Strange things, olives. Only a couple of years ago I used to recoil from the things, but now I just can't resist nibbling on them, especially when they're doused in oil, nestling in a neat little tray alongside a hefty sundried tomato and a pickled mild chilli.
My friend and I had been lured to Bar Meze in Headington by the promise of live jazz on alternate Monday evenings. In our haste, we turned up too early and decided to while away the time by strolling a few yards along the road to the newly-refurbished Co-op store, to pick up a few groceries and admire the television screens displaying assorted community information. Never let it be said I don't live dangerously.
When we returned to the restaurant, an affable and polite waiter suggested the best seats were at a table by the window.
The generic eastern Mediterranean decor included sand-coloured walls and copper-topped tables jostling for attention among curiously pointy brass ornaments.
We sank into red and yellow leather armchairs which looked extremely comfy, although they seemed better designed to recline in than to eat. They were also a bit too low to reach the table for my liking.
There was no sign of the jazz combo, who were supposed to be in situ by about 7.30pm.
Undeterred, we ordered a selection of Turkish meze from the menu, after a brief inquiry about the prices -- various numbers were listed on the side, but not pound signs -- and tucked in with relish.
Not literally, as the food was flavoursome enough not to need more sauce. We ordered nine hot and cold meze dishes for £16, as well as pitta bread and saut potatoes.
The service was efficient without being pushy. The smiling waitress offered fresh plates after we had finished off the tapas-type dish that had been left on the table (and which seemed to be free, I noted approvingly on seeing the bill later).
While the gleaming white trays were not much bigger than a chunky pub ashtray, we struggled to finish their contents.
We opted for sliced sausage in a mild tangy sauce, giant beans, humus, rocket and parmesan salad, yoghurt with cucumbers, Albanian-style lamb's liver, pastry parcels filled with soft cheese, Turkish pizza and stuffed vine leaves.
Several dishes came with salad and lemon wedges, which was reassuring given the fairly dry, rich consistency of the pitta, the pastry parcels and the pizza. The pizza was thin and crispy, topped with a layer of mince and herbs, great for dipping in the cool, minty yoghurt.
The vine leaves were sumptious, not as sweet or sticky as Lebanese-style ones I had tasted previously, and tender enough to yield easily to a couple of prods of the fork.
Liver isn't to everyone's taste, but much of this prejudice is based on the misconception the meat is rubbery. When sliced in soft slivers dusted with herbs, as it was here, it can prove a winner.
The humus was fresh and rich, moist but without a puddle of olive oil sitting on top that could dampen the appetite. Not over-laden with garlic, it was an excellent accompaniment to the potatoes, which were sprinkled with herbs, paprika and onion.
The rocket was tart and peppery as it should be, laden with flakes of parmesan the size of a thumbnail rather than mere shavings.
But the sausage -- resembling a commercial-looking cluster of Frankfurter slices -- was a disappointment, however, as were the beans. Giant they may have been, but they were also bland and came with nothing other than a thin tomato sauce.
As a hardened espresso drinker, I felt let down by the coffee. Its sour rather than bitter taste suggested it had been made with cheap robusta beans rather than arabica, and although billed as an espresso, it wasn't the treacly infusion I had been hankering for. I had no complaints about the Efes pilsener.
There was no question of us having the appetite to sample the desserts, such as the nutty, sweet pastry, baklava.
By the time we were two-thirds the way through our meal, at about 8.15pm, the jazz musicians arrived, apparently having travelled from London.
By this time a gaggle of fans had drifted in, some of whom sat at the bar rather than at tables. Clearly our fellow diners were jazz aficionados -- one woman was even smoking Gitanes.
And it was worth waiting for. A mixture of low-key and uptempo rhythms, featuring a piano, double bass and saxophone as well as faintly husky female vocals.
The jazz started off as tinkly and mellow, but gradually became loud enough to become slightly intrusive for anyone wanting a quiet conversation, although many people were content to tap a foot and nod appreciatively -- as I did.
It won't be long before I'm back to tackle those desserts.
Bar Meze, 146 London Road, Headington, Oxford. 01865 761106
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