Of course, the rose latte. And of course, the rose kunefe. I mean, what could possibly be wrong with that drink, and that utterly divine snack scattered with petals? I'm a sucker for beautifully perfumed rosy things, gorgeously scented orangey things. And I'm also a pushover for untweased beautiful dishes which, with a variety of textures and colors and smells, become culinary works of art. That's what we have at the family-run Telva at the Ridge (60 North Gore Avenue, Webster Groves; 314-395-2760) — an offshoot of Balkan Treat Box that has partnered with Rolling Ridge Nursery in Webster Groves and moved into the space next door. Its reputation preceded it; the rumors of this divine, mostly Bosnian food have spread far and wide in a few short months. "Telva" is on everybody's lips. If it isn't, you hope it soon will be.
Two-time James Beard semi-finalist Loryn Nalic and husband Edo Nalic's new concept, like Balkan Treat Box, is a daytime spot. Consequently, the emphasis is coffee, baked goods and breakfast that very easily doubles as lunch. The bummer is that this Telva menu gives you a glimpse of all the tastes that are possible in a kitchen, and you feel sad about your New York Times sheet pan chicken thighs, your TikTok pasta with tomatoes and feta.
It's hard to come to grips, especially, with the deliciousness of the Cilbir Turkish eggs. Hard not to feel like you could merrily eat this dish every day for the rest of your life. Everyone's been talking about it. And with good reason. Eggs may be the main event here, but there are lots of other events happening on this plate as well — the waft of gently garlic yogurt, the tangle of herbs, the deep red, deeply rich tomato chile brown butter. Once you've romped through the toasty Bosnian flatbread called somun that accompanies this Heaven-sent breakfast of gods, you'll either be using your finger to clean your plate or your tongue. I'm OK with either.
To call the Breakfast Sendvic with beef sausage a "burger" would be to liken carpaccio from Harry's Bar to Stouffer's Chipped Beef. It's nothing of the sort. The beef does come between two circles of that somun (with egg and cheese). But it's rather a gently spiced, flattened "kebab" with delicious hints of the Middle East.
Orange blossom — possibly the most gorgeous scent of all — was promised in a vinaigrette over a salad of inky greens, roasted squash, seeds and — get this — charred dates. We loved the tender baby kales and thin slivers of squash in the Tikva Salata, but the dates did not seem particularly charred and the truth is, my heart always sinks when salad comes to the table and there are sliced cross-sections of orange in it. The result, it seems to me, is always the same: Wet. But, in this instance, with Telva, I'll forgive anything, even the tedious counter ordering system, which may cut down on waitstaff (and the price of your lunch), but has you wondering — when you are 20th in line — if the wait is worth it. I'm afraid it is.
But back to that kunefe, that sweet little nest — a Middle Eastern cheese pastry wrapped and woven with shredded filo, syruped with perfumed, sugar-based attar, then nestled with chopped pistachios. Add a milky, rose-scented coffee to the mix, and life doesn't get, um, rosier. (There are petals, as well, in the Baklava Yogurt Parfait.) Don't worry: Neither the coffee nor the nest is overwhelmingly bloomy. Rosiness only sneaks into that latte. It's more a whisper, a lovely trace that you might miss if you're busy wondering how to divide the kunefe into equal parts or if you might not have to; your friend can have the scone! But, oh wait...
Just a day before my lunch at Telva, I came home trumpeting a cheese chive scone I'd stumbled across in Florissant. I was cocksure. I said, outright, it was the best I'd ever had. I didn't expect to have to renege on that unequivocal decree, although, truth is, no one had been listening to me anyway. We puzzled, my friend and I, over Telva's iteration. What was that gorgeously surprising taste, the ingredient that speckled through dough that was crumby and tender, moist; crunchy on top with glittery crystals of sugar. This soi-disant food critic had to ask a waitperson. "Basil," she said. "It's Thai basil, with sour cherries." I was beside myself.
As for Telva's interior, it's a big drafty stable without the draft, or the horses: wood beams, a colossal barn door and a huge exposed-brick wall. It could be brighter, but such is the ceiling's height — the light sources are far, far away. In the vestibule, the lower ceiling drips rather abundantly with plastic foliage, which, considering its proximity to a pretty garden center of shrubs and trees, seems out of sync. It doesn't matter. That's not the point here.
However, do be warned: After a lunch at Telva, cooking food in your own kitchen — tipping a bag of lettuce into a bowl, salt and peppering those tedious old thighs — might, like I said, be a humbling affair. But it'll get better. June is on its way, and then there'll be roses.
Telva at the Ridge is open Weds.- Sat., 8 a.m.-3 p.m. Sun., 9 a.m.-3 p.m. Closed Mon.-Tues. Send tips and feedback at Alexa Beattie at [email protected]
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