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.