Across the Steppes..

The other day, I went to Ma'adi, that leafy suburb of Cairo where most of the streets are identified by number. You might expect that that would simplify things - after all, street 1 would be next to street 2, surely? Not so. It has been a source of some irritation that the streets appear to be randomly numbered, with street 2 just as likely to be next to street 1 as it is to street 31. 

Fortunately, I recently invested in a new smartphone, and about the only app that I have used so far is the GPS. And so, it was to my amazement that I was able to direct my taxi driver to street 233 with nary a wrong turn. 

At the end of this navigational triumph was a tiny little restaurant called Genghis Khan, which claims to serve up Mongolian and northern Chinese food. It's hard to spot (but it's opposite Crocs, the shoe shop), and that's partly because it only has 4 or 5 tables. We were lucky to get a slot, and had we arrived a few moments later, we'd have been turned away.

The menu offers a bewildering array of dishes ranging from standard Chinese to more unusual offerings. Fortunately for our party, we had a long-time resident of China in our midst, and he directed us towards the hotpot, a fondu-like dish served up with raw beef, lamb, cabbage, spinach and much more besides.

The photograph, alas, does not do the dish justice. On the left side is a spicy watery sauce, on the right a milder concoction, into which diners drop slathers of raw meat, tofu, vegetables and noodles, and wait for them to cook.

The next step is to scoop them out into one's plate and mix it up with minced garlic and a sesame sauce. Although I'm not normally a fan of sesame, particularly tahini, this was an inspired mixture that set off the meat beautifully.

For those not into sharing, it is perfectly possible to order up the usual Chinese dishes (with a twist). Apart from the ubiquitous sweet and sour chicken, the menu also offered Kung Pao chicken, a flavourful Szechuan dish served up with peanuts, delicious egg-fried rice, as well as some good side dishes, such as sesame-coated green beans.

A hotpot with a smattering of side dishes and a Kung Pao chicken, with beer, set us back 80 L.E. per person, making it a very affordable night out. An excellent spot for dinner.

3, Road 233, Maadi. Cost: approx 80-100 L.E. per person if sharing. Beer served (no wine).

Fishing with a baby

You have to be slightly keen to walk from Zamalek to Mohandiseen. You have to be super keen to walk there with a pram and a nine month old baby. It's hardly the prettiest of ambles, and one has to climb a rather torturous flight of stairs to cross the Nile, and navigate the Cairo traffic without the benefit of a pavement. At least, though, there is a rewarding view of Cairo's houseboats, a now endangered species.

When we arrived, slightly bedraggled, our initial glimpse of Samakmak wasn't the most inspiring. "Outside dining" in Samakmak's case meant tables under a plastic awning, but it was pleasant, at least. And although it was empty when we arrived around 2 pm, the place started to fill with diners over the next couple of hours.

In Samakmak, as far as we could see, there is no menu. You are ushered over to the fish, chilled in ice, and told to choose, the prices set by the kilo. We went for king-sized prawns and Sea Bass, and told the chef to do his worst.

As we waited for our fish, our waiter served up a selection of salads - not the usual Arabic mezze, but rather more original offerings, such as fish salad, and cheese dishes.  When our prawns arrived, we rather regretted that we had only ordered half a kilo. They were simply delicious. Slathered in a buttery sauce, they tasted fresh and meaty. The grilled Sea Bass - 700 grammes - was also good, but perhaps less memorable. I slightly feel that all white fish tastes much the same. For which I shall probably be branded some kind of Philistine.

A good lunchtime place. Possibly an even better dinner place.

Samakmak, 24 Ahmed Oraby, Mohandiseen. Cost - approx 160-200 L.E. per person. No alcohol.

Some camel liver with that?

One gets the impression that few venture over to Imbaba unless they have a very good reason for doing so. Densely packed, Imbaba is one of Cairo's poorest neighbourhoods. But it does have a rather good restaurant..

Kebdet al-Prince. As its name suggests, it gas a weakness for kidney, and any other kind of offal you might care to name. And as a less than adventurous diner, it isn't somewhere that I would normally choose to go. But when my Arabic teacher invited my classmate and I to dinner, I could hardly refuse, even after he dangled camel liver as a carrot.

But the restaurant is so much more than an offal place. From a distance, we could see that the place was "it." It was buzzing. Large banquet tables had been laid out on the pavements, and they were thronged with a mostly young crowd, with waiters mopping up and laying new places at a dizzying speed.

We took our seats, and my tutor, Mohammed, took charge, and ordered us a sampling. First up was Molokheya (Mloukhieh), Arabic for Jew's Mallow (pictured left). I'm told that you either love Egypt's national dish, or hate it. I hate it. I am probably doing it a huge injustice, but to me, it is a slimy, green soup which looks and moves like pondweed. And doesn't taste much better.

Next up was a lamb tagine (pictured on right of the picture), packed with meat and potatoes, and which was extremely tasty. Next came camel liver (I passed, but it was heartily approved by my fellow diners), and thin slices of roasted lamb in a slightly spicy sauce (bottom right of picture). The sausages (left of picture), coated in what I think might have been an oil lemon marinade, were my favourite, however.

Once we'd made quick work of the food, it was time to mop up. The next group of diners was already waiting to take our place. Here's no place to linger, although I'm sure I will be coming back.

Kebdet el-prince, 87 Talaat Harb St., Imbaba, Cairo. Cost - around 50 L.E. per person. No alcohol.

A dagger at my waist...

And so to Yemen.

I walked into this place with some trepidation, noting from the doorway its entirely male clientele. Nervously, I scanned the room for a separate female area, but saw none. Not to be deterred by the first hurdle, however, I walked in as unobtrusively as possible, and scurried over to the nearest table where I could sit with my back to the rest of the customers, and pretend they didn't exist.

Outside of the region, Yemeni food is perhaps not that well known. I have twice travelled to Yemen, once on holiday, and once as a reporter following the thwarting of the underpants bomber on a plane over Detroit. Both times, I was rewarded with some surprisingly good fare. Perhaps the most traditional of Yemen's food is Salta, a kind of green stew, made with (as far as I could see) whatever ingredients are close to hand. Although delicious, after having it every day during my first trip, it soon began to pall.

Another memorable culinary experience in Yemen was in its southern city, Aden, where I sampled perhaps the finest roasted chicken I have ever tasted. And it was this memory that inspired me to play safe at Yemen (the restaurant) and order chicken and rice, which arrived with a spicy tomato chutney, a clear yellow meat-based broth, and some deliciously doughy Yemeni bread to mop it all up.

As I ate, I watched the restaurant's clientele come and go. Particularly rewarding was the sight of Arab men who looked like they had walked straight out of the desert. One feels that it wouldn't be all that unusual to see customers devour a sheep's head. Yemen is one of the few places, I feel, that seems relatively untarnished by time. The locals still dress in the manner of their forefathers, a dagger clasped to their waist.

By the time I finished my meal (good, but not exceptional, but then I did opt for arguably the most boring dish on the menu), I still lacked the courage to face the male customers and head to the back to wash my hands. Perhaps I'll do better next time. Will there be a next time? I think so, but there's some way to go before they can rival Aden's chicken.

Yemen, 10 Iran Street, Dokki, Cairo

Beginnings

It's slightly scary starting a blog. I have no idea if anybody will ever read this, or if I am merely writing this for my own amusement. Actually, part of it is that I feel compelled to set myself a challenge or two in a bid to become better acquainted with Cairo, the city to which my husband, baby daughter and I moved three months ago.

Cairo is a wonderful city. We moved here from Jerusalem, where we lived three years. The two cities couldn't be more different. Cairo is a teeming Middle Eastern metropolis with a vibrant social and cultural scene, and a fascinating history. Jerusalem, by contrast, felt at times stifled by the weight of history and conflict.

But back to the point of this blog. We live in Zamalek, the area populated by the British during colonial times, and now home to embassies, consulates and a large expatriate community. As such, it is something of a bubble, and it is all too easy to spend one's days here, exploring the galleries, whiling away hours in atmospheric little cafes, sitting on our terrace... but it's not the real Cairo, and so I set myself a challenge of exploring the city's cuisine, Egyptian and everything else. Where I can, I will take photos, where I can, I will avoid posting about the humdrum, the chains... and if you should ever chance upon this blog, I hope you might draw some inspiration for fun dining in Cairo.