Mirage Cafe & Grill

Sept. 21, 2006
By JOSEPH M. DELEON News-Post Staff
jdeleon @ fredericknewspost . com

FREDERICK— A mix of exotic spices and fragrant incense swirled in the air while technotic eastern music spilled into the lounge.
      Couples flirted over hookahs, as coils of smoke danced under purple light fixtures shaped like daisys that dimly lit the shadowy room.
      My friend Evan was running late from a visit to Baltimore, so I thought I'd start with a drink.
      As I took a seat near the kitchen, I was stricken with the feeling that I had stepped into a different world.
      Mirage Cafe & Grill, at the corner of North Market and West Third streets, is known as a smoking lounge. Guests pay $12 for an elegant water-filled flask packed with spiced tobacco called shisha.
      I came to enjoy an authentic Persian dining experience, but was leery of being smoked out of the restaurant.
     As a non-smoker, I expected to use the breathing technique that gets me through most bars and clubs — inhale through the mouth, exhale through the nose. I don't smell the smoke as much that way.
     Four groups of people lazily traded puffs from communal pipes. I was surprised my nose and throat didn't sting from a tobacco assault. Only the sweet aroma of shisha mingled with the smell of curried meats and grilled onion.
     My appetite spiked.
     Mirage doesn't serve alcohol, but allows guests to bring their own bottle for a $5 fee. Evan called with an update on his location, and decided he would bring some beer.
     I ordered a cup of Miramyah tea for about $3 and began to browse the menu.
     The hot tea was served in a tall fluted glass, the steam mimicking the nearby hookahs. It reminded me of chamomile and mint tea my grandmother used to make in the winter.
     The menu is made up of Mediterranean dishes accented with American staples. Familiar fare, such as gyros and falafels, appear alongside the Mirage burger.
     Evan had already eaten dinner, so I started with the falafel appetizer for $5. Chicken shawarma, a traditional dish, piqued my appetite.
     The falafel was fresh and perfectly cooked, on par with ones I enjoyed at Mamoun's Restaurant in New York City.
     Four fried balls of chick peas and wheat were garnished with slices of tomato, cucumber and beetroot — a velvety, deep purple-colored mediterranean pickle soaked in rose water and flavored with lemon juice.
     A small bowl of yogurt and sesame oil — tahina sauce, sat at the center of the ornate display. Paprika and minced parsley accented the milky condiment.
     The service was quicker than I expected, and the presentation was clean and simple, yet decorative. Splashes of color and contrasting textures complemented the rich aroma of pungent spice.
     Vegetables were fresh and crisp. Even the garnishes looked good enough to eat.
     A mountain of grilled curried chicken and onions topped with a light cream sauce was placed in front of me. It was served over several slices of pita bread drizzled with pomegranate sauce.
     A generous serving of hummus was topped with paprika and raked, resembling a miniature Japanese sand garden. The dish was served with a small side salad dressed with balsamic vinaigrette and feta cheese.
     The chicken was tender and blended harmo niously with the pomegranate sauce. The sauce delivered a delicate tangy pinch, which melted into a sweet fruity aftertaste.
     Lightly toasted pita bread was the perfect vehicle for pinching hunks of food or scooping a mound of hummus.
     I was hoping to spend $10 for dinner, but the chicken shawarma cost about $14 — it was worth it.
     Evan showed up halfway through dinner with a six-pack of Red Stripe. By this time, more people were coming in to chat over shisha.
     After a toast to good health, I finished the shawarma. We shared baklava for dessert, which cost about $4.
     More than a dozen layers of crisp baked, wafer-thin pastry covered a core of ricotta and honey. A heap of coarsely ground pistachio nuts topped the pastry.
     Again, I was reminded of my grandmother. She loves to eat a similar Mexican pastry called a campechana.
     After finishing our beer, Evan and I left to enjoy the rest of the night on Market Street.
     When I first entered Mirage I felt transported to a distant land. By the time I left, I felt at home. Some flavors reminded me of home, while others were entirely new. The superb food and relaxed atmosphere is the perfect place to start or end a night on the town.