Eyval
Small talk doesn't suck when it's about Persian food
“What’s your favorite restaurant in New York City?”
I get asked this question a lot, and you probably do, too. It’s ubiquitous and fair game in just about every social situation — first date, corporate happy hour, talking with strangers at the bar, over the family dinner table. Everybody wants to know about #1. And you better be prepared to answer. It’s a straightforward question with no right answers, but plenty of wrong ones.
No matter how the question is interpreted, the response serves as a pretty good barometer for what someone likes and appreciates about dining. It’ll reflect someone’s internal prioritization of the elements of a restaurant experience: food, design, ambiance, hospitality, and value. Posing the question is a streamlined way to tease out if someone’s taste aligns with yours (and often, if you’ll get along).
With my close circle of friends — all of whom are at least a little bit food-interested — restaurant conversations tend to divulge into the intricacies and subtleties of our experiences: the tilt of the dining room mirror at Sailor, the menu section titled “Vermouth Service” at Cervo’s, the bathroom hand towels at Place des Fêtes. Weirdly specific shit, I know. We’ll certainly talk about our top meals as of late, but rarely are we discussing all-time favorites broadly. A few weeks ago, after a spirited, exhaustive conversation about the city’s best roast chickens, I found myself curious about my friend’s answers to the deceptively simple question. So I started firing off texts to survey them.
Responses rolled in quickly, each accompanied by some derivative of “That’s too hard.” Some included multiple restaurants that I needed to force into a singular answer. But we landed the plane.
Emma: I Sodi
Sam: Taqueria Ramirez
Sophie: Four Horsemen
Aaron: Thai Diner
Tess: Torrisi
Mitch: Wei’s
Maverick: Cafe Spaghetti
Jon: Misi
Hannah: Taikun
This is an impressive collection of restaurants. I have friends with excellent taste (not a coincidence). What I love about this list, knowing these wonderful people, is that their “favorite” places are so closely aligned with their personalities. Sophie is creative and innovative, just like the menu at Four Horsemen. Jon is structured and precise, much like the operation at Misi.
In short, I recognize the significance of this question — and I don't take it lightly. My addition to the list — my favorite restaurant in New York, is Eyval.
It was a bitter winter night when my friends and I found our way into Eyval for the first time, in January 2023. We were seated in a cozy corner pocket of the middle dining room. It was dim, nearly dark, with a soft orange glow cast against white tiled walls and the flickering of a candle on our table. Sometimes, you sit down in a restaurant and just know. Without a dish on the table, without a drink in hand, you have a sense that you’re in for something special. We looked at each other across the table with giddy smiles — we didn’t know what was about to go down, but we knew it was gonna be good.
Eyval sits in no-mans-land, Brooklyn. Call it Bushwick, call it East Williamsburg; the proper neighborhood designation isn’t super important. Either way, the streets that surround Eyval are gritty and graffiti-covered, and the restaurant is tucked between a food processing facility, paved lots used for cargo truck staging, and other unmarked industrial structures. This might sound desolate, but it’s surprisingly not. There’s a crawl of nightlife energy from the main Bushwick drag that finds its way down this stretch. Plus a random smattering of European tourists partaking in street art tours. This series of blocks is also home to major landmarks in the food and beverage space. Just north of Eyval is the original Roberta’s, which opened in 2008 and is often credited with launching a New York pizza revolution. One block east is SEY Coffee, known as one of, if not the best coffee roasters in the city. No one’s gonna tell you this is a charming area, but it’s undeniably loaded with quality establishments.
That first night, our excitement quickly turned into serious astonishment as dishes started hitting the table. An Orange Blossom Negroni, on the stiffer end of the cocktail spectrum, but beautifully balanced with the essence of florals. Roasted eggplant loaded with creamy cured yogurt, a hint of mint oil, and topped with crisp fried onions and garlic. Mind-bendingly tender, juicy lamb shishlik. A saffron ice cream sandwich with crunch from pistachio and the aroma of fresh rose. It was a beautiful symphony of flavors across the board. We ordered dishes that didn’t sound revolutionary but tasted like nothing we’d had before. On the way out, we collectively vowed to come back very soon. The next reservation was made standing in the cold on Bogart St.
I’ve been back to Eyval nearly a dozen times since. In New York, that’s a shit ton of visits to a single restaurant. Not one of these meals happened on a whim — these were deliberate, premeditated choices to visit and dine. Eyval is the restaurant I take every visitor from out of town. It’s a place I like to take my parents. We’ve celebrated my friend Tom’s birthday here, twice. Simply put, I want everyone I know and love to experience Eyval.
Eyval was my first encounter with Iranian cuisine — a glorious introduction to the nation’s rich food history and distinct flavors. Eyval is certainly a modern take on Persian food, but it leans heavily on traditional ingredients to execute — saffron, sumac, rose, pomegranate, dates, and sesame. The dishes at Eyval are thoughtful, precise, approachable, and substantial. What I love most is how unpretentious the experience is — it’s food anyone can get behind. Bold, bright, and straight-up delicious.
Both breads — Komaj and Barbari — are required orders. There’s no decision to be made here, just get one of each (maybe more). The Komaj has a pretzel-like exterior, pillowy soft inside, gently stained with turmeric, and flavored with cumin. The Barbari is crustier, and more dense, with an added nuttiness from sesame.
You’ll use these breads to wipe Borani — a creamy strained yogurt dip that’s topped with deeply flavorful veg. I’ve had many of Eyval’s Borani variations — green garlic, broccolini, fava bean, carrot, mushroom. No matter what’s on top, it’s a worthwhile order every time. There’s a whipped feta spread on the menu as well, which is a tried-and-true crowd-pleaser, but not a real stand-out.
There’s a salad at Eyval that’ll flip your shit upside down, inside out. Citrus Date & Cabbage Salad. It’s crunchy, creamy, sweet, and spicy. Crisp lettuce and cabbage mixed with sticky dates, and juicy orange. Coated in a chili tahini dressing. Sprinkled with sesame. Finished with radish. The range of flavors and textures is frankly absurd. It is, without a sliver of doubt, my favorite salad in New York.
Eyval’s three dining rooms each have a distinct feel, but there’s an overarching continuity to the space — the orangish-red glow from LED lights, and rhythmic patterns of upbeat Iranian music over the soundsystem. The front room is brighter, with floor-to-ceiling windows flanking the left wall and a 6-seat, white-tiled bar serving as the focal point. Past the open kitchen is the middle room, the moodiest of the three, and the one that delivers the most immersive experience. The back room is rustic — out of the action a bit, with a touch more privacy. The space, all together, is buzzing. There’s a convivial energy that comes with passing plates around a large table, and it’s felt throughout.
There aren’t any misses at Eyval. But there are a few more standouts. Scallop kebab is one of them, possibly my favorite item on the menu. A 4-pack of beautifully seared, buttery scallops served over zesty squid ink rice, topped with trout roe, and finished with Calabrian chili hot sauce. It’s another dish that covers an insane amount of ground flavor-wise.
The lamb ribs are out of control delicious. Charcoal smoked, fall-off-the-bone tender. Glazed in a sweet tamarind-date marinade, cut with spice from pickled red hot chiles. These need to be on every table — there’s a reason they haven’t left the menu.
Ghormeh Sabzi is a herby kidney bean and black lime stew. It’s a rich, hearty base for tender, fatty, slow-cooked Angus short rib. Half Chicken Fesenjoon is served over a bright pomegranate walnut sauce. This dish was a part of the aforementioned perfect roast chicken conversation. It’s exceptional.
Alright, beverage department. Since that first taste of the Orange Blossom Negroni, I’ve been majorly hooked on Eyval’s cocktails. I’d often list it among my favorite cocktail programs in the city. Iranian twists on classics, beautifully balanced. There was once a date-sweetened Old Fashioned that was the best of its kind. Drinking a Saffron Martini remains an ethereal experience. On my most recent visit, it became apparent that something had changed cocktail-wise — turnover with the bar program and a new slate of beverages. Change is inevitable, and this I understand. But it was a significant shift. The cocktails were good, but not a hallmark of the meal like they once were. The good news — their wine program is still stellar. The house chilled red usually does the trick for me, pairing well with the meat-heavy back half of the meal. Along with dessert, a round of Persian mint tea is a veteran play — it brings you softly back to earth after ascending to the heavens above.
It’s a special feeling to have a confident, decisive answer to the favorite restaurant question. And a relief, honestly, to know I’m well prepared for restaurant small talk.
For me, it ultimately comes down to this: Eyval is unique, it’s consistent, and it’s insanely delicious. I feel incredibly confident that anyone I send in their direction will have an amazing experience. Above all, it’s a place that makes me happy. When I have a reservation on the books, I find myself looking forward to it until the day comes. Eyval is a restaurant that reflects my personality and approach to dining – bold flavors, sophisticated but unpretentious, and a hell of a lot of fun.
This was a restaurant write-up from Mr. Flood’s Party. Subscribe for free and get Flood’s delivered every week.
Every day that I’m not eating this eggplant I miss it