murals, beaded lamps, and artisan tile work, compliment the rich flavors of their fare. It’s a place you’ll want to return to, again and again.
Zatar’s is located at 1981 Shattuck Avenue just north of University Avenue and a few blocks from the downtown Berkeley BART station. They are open Wednesday-Saturday for lunch and dinner (the Majids spend the rest of the week tending their garden). Cash only; no credit cards accepted. Reservations recommended: (510) 841-1981
Andrea Blum writes about food for Common Ground. She recently returned from an Environmental Journalism Workshop sponsored by the New York Times Foundation and Columbia University.