Restaurant review: The Verge of Slick Male chauvinism in lair of the dispossessed The Heir is trying to open a harem in the spare room of his new flat. His micromanaging father, inches away from a coronary as he struggles to pass on the family business to he who values sleeping in and "having a life", must understand it's not a brothel. "It's about respect," exclaims the Heir, "for women and the work they can do!" This must be Hamza and Nicha's target customer. The "sophisticated reveller": conflicted, troubled, definitely flawed, but still looking damn good acting out the drama that is his life in a trendy eatery. The idea being that post- modern despair can render your life substantial if framed in the right light. So, "stylishly informal" we cruise down to check for wrinkles in White's latest facelift (now dubbed White-Zen to denote the recent Far-Eastern influence), and snack on some noodles. Grey walls are lit with orange sidelights and a like- coloured festive twinkle from the ceiling. Deep blue sofas line one side of restaurant, buffered from the bar with tall inverted-obelisk stools, truly one of catchiest decorative touches around, a roaring success in the land of hip. Slightly odd, however, are the traditional qahwa chairs and the strips of yellow-and-black tablecloth reminiscent of Grandma's favourite stain-incorporating carpet. Eclecticism, it seems, didn't neglect the worn. This slightly decrepit undercurrent has its own charm, reflecting the clientele's inherent dispossession and external tastes more genuinely, as opposed to the slickness they crave. A young blonde fussily conducts an orchestra of waiters reluctant to exert themselves but flashing unwavering ingratiatory grins. As they move tables and wipe spots they've missed under her domineering command the Heir feels prompted to recount his recent colourful escapades with various prostitutes. I change the subject, reviving our earlier discussion of beautiful redhead teens that commit to inferior nerds and the importance of establishing an NGO that quarantines them safely in asylums where decisions can be made for them. Hungry, we're grateful when the food arrives promptly, and we forgive the waiters their cockiness because they've mastered the art of beer pouring. The spring rolls are bland and served with soy sauce. The beef curry, Pat-Nang, has a deliciously tangy sweetness, which cuts the spice effectively. The petit, "chic" portions, a classically risky choice that can only be gotten away with if the food is superb, come across as, err... parsimonious. And the Phad Thai raises eyebrows. Chunky, lacking peanuts, which were replaced with carrots and, inexcusably, broccoli, we address the blonde and, it appears, she has a name. Julia, who purports to be the manager, is unclear which Chef is working today, and undecided about finding out. "If you're gonna do Asian food," blurts out the Heir, "you need an Asian cooking it!" The charming simpleton sure can be pithy. One call to management and everything falls into place. Chef Niswong has taken a leave of absence. Chef Kasparov is holding the fort by himself, working on finessing a mezze -style miniature menu, where an array of four bite- sized dishes graces your table for the price of one. Currently Mediterranean with a few local touches (including molokhiya ) the menu is in constant flux, but the Thai menu is being set for delivery. And, hired to assist the manager and lend an orderly hand, it was Julia's third day on the job. I relay this to the Heir and he receives visions of recruitment. He has plans for Julia, envisioning a one woman PR-team that strictly observes the creed of obedience and doubles as a refuge from his subservient girlfriend. Feeling magnanimous, and full, we forgive them their identity crisis cuisine since their cocktails are mean and served to some of the freshest sounds around -- with themed nights, from RnB to jazz and chillout. And all under the guidance of a now-famed management team unafraid to reinvent till it gets those modish bums on comfy seats. White--Zen 25 Hassan Assem St, Zamalek. Tel: 012 230 4404. Opening Hours: 11am--late. Dinner for two, LE150. By Waleed Marzouk
