Restaurant review:

Going lunar

Tender -- but not thrilling -- is the night

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Gar Al-Amar (which means, let it be clarified at the outset, "neighbour of the moon") is one of those places one can not usually enter without a slight sense of adventurousness. Not popular enough to have developed a reputation, and with no devil in any visible detail, it inspires -- well, uncertainty.

You go "because it's there" -- to borrow the words of the first man to climb Mount Everest when asked why he had attempted the feat.

Well, an initial mezza platter brought us delicious sambousek and kobeiba, succulent tabboula and terrible vine leaves. We were done in a flash with one of each for both and thankfully did not wait for our main courses too long.

The kofta was juicy and tender, not the oversized rubber band one is condemned to elsewhere. The entire selection on my Mixed Grill platter, in fact, was tender and seasoned with an array of ingredients as to make the end result mild yet potent -- nothing in the vein of an extra pinch of salt, too little onion and greens, or any such major blunder. Also noteworthy was the assortment of cuts itself. After all, no self- respecting eater should ever underestimate the importance of a balanced range of textures and flavours in any platter with a common denominator.

"And how is your..." The question was cut short by the sight of my eating companion, cigarette in hand, savouring the first post-meal drag.

The emphasis here is on "post-meal" -- for the Shish Tawouk had but landed on the table only seconds ago. On my last encounter with it, the chicken pieces were being neatly aligned on soft shami bread and rolled Levant-style. Taking my eyes off the Shish Tawouk to look around, I located the waiter, and kindly bid him over. Then I began my question as my head turned back to the table -- and was caught in my tracks by the sight of that innocent face lighting up with satisfaction, completely unaware that the world record in speed eating had just been broken. "What? It was good, and I was hungry," were the episode's famous last words in response to my shock and awe.

A round of Turkish coffee revealed another surprise. At Gar Al-Amar, you will get the amount of sugar you desire -- at last I could relish an ahwa 'al-riha as it is meant to be: not sugarless, but you can swear, sincerely, it is not sweet. The coffee was the perfect transition to dessert, both bean-quality and taste-bud wise, as it laid the neutral foundation upon which the palate could receive renewed stimulation.

We ordered balah al-shaam (literally translated as Levantine Dates but actually bearing no reciprocity to the fruit whatsoever) because it is often a tricky test. With balah al-shaam specifically, the batter must yield beignet-like doughnuts when fried. They must be a pale shade of gold, and they must be bright. They mustn't be soggy with syrup; it shouldn't actually be visible to the eye, but permeate the beignets and rest within, light and not too sweet. And they should be small, not the hand rifle size one commonly finds at oriental patisseries. And at Gar Al-Amar the balah al-shaam was all that; it would have been perfectly perfect -- had it been fresh.

Although we were, when all was said and done, rather satisfied with all the courses of our meal, the bill still seemed hefty, although it was well within the reasonable lunch-for-two range. It is something to do with the layout of the place perhaps, or the waiters' nonchalant attitude, which belittles the value of the ambiance. Had they been a trifle more affable perhaps, showed a little more care, one would have been happier with the required sum. A diner needs to feel the love in the air.

Three-course meal for two: LE118
Gar Al-Amar
Doqqi

By Injy El-Kashef