There we were, three of the chattiest women you’ve ever met, rendered completely speechless by pastry. We sat, astonished, at our tiny table, cheeks speckled with powdered sugar.
What on earth had we just eaten?
It was feteer — luxurious, ghee-glossed sheets that shattered as we ate, encasing softer, wavier layers filled with thickened cream and adorned with messy squiggles of Biscoff Cookie Butter and pistachios. The whole structure defied gravity, the delicate pastry somehow supporting (holding space with?) the weight of the toppings.
Every great bread I’d ever eaten flashed before me: shimmering poori straight from the fryer. A rich, blistered flour tortilla. Roti smeared with jaggery and ghee. Like them, this was pure, elemental pleasure.
At Levant, a colorful sanctum in the Little Egypt neighborhood of Astoria, Queens, the feteer — an Egyptian pastry that some devotees say dates from the days of the pharaohs — comes in several lovable varieties. I’ve relished a version topped with dollops of qushta, a lush, not-too-sweet cream fragrant with orange blossom syrup. And one stuffed with crumbles of homemade beef-and-lamb sausage, peppers, olives and a mixture of mozzarella, a mild white cheese called akkawi and an Egyptian cheese, roumy, that tastes like Parmesan with a plot twist.
On my most recent encounter, I tried a classic filling of basterma, strips of dried beef redolent with maple-y fenugreek, and a less traditional shawarma feteer in which the spit-roasted meat and the pastry were an inspired match.
I’ve passed afternoons watching the chef, Mahmoud Abraham, stretch and toss balls of ghee-enriched dough into a large, translucent sheet, adding even more ghee as he loads on toppings and folds in the sides. The feteer, each one made to order, slide into a domed oven, emerging with a burnished golden sheen and receiving, yes, another swipe of ghee.
I’d be impressed if the restaurant specialized only in this dish, which is both taxing to make and not easy to find in New York restaurants.
But the feteer is just the beginning. Levant — opened in July by the restaurateurs Sam Kaplan and Nabil Abraham, Mahmoud’s older brother — serves meats, breads, wraps, mezze and pastry from across the Levantine region. All of it is excellent.
That’s saying something on a street full of culinary heavyweights like AbuQir Seafood, with its expertly grilled platters of whole fish, and Mum Feteer and Cairo Feteer, two more-traditional feteer-only restaurants.
Levant doesn’t seek to edge out or outshine its peers. The menu is a loving tribute to Steinway Street’s ever-diversifying Arab population from members of that community. Mr. Kaplan is Yemeni American, the Abrahams are Lebanese American and their cooks hail from Morocco, Algeria, Egypt and Lebanon.
The kofta kebab, a blend of rib-eye and lamb breast fortified by dehydrated red peppers, twinkles with fat and herbs. The lamb shawarma is similarly rich, like confit, barely needing condiments. The liver kebab was so tender that one of my friends declared, “I guess I love liver now.”
Mahmoud makes all the breads daily, including mana’eesh, or open pies — thin, stretchy rounds showered in herby za’atar and cheese, a little doughy in a good way — and baladi, a soft, sturdy bread used for wraps. Don’t skip the falafel, a mixture of fava beans and chickpeas that crackles satisfyingly as you bite. Or hummus so light and smooth you could apply it as moisturizer, with a pleasant, lemony pucker.
In this moment when many newer restaurants look like chic hospital rooms, I delighted in the mix of mismatched tiles set into the tables, the orange and blue walls, the faux windows outlined in mint green and the low-hanging lanterns. At night, a speaker outside plays house music next to a looping video of hands making feteer.
This uninhibited spirit extends to the staff. Mahmoud, the chef, was a constant and loquacious presence when I ate there, anonymously. (His brother later told me, with a chuckle, that the staff is not on the lookout for restaurant critics). Mahmoud gave me samples of sausage, discouraged me from ordering Americanized offerings like chicken ranch feteer (“It is like chicken, but with ranch, so it is worse”) and doled out unsolicited, often confusing advice. (“Friends are like the lottery. You’re either paid all at once or in installments.”)
On one visit, after the servers boxed up my leftovers and bid me goodbye, I made it only a few blocks before I realized I’d forgotten to pay. When I ran back to settle the bill, Mahmoud just shrugged, laughed and offered me free baklava, custard-filled and divine (which I paid for).
With all its charms and quirks, Levant may sound like a modest family operation. It isn’t. Nabil Abraham and Mr. Kaplan have their hands in a variety of enterprises; between them they run two bagel shops, two hookah lounges, a deli and a Brazilian steakhouse in the works. They bring to Levant those smart, knowing touches that come only from long experience. Their takeout bags have flat bottoms, so the breads don’t slide around; the to-go boxes are custom-sized for feteer; and the wraps are slender and tightly rolled, providing a tidy bite and a balanced distribution of meat, pickles and garlicky toum in the standout chicken shawarma.
Nabil is a fixture of the neighborhood — every person I spoke to knew him — having arrived in Astoria from Beirut in 1979. A decade later, he opened five halal restaurants in the area, which would join places like Kabab Cafe in catering to the growing Arab population. (He closed or sold all except one, a hookah lounge called Layaly Cafe.)
Today, Steinway Street is a booming halal food destination and an especially meaningful gathering place for Arab New Yorkers. Each time my friends and I dined at Levant, our visits turned into multi-hour treks down Steinway. We’d stop at Mokafe, a Yemeni and Palestinian coffee shop, for shai adeni, a spiced milk tea; grab knafeh at Al-Sham Sweets & Pastries; then drop into Kabab Cafe to chat with Ali El Sayed, the restaurant’s wisecracking chef. I grew accustomed to hearing the owner of Mum Feteer, Ahmed Saber, scold me for dining there with a Levant takeout bag in tow.
I left Levant dreaming of flaky feteer and glistening kebabs. I also wondered: Can I give two stars to the whole street?
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