Restaurant review: Moonlighting The soldiers were so cute, I wanted my niece to play with them We have just watched a movie about a girl with a very short attention span. She wakes up every morning with all her short memory erased, and her lover has to woo her all over again, every day. I am with four snobs, all of them think the film was too simplistic. With tears in my low-brow eyes, I admit I loved it. For one thing, the lead actor wore beautiful Hawaiian shirts, with big flowery prints, my favourite type. Lately there has been a cry about the hue of Iraq's new flag, with pundits telling us that the colours of pan-Arabism are traditionally black, white, green, and red. To make the point, one commentator dug up an ancient line of Arabic poetry that goes almost so: "White is our mood, black when we march. Green is our abode, red what we slash." I was never a big fan of the drabness of post- war Arab flags, and since this is a new phase, and we all seem open to suggestion, why not forget the old designs and go not for cold-hearted minimalism but for something warm and nice, touristy and inviting. Floral flags? The short memory loss can't be all that bad either. Wouldn't it be nice to wake up in the morning and just for an hour or so forget Mohandiseen exists? After the movie, two of the snobs go home to read books with words such as "discourse" and "paradigm" on every second line. I and the two others, no doubt drawn by something pitch black and mouldy green and dripping red in our past, go to Gamaat Al-Duwal for dinner. Soon, we find ourselves trampling over American soldiers. They are doing ditch training on the sidewalk, crawling on their bellies and firing away. They wear very small fatigues, because they are very small soldiers, and plastic. I want to buy one for my niece, but one companion protests. Why propagate violence? I promise to hand over the soldier to my niece with an illustrated copy of the Geneva conventions. And since they are not strictly soldiers, only enemy combatants moonlighting in foreign streets, the conventions, I can tell my niece, are to be used sparingly, like dusty umbrellas on a rainy summer day. The moon shines upon us from one side of Gamaat Al- Duwal, and little moons shine upon us from the other side, from the perforations of the metal-plated façade of Dar Al- Qamar, or house of the moon. My friends have eaten there before and loved the grills. The place is modern going to retro, fast-food going to slow. The entrance has an open-kitchen area, so you can see the bread getting prepared. Eye to eye contact with the dough is always helpful. Take it easy, little loaves, puff up your chests, go into the small hot room for a while, work up some tan, and meet me later upstairs. The upstairs, with a full view of Gamaat Al-Duwal, has bullet-proof windows, or so I imagine, what with all those soldiers rampaging outside. The chairs and sofas are in politically- correct green and the lighting is folklore with a modern twist, tambourines for lamp shades, tied up together with chains that are firm but not too tight as to block circulation. The place works 24 hours a day, like an advance party, and the lines of communication are reliable, except at shift change. The salads appear minutes after we order. The hommus is citeable for a medal of valour and the babaghanoug is definitely above and beyond the call of duty. The chicken shawerma is fresh and generously served. The kofta is soft and grainy like night vision during reconnaissance. The sausages are disappointing, but probably outsourced, like civilian contractors. The drinks are commendable, particularly the Gallab, grape juice with a hint of Levantine taste, and the Iran, sour milk that is mildly evil but ready to talk. Dar Al-Qamar, Gamaat Al-Duwal Al-Arabia, across from Atlas Hotel, (02) 3044529, is open around the clock. Respectable grills, comfortable seating, pan-Arab music and décor. Smoking allowed, alcohol not available. Dinner per person, LE40. The restaurant is still in its soft opening phase By Nabil Shawkat
