I suspect Dama Rose, a Middle Eastern restaurant opened about a year ago in West Haven, is a tribute to Damascus, Syria, one of the world’s oldest continuously inhabited cities. Nicknamed the “pearl of the east” in the west and the “city of jasmine” in the east, Damascus passed through Hellenistic, Roman, Byzantine and Islamic periods of influence with much of its architectural beauty surviving to tell the tale. The cityscape famously incorporates lush gardens and water features, built as it is over a literal oasis on the edge of the Syrian desert.
Dama Rose isn’t quite next to a desert, but it is an oasis, tucked almost invisibly, like a mirage you can actually double back and find, into a patchy strip mall on a patchy stretch of Route 1. Walking through the door felt like teleportation, from a world of crumbling asphalt and battered chain link to a land of warm wood accents, convincingly wainscoted drop ceiling, flower-swirled light fixtures and artful decorative objects from a pear-bodied, flat-headed oud to a mosaic of a fine Arabian courtyard.
The menu isn’t rigorously Syrian, but that focus comes through in places, including on the beverage menu, where a Polo Slush ($5.99) presents a slushie version of a mint lemonade popular in Syria. My dinner companion started there, with a curvy glass of bright green liquid climbing very fine crystals to a peak above the rim. I went with a Mixed Berry Lemonade Slush (also $5.99), whose consistency was more smoothie-like. The flavors in both were potent and tasty, the polo like a mock mojito that had swapped in lemon for lime, and the berry-ade delivering big hits of raspberry and lemon.
We then shared the Fattoush ($8.99 single; $17.99 double), an “authentic Levantine salad” featuring ripe fresh produce (romaine, cucumber, tomato, radish, onion, mint) and house-fried pita chips swimming in a sumac vinaigrette. The dressing was nicely fatty, savory, funky and acidic, and the pita chips added welcome extra dimensions of crunch and fat. But I’m not sure the double portion was quite worth 18 bucks.
Next up was the Dama Mix ($16.99), a generous sampler of five of the kinds of dips the Middle East is so famous for. The Hummus Beiruti was fabulous. Creamy and savory with a hint of smoke, it was beautifully refined and tasted even better streaked with dashes of EVOO and paprika. The Mutabal, a roasted eggplant dip, was also fabulous: nutty, smoky and, even where soft chunks of eggplant had survived the blender, silky-smooth. (Dairy-free folks beware: This one reportedly has yogurt in it.)
But not everything in the Mix was a winner. Topped with walnut bits, pomegranate seeds and, unfortunately, pomegranate molasses, the Muhammara, a red pepper-walnut dip that traditionally lets those two ingredients sing, was much too sweet. It was also kind of gluey and gummy—not appealing.
The Baba Ganoush and Beets Baba Ganoush were better but still not entirely successful. The first dip’s eggplant needed more oven time to mellow out its fibrous texture and vegetal flavor, while the second dip’s promise of novelty was undercut by its fairly simple-tasting result. None of the five were helped by the pita, which was a big letdown, arriving in a plastic bag and with hardly any flavor or texture at all.
The pita felt even more perplexing, but also soon forgotten, in light of the delicious bready base of our final dish: the so-obvious-it’s-brilliant Falafel Pizza ($21.99), which, we were told, is usually takeout-only. This striking ode to joy had a warm, chewy, fluffy crust topped with crispy and savory falafel, salty pickle, earthy radish, juicy tomato, crunchy romaine and bright mint, all finished with drizzled creamy tahini, squeezed tangy lemon juice and lightly scattered spice. The crust and falafel were clearly cooked separately, then combined with everything else to keep the fresh stuff fresh. We liked forking some of the dips onto our pizza, just as we liked dipping leftover pizza crust into our dips.
Though Damascus still gets top billing, Dama Rose’s nailing of a Falafel Pizza suggests its keepers know their market, and have allowed themselves to be influenced by another—at least in American terms—ancient city to the east.
Written and photographed by Dan Mims.
