The Azerbaijani Restaurant Baku in Dreiliņi

One Friday evening, just before Midsummer, we set out on a reconnaissance trip to restaurant Baku, right here in the greater Riga area, in Dreiliņi. Before going, I had a look at their website, where the table reservation form caught my eye. As the chosen venue was not of vital importance, I decided not to book anything in advance - and so that feature remained untested.

The restaurant opened only in June 2013 and has positioned itself as a venue for savouring the refined cuisine of Azerbaijan.

Arriving at restaurant Baku around 7 pm, we were pleasantly surprised by the impressively large building. At first glance one could make out a restaurant space and a glazed terrace. The day was cool and we decided to eat indoors. At the entrance, a rather peculiar reception desk threw us off - about seven people were standing in line there, waiting for something. The confusion was dispelled by a person resembling an administrator who asked whether we needed anything. - Yes, we do. To eat! We were led into the dining room and allowed to choose our table.

The room was spacious. Despite there being only about ten people in total, the tables - for various numbers of guests - were placed at quite a distance from one another. In the far corner of the room: a bar; in the middle: a door to the kitchen and a stage that blended indistinguishably into the space, evidenced only by the sound equipment, a synthesiser, and a raised bench with a microphone stand facing it.

Besides us, the room held two couples who, even after we had settled in, remained sitting at an empty table. As a result, we had no way to visually assess the food presentation (okay, fine - the portion sizes :) ). On one side of the room, several tables had been pushed together for a merry company of about a dozen who were, let's say, having a very good time. After we had already placed our order, some dark-complexioned men arrived, greeted by someone who appeared to be the manager or owner of the establishment. The mysterious arrivals sat down behind us and tapped away on a laptop doing something on Skype for a while, until from the laptop's speakers across the entire room came: As-salamu alaykum. The conversation that followed was considerably quieter.

After a short while, the music started. An unprepossessing-looking man - unusual for a musician - played the synthesiser, periodically poking at the laptop connected to it, while a woman with such a pleasant voice sang that, without seeing her, one could easily mistake her for M. Naumova. But no - it was someone else.

So far, so good.

Once we had settled in, a young waitress arrived, cheerfully announcing that this was her first day at work, and brought the menus in bulky but tastefully and thematically designed covers. I chose baked sturgeon. I asked whether it would be just the fish or whether there would be some side dishes. The waitress replied that the sides "tend to include" even a whole tomato. Driven by curiosity, I additionally ordered a dish called Lyulya, flatbreads baked with herbs (khachapuri), and a bottle of wine. The wine list looked rather pricey and, most regrettably, quite sparse. I asked which wine the waitress would recommend, to which I received the answer that she would pop off to the kitchen to find out. She returned halfway and asked - what price range did we have in mind? :)

The wine list was written in a rather laconic style: country and name. No mention of the wine's colour (well, of course everyone knows what kind of wine something is just from the name, don't they?), nor of quality designations or appellations (for Italian wines these would be DOCG, IGT, etc.). While the waitress was pestering the chef to find out which wine to recommend, we managed to choose one ourselves and ordered it.

The wine was carried to the table by two people - the waitress and some other lady who did not introduce herself but looked like a cook from a rural café (this is a restaurant, after all!) complete with apron. Said apron also happened to be where the wine bottle was wedged while being opened; the foil cap of the cork, needless to say, was not cut. Since the table had only one type of glass, the wine was poured into those, starting with the nearest person rather than with me - who had, after all, placed the order. The obligatory wine tasting and approval ritual was entirely skipped. A little while later, the waitress brought a small saucer with the cork in it, adding that this is apparently what one does. As for trifles such as offering to top up the glasses once emptied - hope was abandoned, though admittedly we did not request it either.

The sturgeon was served. Two of the restaurant chef's quirks we could not fathom: 1) Instead of the promised whole tomato, there were only two slices and a lettuce leaf; 2) The food was served (the fish included) completely without any seasoning, basil, or vinegar. Nothing whatsoever. Not even salt and pepper. And of course, as befits a refined establishment, there is no salt or pepper on the table either. After all, in restaurants, the food is the chef's masterpiece - in case you didn't know :).

On the plus side, I learned what Lyulya is. Blended potatoes with onions and spices, boiled and baked. Served in the shape and size of a chocolate bar. This was at least sufficiently salty, which compensated for the lack of seasoning in the main course.

As the meal drew to a close, we began casting hopeful glances in the direction of the waitress, wondering when the herb flatbreads would be served. A certain surprise came in the form of the waitress's pleasant but unemotional announcement that she had forgotten to put in the order. Well, forgotten is forgotten. We reordered them.

Under the influence of the wine, time began to move noticeably more slowly. We surrendered to the charm of the moment and the music. Eventually the flatbread arrived. Unlike, say, the one eaten at the Indian restaurant Indian Raja (in Old Riga), this one was pitifully small, thin, and hard. Furthermore, of an already modest size (~10 cm in diameter), only half was served. The herbs: dill.

I don't recall whether dessert was offered; in any case, it was obvious to all - not a moment longer in this place! To end the evening, we headed for the tried and tested: restaurant/café Mio (on Blaumaņa Street).

P.S. Do not confuse restaurant Baku with restaurant Azerbaidžāna. They are two different places (one hopes).

Places mentioned in this article:

Restaurant Baku - http://www.barradar.lv/lv/restorans/1502-baku
Indian restaurant Indian Raja - http://www.barradar.lv/lv/restorans/915-indian-raja
Restaurant / café Mio - http://www.barradar.lv/lv/restorans/1394-mio