Restaurant review: No Turkish delight Ataturk shows off very little of the traditional culinary verve that makes the Turkish cuisine so unique, laments Gamal Nkrumah There is something in the air, something not quite right. We stumble into Ataturk, somewhere deep in the heart of Mohandessin, Giza. And as far as I am concerned, Turkish cuisine is a cauldron of intense emotions. But alas, there is nothing passionate about the place. Be that as it may, the dishes do come in cauldrons galore. But, they do no justice to the wonderful world of Turkish cooking. Turks are blessed with one of the world's most sophisticated cuisines. The vast country straddles Europe and Asia. And, it has borrowed from both, and has given to both continents of its opulent abundance. Turkey is geographically akin to a plump dolma (or stuffed vegetable), proudly protruding into the waters of four seas: the Black, Marmara, the Aegean and the Mediterranean. Fish -- bonito served with argula and red onions, or turbot eaten with cos lettuce -- are delicacies divine. And, the anchovy-like hamsi, is prepared in more than 40 different ways. Alas, hamsi was nowhere to be found on Ataturk's menu. Turkish bread is like no other. Ekmek, pide and simit to name just a few are a tasty testament to the Turkish legend that claims that the Biblical, or Quranic, Adam -- the patron saint of bakers, learnt his trade from the Archangel Gabriel after being banished from the Garden of Eden. The bread at Ataturk was passable, but there was no lokum, the Turkish delights of perfumed gelled sweets rolled in aromatic powdered sugar. More than 600 centuries of Ottoman Empire and centuries of Hittite, Hellenic, Persian and Byzantine rule have imbued contemporary Turkish cuisine with a very special character. For me personally, Turkish cuisine is about figs, fish and fillings. It also resonates with such seductive names as Lady's lips, Lady's navel and Lady's thighs' meatballs, perhaps a legacy of the legendary harems of the Top Kapi, or Sultan's Palace that towered over the historical Constantinople, today's Istanbul. The city, in its heyday, was the capital of the world -- an empire that stretched from Algeria in the west to Iraq and Azerbaijan in the east. And, from Vienna in the north to Khartoum in the south. The Sultan's kitchen was the nerve centre of this vast domain, the animating dynamic of Ottoman politics. The expression "overturning the cauldron" was used by the janissaries, the elite corps of Ottoman troops, when plotting a palace coup. Kemal Ataturk, the founder of modern Turkey, failed to undo the wonders of the Ottoman Sultans' kitchens. But, it seems that Ataturk the restaurant, managed to do just that. There isn't a palatable answer to the predicament of Ataturk. It is neither Turkish nor is it particularly Egyptian. Ataturk is a nice enough eatery, but it doesn't have the authentic Turkish dishes that lure true connoisseurs of the Turkish cuisine. Not that everyone takes that discrepancy with equanimity. My partner bitterly complained that the dubious fare on offer is not authentic Turkish cuisine. "The ingredients are not quite so fresh as they are in Istanbul, everything tastes different," she blurted out in despair. The chicken Sharkassia, pilic cerkezey, was not bad. This particular dish is especially popular with certain Egyptian families with Turkish roots. Ataturk's pilic cerkezey is a far cry from the world famous dish served in Turkey with such aplomb. "I am thoroughly disappointed," she cried. The chicken top kapi, roast and stuffed with perfumed rice, was delectable, though. The stuffing was mouthwateringly good. That was about the only dish that had a taste of Turkey. We skipped the Osmanli sarma, rolled beef filet filled with a nut-based Turkish stuffing, and served with vegetables and rice. I personally, opted for a typically Egyptian meal -- fatta with moza, lamb, garlic and tomato rice with bread. The meat was succulent and the sauce delicious, but my mind wandered off to the Turkish dishes I craved -- the zeyingali, the mild olive oil appetisers; the sis kebap, morsels of lamb grilled over charcoal; the döner kebaps, rolled lamb; and my favourite, manti -- dumplings stuffed with spicy ground meat drenched in garlic yoghurt, melted butter and paprika. It is the fresh Turkish fish that I miss the most: sardines rolled in vine leaves and mackerel stuffed with pilaf rice. Then there is the familiar sahlep (Egyptian sahleb ); pastirma (our own basterma ); and the unique Turkish spring peaches, summer figs, autumn quince, and winter mandarines. And, last but not least nar, pomegranate. Ataturk Riyadh Street, off Shehab Street Mohandessin, Giza Tel: 02 347 5135/305 5832 Dinner for two: LE160
