Gamarjoba is giving Georgian cuisine its big Philly restaurant moment

The shots of chacha landed on our table, and though the little glasses were chilled, the clear Georgian brandy burned on the way down with the fruity, fragrant fire that only distilled grapes can deliver.

Whew!

That was a bracing welcome to the bustling “balcony” at Restaurant Gamarjoba, which really isn’t a balcony at all.

That’s just the name the regulars have given the long and airy new hall that now extends behind this thriving restaurant on Bustleton Avenue down little Warwick Street. Until this spring, it was still an open-air patio. But it has since been enclosed into a sunny, air-conditioned veranda, its tall ceilings hung with sails and flat-screen TVs playing travel scenes from the Georgian motherland. And with a bar flowing with Saperavi wine and Pennsylvania-brewed Georgian-style beers (Gamarjoba calls this its “beer garden”), as many as 200 diners regularly pack the space on weekend nights, feasting on platters of kebabs, fenugreek-scented stews, juicy khinkali dumplings, and regional variations of khachapuri cheese breads.

“We are only just now making our first steps to introducing our cuisine to Americans,” a manager told me, noting that phonetically pronounced,
Gamarjoba means “hello” in Georgian.

I’ve been writing about the growth of Georgian restaurant and bakery options for at least 15 years as they’ve continued to sprout in Northeast Philadelphia and Lower Bucks County, where immigrants from the republics of the former Soviet Union have traditionally settled. Approximately 25,000 people of Georgian descent live in the Philadelphia region, according to honorary local consul Hersh Kozlov. And at least 80% of Gamarjoba’s customers originate from Georgia or other republics such as Ukraine, Uzbekistan, or Russia, which shared the same country (and a taste for one another’s foods) for nearly 70 years.

The wider Philadelphia awakening to the distinctive wonders of Georgia’s cuisine has already taken root, as the khachapuri sailed into its Center City spotlight during the past year. You can order an impressive variety of the Georgian cheese breads — most notably the boat-shaped Adjaruli style — at the sleekly designed Saami Somi stand at Reading Terminal Market. Siblings Michael and Donna Kolodesh have taken a modern approach to their heritage, offering the open-faced ovals filled with cheese baked to order with toppings ranging from a raw egg yolk and a pat of butter (the classic) to hot honey, walnuts, and Brie. A Soviet-style throwback black bread version fragrant with caraway called the Borodinsky is also worth a try.

You’ll find a more traditional approach at Sakartvelo, a bi-level BYOB on Chestnut Street whose ground floor is often eerily quiet, save for the mannequin couple dressed in giant fur hats and traditional wedding robes. Its second floor dining room, though, is usually busy with diners savoring platters of khinkali, roasted veal chops, and pots of lobo bean stews. Sakartvelo is owned by a longtime Northeast Philly favorite, Georgian Bread, whose domed toné bread hearth produces pointy-ended shoti loaves worth the drive.

A trip to Northeast Philly, though, has never been more essential than since the emergence of Gamarjoba, which replaced the Muscovite/Transylvanian-themed Cafe Lava in 2019. The restaurant saw a temporary blow to business at the outset of Russia’s war on Ukraine in early 2022, when many diners stayed home. But the renovation completed in March has energized a restaurant that now represents an exciting next step for Georgian restaurants in Philly on several levels.

The clever use of a brewer’s license has opened the door for a bar, which, given Georgia’s historic role as the cradle of wine, is significant. I’m also a fan of the Vienna-style Kasri amber lager that Gamarjoba produces along with several other beers through a local contract brewer. But the Georgian wines, which are bottled in Pennsylvania, are the way to go for a big meal. These aren’t high-end bottles. These are affordable, easy-to-drink table wines, topping out at $25 a bottle, that are a natural pairing for the distinctive spices of this hearty cuisine, from a deep red Saperavi (good for grilled meats) to the tropical fruit notes of an Rkatsiteli or the complex blend of the delicate white called Tsinandali. (Nonalcoholic Georgian tarragon soda or fruit “compote” punch are also excellent options.)

Gamarjoba’s main building is not unlike that of several post-Soviet venues in the neighborhood, a dimly lit warren of private rooms, with lush chiffon draperies and a disco ball twinkling over a dance floor whirling to the Europop tunes of live performers. Eating there can occasionally feel like crashing someone else’s anniversary gala (or sometimes several simultaneously). The renovated veranda, however, offers a far more accessible vibe for diners not linked to a large private party.

The bright room and outgoing service also shine a light on what were some of the best versions of this traditional cuisine I’ve tasted, as chef David Tsutsumia’s kitchen displayed a deft touch with layered flavors, careful cooking, and high quality ingredients.

I can still savor the cascading juices of the halal lamb chops and thick-cut kebabs, which get marinated for 24 hours, then cooked over coals low and slow, as opposed to the hotter, quicker sear of Uzbek-style grilling. The ground meat lula kebabs of chicken, lamb, or mixed beef and pork are scented with barberries and sumac and as good as any I’ve tasted, especially with liberal dips into tkemali sauces made in two colors, with tart green or ripe red plums, blended with herbs like savory and pennyroyal.

I love those kebabs! But there are other items where Georgia’s unique cuisine is at its most obvious. The giant beggar’s purse dumplings called khinkali are essential, with knob-like handles of dough on top to grip as you bite its pleated noodle wall and slurp its juice from inside. Its resemblance to Shanghainese soup dumplings is a clue to this country’s strategic location in Eurasia along the Silk Road trade route — legends suggest the dumplings arrived in the 13th century during the Mongol Empire invasion. But their various stuffings — pork and beef are standard, but spiced lamb was my favorite — are unmistakably Georgian.

The sampler starter of cold vegetable purees called phkali are where Georgia’s love of crushed walnuts is most vivid, thickening mashed beets and green beans into multicolored dips scattered with sweet-tart pomegranate seeds, while roulades of eggplant and roasted red pepper are filled with a pureed walnut stuffing that radiates garlic without crossing the line into too much.

The shqmeruli, which brought a butterflied roasted Cornish hen atop a hot bath of garlic cream, was another winning example of balance — the bird both juicier than most dry renditions I’ve tasted elsewhere, the rich sauce bold but not overbearing. I tasted the layers of spicing in the ostri beef stew, which complemented the aromatics of Georgia’s currylike khmeli sunelli, perfumed with mild blue fenugreek, turmeric, coriander, and savory, with the fresh vegetal crunch and green heat of finely shaved hot pepper rings scattered on top. The spicy rice and beef soup of kharcho used a more fenugreek-forward utskho sunelli to give its broth earthy power.

Georgians prove time and again that artfully seasoned rustic cooking sometimes can be the richest meal of all, like the lobio stew, which arrives in a traditional clay pot filled with silkily mashed red beans laced with vividly aromatic spices. Pair this Western Georgian dish with crispy chvishtari corn cakes enriched with sulguni cheese, which are perfect for dipping.

Gamarjoba’s bakery, meanwhile, produced the best khachapuris I’ve eaten in Philly. The classic canoe-shaped Adjaruli, named for its origin region, is notable for the delicate snap and thinness of its crust. Its dough is enriched with enough yogurt and eggs to hold a boatload of blended Georgian cheeses which, when mixed with the raw yolk and butter on top, turn into a luxuriously golden pudding. The dough for the round Imeruli khachapuri is completely different, and so is its cheese, a blend of brined sulguni with younger Imeruli, the cheese for which the dish is named. I’ve had few cheese pizzas I liked better. The Kubdari khachapuri is a double-crusted meat-lover’s beauty filled with cuminy minced beef seasoned with garlic salt from Svaneti in the Caucasus Mountains beside the Black Sea.

After such a feast, I could hardly think of dessert — but it’s worthwhile nonetheless. There’s a muscat-poached pear with a thick white sauce that’s delicious. But the old-fashioned napoleon surprised me. We’d taken one to-go after our first visit and it was a soggy mess by the time we got home. Eaten fresh on “the balcony” at our second meal, however, this brick-size delight was like a trick box of flaky pastry and creamy fluff, at once airy and magnetically rich. It’s more sweet proof that Northeast Philly remains an essential destination to experience Georgian cooking at it best.

13033 Bustleton Ave., 215-677-6070; gamarjoba.us

Menu served daily, 10 a.m. to 10 p.m.

Wheelchair accessible.

Street parking and free parking in a neighboring strip mall parking lot.