The Dish: Pat Karzai hung on to The Helmand — and helped it thrive

Two hours before the start of weekend dinner service at The Helmand, the tables are set with white cloths and two glasses at each plate. Bouquets of fresh red roses sit on the bar. Everything is in its place, just how Qayum Karzai liked things to be, said his widow, Pat, a scarf around her neck held in place with a silver loop.

After Qayum’s death in 2024, many in Baltimore wondered what would happen to The Helmand, the Mount Vernon restaurant that was synonymous with his legacy. Qayum’s elegant presence loomed large over the restaurant, which was a love letter to his home country of Afghanistan and a reminder of its better days. For months, Pat dreaded setting foot inside the dining room, facing customers and their condolences.

Born in Pittsburgh, Pat Karzai may seem an unlikely figure to lead Baltimore’s esteemed Afghan restaurant and one of its most enduring culinary landmarks. But 37 years in, she’s determined to carry on her husband’s work.

Growing up in Western Pennsylvania, she said, “We had salt, pepper, cinnamon. That was it.” She and Qayum met in Washington, D.C. She continued working in insurance after they opened the restaurant on North Charles Street in 1989, and joined The Helmand full-time in 2002.

In the late ’80s, Baltimore was “an incredibly conservative food city,” recalled restaurateur Tony Foreman. But the restaurant — and Qayum’s vision for it — made a massive impression on Foreman. “That honesty, that humanity, and the warmth and the generosity of that cooking … that really stimulated people,” he said.

The Helmand became the talk of the town, and diners fell in love with its simple, delicious food from a country they regularly read about in the news but likely never visited. Early reviewers frequently praised it as “exotic.” Soon enough, critics were calling it one of the best restaurants in Baltimore. It later made headlines when Qayum’s brother, Hamid, became the president of Afghanistan.

Over the decades, the restaurant has continued to feel the impact of events in the Middle East. Qayum ran for president of Afghanistan himself in 2014. After the chaotic withdrawal of the U.S. from the country in 2021, The Helmand welcomed some of the country’s refugees as employees.

One was Anwar Haqyar, who said he served with the U.S. Special Forces in his home country. At first, he had trouble adjusting to his new job as a back waiter — in Afghanistan, people typically served him food. But he remembers how Qayum, whom he respectfully called “rayees,” or “chief” in Pashto, advised him to stick with it. Five years later, Haqyar is now a homeowner and a U.S. citizen, and says that his stable employment history helped him with the process.

In the wake of Qayum’s death, Pat says she leaned on employees like Haqyar for support. But she faced challenges stepping into the role of “rayees.”

“It’s hard for them to listen to a woman,” she said. Her relationship with Qayum has helped. And the workers know: “I’m just trying to keep things the way that he had it.”

She’s also gotten some behind-the-scenes help from her son, Helmand Karzai, who co-owns Tapas Teatro in Station North with her. With his mom at the helm, the restaurant that shares his name is “doing great,” he said, with “small tweaks” to keep things fresh.

Because even at an institution, change is necessary. “Gone are the days where you can provide good food with good service at a good price, and you’ll be full all the time,” Helmand Karzai said. “You’re always trying to attract new customers, stay relevant for your longtime regulars, and kind of stand out from other places.”

About a year ago, Pat freshened up the Helmand’s interior, adding new artwork and reupholstering a banquette in the dining room in blue. “I read a review, and a woman said, ‘I came in and I thought the food was delicious, but it’s starting to look dated,’” Pat said. “And I thought, ‘She’s absolutely right; it is.’”

She points to a new wall hanging, an embroidered patchwork map of Afghanistan with mirrors representing the cities. She’s arranging to send one as a gift to Hamid Karzai, who still lives in Afghanistan. Other additions include framed textiles that she and Qayum purchased through their nonprofit organization, Afghans for Civil Society.

Though Pat still cries frequently when talking about her late husband, she seems to be finding her rhythm in the daily crises that occur when running a restaurant. On Friday afternoon, she needed to find a dishwasher after the Helmand’s current worker called out. “Do you know anyone?” she asked another staff member. It would be next to impossible to get a replacement quickly, she was told. Well, she shrugged. “Everybody’s going to have to pitch in.”

Among Baltimore’s restaurant community, others have pitched in to help Pat. Charisse Nichols, a longtime friend of her son who works for the city’s public market system, volunteered to take over the restaurant’s social media accounts.

“Social media didn’t exist whenever we opened,” said Helmand Karzai, who was 10 when the restaurant launched. And cocktail menus were rare. The Helmand has adjusted to the times, even as Muslim members of their staff abstain from alcohol. Diners can try a fig old-fashioned with their meal.

Nichols’ partner, Peter Serpico, a James Beard Award-winning chef and restaurant consultant, has offered his feedback on specials like lamb shank while dining at the restaurant.

“It’s definitely my favorite restaurant in Baltimore,” Serpico said, praising its warm, homey atmosphere. It starts when you walk in the door, he said; unlike many other modern eateries, the kitchen at the Helmand is right off the dining room, so diners smell food when they step inside.

The Helmand recently marked its best year since COVID, Pat said, earning more than $1 million in revenue. Still, she noted, rising expenses from labor to credit card fees are tough on a business with ever-declining profit margins. “We would not be able to support a family on what we make now,” she said.

To Serpico, the Karzais have managed a rare feat in the restaurant world: staying true to themselves rather than bending to TikTok algorithms. “They’re not scouring the internet to say, ‘Yeah, what went viral?’” he said. “Which I think is very refreshing, because they know what they want to do, and they’re sticking to it.”

The restaurant’s signature dishes haven’t changed much since opening day — its famed kaddo borwani, or baby pumpkin drizzled in yogurt garlic sauce, is still a favorite. But diners this month can also try a special called shola goshti, sticky rice with mung beans and lamb. Qayum often cooked the dish at home but thought it impossible to serve the labor-intensive dish at the restaurant. When the Helmand’s new cook said he could give it a try, however, Pat went for it.

The customers at the restaurant are also changing. Many of the old faces are gone. Serpico said he’s always struck by the diversity of the new clientele — students with parents from out of town, couples from the suburbs, people on dates.

And Pat has evolved, too. She once feared walking into the crowded dining room. But today, it’s a joy. And sometimes, below the clinking of glassware and the chatter of voices, she can feel Qayum’s presence.