Lily’s Restaurant

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We now have so many Mediterranean restaurants that even I’m starting to lose track of them.

Well, I’m not actually losing track of the restaurants. What I’m losing track of is their provenance, since most of the restaurants that call themselves Mediterranean actually have roots in the Middle East, whether that be Lebanon, the United Arab Emirates, Afghanistan, Armenia or Iran. To make themselves more accessible to the American (read: not of the owner’s particular ethic group) eating public, they tend to blur the lines to the extent that hummus, falafel and, yes, the ever-popular Greek salad become the focus of their menus, and hookahs the focus of their decor.

Which is why it would be unfortunate if Lily’s Restaurant got lost in the shuffle. Lily’s subtitles its cuisine as Persian — that would be Iranian, although Persian sounds better these days — as well as Mediterranean and even offers a separate section of Persian dishes on its menu. And there’s not a hookah in sight.

In fact, I’m going to address the decor/atmosphere aspects of Lily’s before I get to the food, because somebody — whether the current proprietor or a previous tenant, I don’t know — has done an exemplary job of creating an attractive, soothing interior in a truly nondescript strip center. A chandelier over the entry, sconces on the walls and indirect uplighting provide a soft glow in which it’s still easy to read the menu, and the ceiling has an interesting stepped effect that evokes a line of minarets with blue sky above. Richly toned wooden molding on the walls frames interesting sculptural works and paintings, and the tables are dressed in crisp linens, with gleaming white dinnerware. No foam plates and plastic flatware here.

And that attention to detail extends to the food as well. Before we ordered our server delivered a basket of warm pita, lightly charred on a grill, and butter, should we desire. The pita wasn’t as puffy as some but it was velvety, and the charring provided a nice touch of smoky flavor as well as a contrast in texture.

We attempted to order a lamb kabob. No lamb, our server said, except the shanks. And no fish, she said, and we began to wonder about the place.

And then the Souvlaki ($13) arrived, looking like art on a plate. A whole tomato served on the side had been thoroughly charred, concentrating its flavor. A mound of salad — and yes, they called it Greek salad — had been carefully arranged to showcase color, topped with chunks of feta and accompanied by an attractive little glass cup of a well-balanced vinaigrette. A mound of snowy white basmati rice had been topped with grains of rice that had been cooked in saffron, which rendered them a bright yellow.

And the chicken itself? Well, I had recently had a very good chicken souvlaki somewhere else. This was even better, the chunks of marinated, impossibly moist breast lightly charred (they’re awfully good at that at Lily’s) and exhibiting a well-balanced mix of citrus and herbs.

The Khoresht Fesenjan ($11) is a traditional Persian dish of sauteed chicken chunks in an earthy sauce of ground walnuts and pomegranate paste (or pomegranate molasses) that I’ve had numerous times before, and this version was excellent. A pile of basmati rice was served with this one as well.

And, for balance, a classic shish kabob ($14), with tender chunks of lightly charred onion and bell pepper, with a tomato (and rice) on the side.

We’d started with the combination plate ($10) of hummus, stuffed grape leaves and baba ghanoush, and while the leaves were maybe a bit dry (although lemon wedges positioned between them were a plus) and the hummus only slightly better than average, the baba ghanoush was superlative, the eggplant carrying a pronounced smokiness.

And ended with baklava, which emphasized the flavors of both rosewater and lemon.

Service throughout was very good, the lone female server efficient and quietly personable.

We also thoroughly enjoyed cups of Turkish coffee. But because we weren’t feeling up to the dough — a mint-infused, yogurt-based soft drink — and the restaurant serves no wine, we started out with water. And, well, they either need to get a filter or offer bottled water, because the chemical taste was jarring.

But considering the strength of everything else Lily’s has to offer, we’d even be willing to bring our own.

Las Vegas Review-Journal reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal expense. Contact Heidi Knapp Rinella at 383-0474 or e-mail her at hrinella@ reviewjournal.com.