Ma’noushe is very much a street snack, so the tactic is tantamount to putting croque monsieurs on a menu dominated by duck a l’orange and sole meuniere. But the restaurant is hereby permitted to do whatever it takes to sell more of its wonderfully satisfying man’oushe at its glassed-in takeout counter, which occupies the front half of the restaurant.

Walnut and pomegranate also figure into the signature cocktail menu, an inventive congress of global spirits and instantly recognizable Arabic pantry touchstones. Although drinking’s not the main draw here aE“ there’s no seating at the nook which functions as the bar aE“ Mamnoon has also assembled a smartly sourced wine list which never strays more than 65 miles from the Mediterranean.

Mamnoon’s sweeping, clean-lined roomaE”minimally furnished with track lighting, black tables, black chairs and a freestanding black wall between the dining area and kitchenaE”has a jangly disco energy. But if you’re going out with a group or craving more vivid flavors, Mamnoon’s the better restaurant.

Mamnoon’s sweeping, clean-lined roomaE”minimally furnished with track lighting, black tables, black chairs and a freestanding black wall between the dining area and kitchenaE”has a jangly disco energy. But if you’re going out with a group or craving more vivid flavors, Mamnoon’s the better restaurant.

The food’s terrific.

The kebab which sparked our soup delivery was excellent. Despite its name, the dish has nothing to do with dried-out meat on sticks. Rather, Mamnoon’s kebab is a skillet of tender beef tenderloin hunks, blistered tomatoes and sweet pearl onions, finessed with allspice and olive oil. Like the restaurant, the marvelous dish was very much worth the wait.

Exectuive chef Garrett Melkonian platting up the Kebab.

Exectuive chef Garrett Melkonian platting up the Kebab.

Oblong kibbeh patties, featuring impeccably-spiced beef and a pine-nut crust.

Mamnoon has a bad habit of serving up dips while the accompanying bread’s still baking, but for guests who order the muhammara, that’s a problem likely to be solved with a spoon. The paste of ground walnuts and pomegranate molasses is something like desert candy, saved from its own sweetness by a sharp dose of cumin and pepper. I’m not sure if muhammara is the French onion dip of the Middle East, but it’s awfully easy to imagine eating for hours.

If Mamnoon has a weakness, it’s perhaps a slight over-reliance on the same seasoning scheme: The garlic, cumin, parsley and sumac can add up quickly. But it’s easy enough to order around palate fatigue, seeding the table with a bright swirl of tahini and grated beets, red as a robin’s breast.

The ma’noushe, recklessly splattered with briny white cheese; split green olives; cherry tomatoes (redder than they have a right to be in January); vibrant sprigs of parsley; and young olive oil. Underlying the garnishes is a base coat of za’atar, the salty, oiled elixir of dried thyme and toasted sesame seeds.

Cook Zack Chamberlain puts the final touches on the Ma’noushe jibneh wi za’atar.

Ma’noushe isn’t as familiar to American eaters as hummus or falafel, so Mamnoon’s trying to stoke the preparation’s local reputation by serving it at dinnertime, neatly rolled and quartered. (Other concessions to western expectations include ma’amoul, customarily a filled blimp of a cookie, remade as a tart.) Ma’noushe is very much a street snack, so the tactic is tantamount to putting croque monsieurs on a menu dominated by duck a l’orange and sole meuniere. But the restaurant is hereby permitted to do whatever it takes to sell more of its wonderfully satisfying man’oushe at its glassed-in takeout counter, which occupies the front half of the restaurant.

Cook Zack Chamberlain plucking a hot pita from the oven.