et al.: Sufra Dinner Series
December 23, 2023
Foolish Things Coffee Company
There is no analogy in Tulsa for what the culinary team at et al. is doing. Each new pop-up or course dinner the group of chefs rolls out — all housed at Foolish Things Coffee Co. when the cafe is closed — serves up an experience that, in the absence of a space specifically designed for it, must provide flavor, ambience, and destination, responsibilities usually spread among every aspect of a traditional restaurant model. Et al.’s focus is on food as a vehicle for fellowship and storytelling. This is novel and noble on its own, and the philosophy is backed up by what is most important to me, a person who thinks about eating 90 percent of the time: the food slaps.
The phrase “et al.” means “and others,” and the collective’s newest set menu dinner, the Eastern Mediterranean-inspired Sufra — an approximate translation from Arabic might be “come to the table” — doubles down on the notion that family style and fine dining can be bedfellows. The meal was full of colors and flavors that were both familiar and not, a trip towards understanding a cuisine and a style of eating you might miss entirely if not for et al.
This would be a wonderful meal by yourself, but I was fortunate to dine as part of a group of four. Tearing into the meal’s kickoff salatim — crunchy pickles, falafel, hummus, a trio of sauces, and fresh sourdough laffa bread served in huge, tearable format — was a little like the Christmas morning present-opening fervor we all went through a couple days later. Unwrapping the bread and assembling each Technicolor bite a little differently and watching everyone else do the same was legitimately fun. My personal best salatim moment was a little hummus and a swipe of the harif hot sauce topped with the neon yellow turmeric cauliflower pickle: spicy, sweet, creamy, sour, and chewy all in one tidy bite.
Here I’ll say I’m grateful for the talent on the hospitality side of et al. The timing of each course was noticeably excellent, and without that direction I would have eaten enough bread to pre-ruin my next several holiday meals. Additionally, the staff had clearly tasted the food we were about to eat and expressed opinions and hinted at favorites. There’s an educational component to this specific dinner concept, necessarily backed by a two-way trust et al. has worked to cultivate through welcoming and genuine enthusiasm about what’s on the plates.
The next wave of food was three vegetarian dishes: a refreshing if straightforward dill and arugula salad dotted with pomegranate arils; a roasted winter squash with harissa honey and whipped feta; and what tied for my favorite offering of the night, a charred cauliflower served over labneh and topped with an herby chermoulah sauce, fried onions, and tarka (spices fried in hot oil until crunchy). The cauliflower was roasted to a perfect bittersweet, melty but substantial, and delicious enough that I made a weird, guttural noise and pointed to it forcefully instead of using words after I took the first bite.
Even if the idea of sharing bread doesn’t speak to you, having three buddies during the entree course was a gift. Each diner gets to choose one, and with four of us and four selections, we were each able to sample all of them. The confit brisket broke apart with a spoon, and the Turkish-style mushrooms, served in a roasty tomato and cumin sauce, recalled a bowl of Italian meatballs, though chewier and more complex.
The lamb merguez sausage paired with its roasted pepper sauce and sumac onions was damn near perfect. I’m not a fan of lamb unless its, um, pastoral flavor is evenly matched with judicious usage of spices, and this one was brilliant red with paprika. I wish I had a time machine so I could wrap it in the laffa like a little hot dog with some of the pickled cabbage from course one.
I wince when I see a vegetable, usually cauliflower or cabbage, called a “steak,” but I’m not sure there’s a more accurate way to describe the caramelized half eggplant. High on drama, the dish was massive, charred and caramelized and topped with pistachio, pomegranate molasses, tahini sauce, and parsley. It reminded me of the cover image of Yotam Ottolenghi’s cookbook Plenty, a stunning roasted eggplant dish I’ve admired but never made because I was afraid it would just be a mound of goo. Now I know it can be much better than that, curiously rich without feeling heavy, not meaty but capable of scratching the same textural itch.
I was so distracted by the mix-and-match process of the dinner that I largely forgot I had participated in the optional drink pairing, an art form I would rate my personal understanding of as existent but rudimentary. And then the dessert course happened.
The labneh ice cream, topped with caramel and pistachio and served on a nest of kataifi (like a shredded baklava), tied the charred cauliflower for the most delicious thing I ate. Washed down with a sip of the recommended Broadbent Sercial Madeira, it escalated from delicious to remarkable, swirling into layers of nuttiness, creaminess, bitterness, and back again. It was so memorable that I’ve since bookmarked half a dozen recipes for labneh ice cream to attempt to replicate that feeling at home.
This entire meal clocks in at an absurdly generous $65 ticket per person. You won’t finish feeling like you’ve just had a nice plate of food, though you’ll have had several. You’ll leave the table feeling like you’ve taken part in something meaningful.
Next at et al.: Sufra dinners continue January 6, 13, and 20
