Restaurant review
Blind date
Injy El-Kashef is back with a vengeance
After we'd agreed on what to eat and where to find it, the day and the hour, my dining partner-to-be raised a rather crucial detail: how would we identify each other? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was going on a blind date. It wasn't really all that blind; only one-eyed. I knew who I was dining with: the friend of a dear friend (both Egyptian expatriates) in Cairo for a short visit. We agreed to have dinner, and talk about the past and the future of Egypt.
One gets a little nervous when meeting someone for the first time over food. What if he turned out to be a very unpleasant and boring person? Or worse, (much worse), what if I knocked a glass on the table, as is my notorious habit, or splashed spaghetti sauce all over my face and clothes as I sucked the long pasta strands in? You wonder what to wear; you don't want to make them feel underdressed, and you don't want to show up in your jeans and sneakers either because you know you look better in a skirt and heels. I went for the skirt and heels, relying on the fact that I am a very silly person -- so there is no way I would come across as a snob even if he showed up in a pair of shorts.
He doesn't do Chinese (after tasting real Chinese he developed a serious aversion to the commercial version), and so we opted for the new Italian restaurant at the Semiramis, Pane Vino. Now, that place turned out to be perfect for the occasion: spacious and cozy with a fantastic Nile view (the second floor being just the right distance for a detached, yet close look at the black shimmering waters) it puts you at ease the minute you set your posterior on the chair. The waiters are beyond welcoming, they hover around you in the dim light as if to guess your every wish; they smile, they oblige, they flitter and flutter, until your facial expressions reveal evidently enough that you are satisfied.
The menu, long but simple, required quite a bit of examination. Eventually, he settled for a Lasagna Al Forno and I for a Conchigli ala Boscaiola. When in an Italian restaurant, have pasta and, if you can, name your dishes in their mother-tongue, leaving the waiter with the task of deciphering what it is you just uttered. A little touch of sadism never hurt anyone.
With a glass of red Omar Khayam each, we nibbled on our food slowly, as the conversation (my blind date turning out to be anything but boring or unpleasant) kept branching out into dozens of interesting side-topics. But that also tells you that the food, although perfectly satisfactory, was not of the kind that renders you unable to focus on anything else but hoovering the contents of your plate.
His terribly fresh house-made lasagna was piled neatly into a short tower covered in a thick sauce which I envied, as my green and white conchigli suffered a rather dry existence. I expected a rich and creamy sauce for them to bathe in along with garlic and mushroom chunks, as promised by the menu. What I ended up with was good, but fell far short of expectations. Don't get me wrong, I totally enjoyed my meal, though I have a vague feeling that the company is largely to thank for that.
With a bottle of water, a cup of tea and an espresso, this meal came to LE175.
Pane Vino, Semiramis Intercontinental, Nile Corniche
Tel 795 7171
