Uzbekistan

The power to voyage to an exotic land - without ever actually leaving Philadelphia - is one of the best tricks an eating city can offer.

One moment I'm driving up I-95 to Woodhaven Road, weaving my way through the rainy Northeast toward Bustleton Avenue. The next moment, I'm in the parking lot of Uzbekistan (the restaurant), dreamily approaching the front door on a heavenly cloud of charcoal-roasted lamb smoke, puffing in my direction from the kitchen chimney.

There was an Italian place here not long ago, but it feels more like Moscow or Tashkent now as I part the stylishly dressed crowds of Russian-speaking smokers gathered outdoors. I step inside the big plastic tent affixed to the building's front terrace, and there's a party of young revelers at long tables (their vodka bottles in perpetual motion) who cheer when platters of onion-heaped skewered meats arrive.

A bit farther on inside the actual restaurant, its intimate nooks separated by cake-icing stucco arches, there are numerous celebrations going on, too. An elderly couple fetes its anniversary over plates of handmade dumplings, pickled mushrooms and vodka toasts, including a "Gorko! Gorko! Gorko!" cheer from tablemates who chant in Russian ("Bitter! Bitter! Bitter!") until the silver-haired couple finally kiss ("Sweet!!"). At a big table in the other corner, meanwhile, a mountainous rice platter of lamb plov arrives for another group, where a sleepy-eyed baby is hoisted high - well after 10:30 p.m. - for a rousing first-birthday cheer.

They train them young in Russian Northeast Philly to party late into the night. And they feed them well, too, with course upon course of hand-rolled noodles, earthy soups, and charcoal-grilled shashlik skewers that bring an authentic taste of the homeland to the Bustleton Avenue borscht belt.

"I must say I'm impressed," said my daughter's Moscow-born piano teacher, who, with her husband, helped us navigate the menu.

Without the aid of a native speaker, an evening in the Russian restaurant corridor might be a bit intimidating to an outsider - especially in one of the neighborhood's more typical Russian venues, which tend to be big nightclubs with banquet menus and live disco floor shows (though places like Golden Gates can be a real trip under the right circumstances).