But will people flock to the Presidio for Dalida?

Interior views and dishes of Dalida, including its 12-hour lamb should tandoor, upper right, and Anatolian erishte, a Mediterranean pasta dish, lower left. (Nico Madrigal-Yankowski/SFGATE)
Interior views and dishes of Dalida, including its 12-hour lamb should tandoor, upper right, and Anatolian erishte, a Mediterranean pasta dish, lower left. (Nico Madrigal-Yankowski/SFGATE)

They just might. Open since June 30, Dalida comes on the heels of other new and noteworthy dining options in the Presidio, the northernmost swath of (federally owned) land in San Francisco. Last July, Tunnel Tops park debuted with a lengthy lineup of impressive food trucks, including Satay by the Bay. Presidio Bowl recently revamped its menu and now features an array of upscale pub food, like barbecue pulled pork sandwiches. Colibri Mexican Bistro, a Mexican restaurant at the Presidio Officers’ Club, also features one of the most underrated outdoor patios in the city.

And now, there’s Dalida, billed as a modern Mediterranean restaurant with influences stretching from Greece to Iran. Dalida’s owners seem to be banking on the combination of expert techniques — think 12-hour lamb shoulder tandoor — and an escapist location as a recipe for success, even though it will be the most expensive restaurant in the Presidio. After working at world-famous restaurants in New York, such as Le Bernardin, Blue Hill at Stone Barns and Eleven Madison Park, and San Francisco stalwarts Saison and Mourad, the power couple started a bold San Francisco pop-up in 2017 called Istanbul Modern, which leaned on Sayat Ozyilmaz’s Turkish roots. The following year, they opened Noosh, a wildly popular Mediterranean restaurant in Pacific Heights that was lauded by local food media. Laura and Sayat were even named Rising Star Chefs in 2019 by the San Francisco Chronicle.

However, in November 2019, a public fallout with business partner John Litz led to the couple reportedly being locked out of the restaurant quite literally, as the locks on the doors had been changed. SFGATE confirmed that litigation between the two parties is settled and the court case will be dismissed in August.

But at Dalida, the chefs have full control over every aspect of the restaurant. And their menu is stellar.

With reservations booked through next week, my friends and I arrived early on Dalida’s fourth night of business, hoping to snag one of its coveted walk-in tables. Inside, the restaurant was pristine, with young plants, freshly painted white walls, and leather-bound menus with that brand-new leather smell. We noticed that the tables were more generously spaced apart than most San Francisco restaurants.

Dalida’s menu was separated into five sections: ocean, garden, land, pastas and entrees. Our group started with two dishes from the ocean section. First, the midye dolma, or stuffed mussels — a classic Turkish appetizer where the mollusks are stuffed with tomato broth-steeped rice and currants, with a garnish of dill. When Sayat delivered the dish, he told us the best way to eat the mussels was by slurping them out of the shell into your mouth. The mussels, served in their shells and surrounding lemon wedges, were bursting with tomato broth. Adding a generous squeeze of lemon brought each bite to another level. It truly became that balance of salt, fat, acid and heat.

Next was the California tahdig — a potential Dalida signature — of crispy saffron basmati rice, uni from Santa Barbara, smoked trout roe halibut from San Francisco Bay and preserved yuzu. The dish was reminiscent of uni don, the Japanese rice bowl, but with a Persian twist. The seafood was sitting atop tahdig, a saffron- and butter-infused crispy rice that forms at the bottom of the pot when making Persian rice. All the colors — yellow rice, orange uni, and green cucumber and seaweed — made the dish look like art. The uni and halibut crudo were fresh and subtle and were amplified by the more assertive kombu. The smoked trout roe added pops of texture. The mini tahdig could’ve been crispier, though traditional Persian tahdig is often served smothered in khoresh, a stew, which inherently subdues its crunchiness. If crunch is what you’re after, order a side portion of tahdig, instead of the California version, as it comes bare with just a smattering of tart, maroon-colored barberries.

The “chubby” pita; California tahdig. (Nico Madrigal-Yankowski/SFGATE)
The “chubby” pita; California tahdig. (Nico Madrigal-Yankowski/SFGATE)

Soon after, we were presented with zeytinyagli enginar — confit artichokes with fennel, feta cheese and an orange-dill dressing — as well as the “breaking bread” appetizer, which consisted of housemade “chubby” pita, hummus, muhammara, or roasted red pepper dip, and smoked yogurt. When we ripped the pita apart, plumes of steam evaporated into the air. We carefully ran each hot, pillowy tear of bread through the different dips, which were all situated on a gorgeous bronze platter. The muhammara stood out to me, as it had a strong nuttiness compared with others I’ve tasted. The sides of olives and pickled veggies were a nice complement to the entire mezze platter. The pita, though, was otherworldly — hot, soft and with a hint of tang.

Another impressive dish: the vegetarian Anatolian erishte, which consists of al dente hand-rolled noodles, slightly thicker than chow mein, with forest mushrooms, giant fava beans and lemon-parsley breadcrumbs in a white wine sauce. It was delightful. To be honest, we ordered it almost as an afterthought. It ended up being our second-favorite dish of the night. I hate to compare it to a well-known Italian dish, but it did remind me of cacio e pepe, though with less pepper.

But the best dish of the night was the ibérico pork souvlaki. Seven cubes of crispy, charred, salty pork jowl were speared onto a thin, golden roasting skewer. It lay atop uber-thin, julienne potatoes that were as crispy as any fry can be. The cheek meat was tender and juicy; fat dripped down the skewer. The dish came with a side of housemade mustard, though we thought that was best used for the crispy potatoes. The souvlaki was sensational on its own, and our only regret was that we didn’t order more.

While I’ve never visited Turkey or any other Mediterranean country, my companions for the evening had — and thank goodness, because they introduced me to a traditional anise-flavored digestif that is drunk throughout the region, in countries like Israel, Lebanon, Turkey and Greece. We ended our delicious meal with three variations of it — ouzo from Greece, arak from Israel and raki from Turkey. It was the perfect cap to an evening that made me feel closer, in a way, to the cultures of the Mediterranean.

As this flower begins to bloom, Dalida should be on your list to try. It has the potential to become a shining jewel of San Francisco’s dining scene — and just might transport you to the shores of the Mediterranean.