EZTHE WASHINGTON POST.
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2019away on the lone shelf devoted to
her goods. Thus was born her
spicy cabbage, a salad with melt-
ingly tender leaves, whose heat
creeps up so slowly it feels time-
released.
The inspiration behind some
of Onal-Urel’s dishes can be easily
traced if you know a little about
her background: There are the
faint echoes of Etto (like the
roasted rapini offset with a rich,
decadent egg). There’s the direct
import from Turkey (the quenel-
le-shaped red lentil balls, these
crumbly vegan meatballs that
leave behind a mushroom cloud
of onion vapors). There’s even an
homage to a grandfather who
used to grill and peel peppers in
the summertime (the simple,
sublime roasted mini peppers).
These plates can be ordered ei-
ther at lunch or in takeout con-
tainers, the latter available until 7
p.m.
Personally, I prefer to pull up a
stool — despite their metal seats
that flatten your buns like a meat
press — and take my meals at the
counter. By some chance align-
ment in our schedules, I invited a
few discriminating eaters to join
me at Green Almond over the
many weeks I scouted the shop. I
hate to name-drop, but what the
hell: They included Jeff Gordini-
er with Esquire; Jeanne Mc-
Manus, the former Food editor
for The Washington Post; and my
Post colleague, global opinions
writer Jason Rezaian, who has
dined in more countries than
anyone else I know. Best as I
could tell, they all walked away
fans.
I drop this boast because I feel
this small, nagging need to sup-
port my next statement: I love
almost everything about Green
Almond. I love the seven-minute
egg sandwich, in which a velvety
yolk attempts (and fails) to muz-
zle the salt and light oiliness of
the anchovies. I love the airy,
crispy-edged focaccia that sup-
ports a large, tart wheel of green
tomato. I love the feather-light
chocolate cake. I love the Little
Little in the Middle, a combo
plate that allows you and a friend
to sample a selection of Onal-
Urel’s salads. I love the chef ’s use
of lemon and extra virgin olive
oil, this double helix of fruit,
which adds depth and lightness
to the French lentil salad, the
Christmas lima bean salad and
the silky fava-bean dip.
Okay, sure, I don’t love every-
thing. Onal-Urel’s hummus is a
tasty but pasty spread that pales
next to the smooth preparation at
Little Sesame. I also don’t love
this fear in the back of my mind, a
worry that surfaces anytime I
gush about a small, seemingly
fragile place that may not be
ready for a crush of new custom-
ers. I fear that I have just ruined
this personal little lunch counter.
[email protected]red wine vinegar and lemon juice.
Onal-Urel almost apologizes
for her methods, but I think her
genius lies in her improvisation.
In the early days, back when she
was still using 2 Amys’ kitchen to
prepare dishes for her farmers
market stalls, Onal-Urel had to
learn to work with the limited
space allotted her. So when, for
example, a case of cabbage would
arrive, she had to devise ways to
break it down fast and pack itchefs with the Michelin stars and
the borage blossoms strategically
placed on their plates, like dia-
monds set in a ring. She builds
dishes based on intuition, tradi-
tion, experience and the limited
equipment crammed into her
tiny, subterranean kitchen. That
exquisite smoky eggplant dip
with the double-barrel blast of
acid? Its smokiness comes entire-
ly from a single propane burner,
while its sourness comes fromopen Etto, where Onal-Urel’s
smiling face seemed to hover just
above a counter loaded down
with her blistered peppers, em-
ber-grilled eggplants and other
elegant statements from the
hearth.
Onal-Urel left Etto two years
ago to focus on her own thing, an
informal, homestyle business
that would be part Italian, part
Turkish and almost totally self-
less. She started by selling pre-
pared foods at farmers markets
before partnering with Can
Yurdagul, owner of Sushi Capitol,
to open a bricks-and-mortar shop
in the former Seasonal Pantry
space in Shaw. Almost everything
about the market and lunch
counter is a symbol of a mother’s
love: its focus on the midday
meal; its honest, unfussy plates;
and its modest ambitions, which
allow Onal-Urel to break the in-
visible chains that keep chefs
shackled to their restaurants,
sacrificing any notion of a home
life.
“The whole thing I created
because of my daughter,” Onal-
Urel says of her child, Su, aged 8.
“If you’re working in restaurants,
you’re missing family time.”
Green Almond Pantry is built
for speed, starting with the chef ’s
recipes. Onal-Urel doesn’t have
the luxury to tinker obsessively
with her food, like those tweezer
CASUAL FROM 12
PHOTOS BY LAURA CHASE DE FORMIGNYP FOR THE WASHINGTON POSTCLOCKWISE FROM TOP:
Sunlight, cake, coffee and
laughter are in hearty
supply at Green Almond
Pantry. Dishes like the green
tomato focaccia are so
informed by the ingredients’
flavors that they feel close to
the source. The seven-
minute egg sandwich
includes a velvety yolk that
mixes well with salty
anchovies.