Restaurant review:
Ramadan nights
At two am, Yasmine El-Rashidi mingles with goats as she savours traditional delights
Although Ramadan is about people, gatherings, community and culture-- a time when company, in theory, is more important than cuisine--sometimes you just have to do things your own way. Thus it was, steering clear of the all-frills, party-all-night Khiyam (Ramadan tents), I headed downtown.
At two am, downtown Cairo is relatively still. The odd kiosk remains lit. A few men here and there wander with their friends. Only the zooming by of cars on empty streets unsettles the sleeping air. Turning one street corner, however, can make a world of difference.
Lucky me: I hit a culinary explosion. Oozing out of the shop and into the street, are hordes of the hungry.
My friend and I navigate through the gathering of mostly young men munching their sandwiches on the sidewalk, and we carefully push our way through the crowds and noise and bustle of the store. Amid the heat, smells, and juggling of plates and trays, orders and requests, we stand quietly -- minutes or days pass -- and scan the extensive menu. Fuul with eggs, with garlic, with salad, in a sandwich or in a bowl. Taamiya with sesame, with eggs, with eggplant. Eggplant sandwiches, potato sandwiches, fetir (plate-sized pastry) with coconut, honey, cream, or savoury. Pizza, shawerma (chicken or meat), stuffed pigeon, grilled kofta (grilled, ground meat). Crème caramel, fresh juice, rice pudding. And more.
We go simple: fuul iskandarani (with parsley, garlic and onion), in sandwiches. Taamiya sandwiches with sesame, tehina and salad. Fresh orange juice and fetir with honey for desert.
The process of collecting the items is a delight in itself -- each counter offering food- takers a display of culinary mastery. The fetir- maker lassoing a small piece of dough in the air, twirling it round and round on his hand and slamming it down with a slap on the counter, miraculously now thinner than paper and larger than a car tyre. Within a second it is expertly folded into a rectangle and hurled into an old furnace-style oven.
The next counter houses two traditional bread furnaces, trays of pita bread being slid in and out. At the fuul and taamiya counter, 10 men manoeuvre skilfully around each other, stuffing sandwiches, mixing dips, and passing bags and bread and plates through the air.
We collect our food and venture outside. Lining one side of this fuul and taamiya store is an alleyway filled with tables, decked with lanterns, and livened with Christmas lights and Arabic music.
We sit and indulge -- who cares what the time is? The fuul is tasty: perfectly spiced, tangy, but not overwhelming, garlic-laden but not overpowering. The bread is hot, fresh and soft. Not the usual chewy-type one finds on the streets.
Neither my friend nor I are big fans of taamiya, but one of several wandering goats that found its way into my friend's face seemed to be enticed.
The fetir was a big hit. Just the right sweetness and a manageable amount of grease! Downed with fresh juice, and topped with the raucous atmosphere of laughing parents and happily high- strung children, the night proved enchanting. Our bill: LE10. Delivery is also an option.
GAD downtown 26th july street
