Restaurant review: Bells of eternity Flesh went into the hissing fire, then all I want to tell you a story of paradise and hell, of angels and demons, of flaming swords and broken oaths. It all started a long time ago, long before the Californian went to the Red Sea to stay in a resort created from scratch, a virtual town with promenades, terracotta dwellings, and fast Internet connections -- practically a theme park with fancy dormitories. Now, theme parks and mythology have something in common. They tell us how to live and what to live for. The utopias, sacred cities, and modern gated communities have a firm opinion about who couldn't be trusted (the godless and those who cannot afford the mortgage). Long before any of us was born, long before ANY human was born, there was someone who couldn't be trusted. And she missed her chance to be our mother. In late Judaic tradition, Lillith was Adam's first wife. She was created out of earth, just like Adam, and became strong-headed. She did not like Adam's vision of a submissive wife, and after many quarrels, couldn't take it any more. She uttered the forbidden name of God, and was catapulted out of Eden on a strong wind. Looking for a place to spend her exiled eternity, she chose -- just like the Californian did many years later -- the Red Sea. There, she reportedly took to diving and acquired an amazing skill -- the skill to smother newly-born babies during their sleep. Boys up to the age of one week and girls up to the age of three weeks were fully under her mercy, and every home in the Middle Ages had an amulet to protect babies from the evil Lillith. The story of Lillith, partially expunged from modern theology, carries a curious resemblance to that of a Babylonian wind goddess with a rebellious mood. The one thing Lillith has in common with her more demure successor, Eve, is their breezy demeanour. The name of Eve (Evva, Heba, Hawwa) denotes wind in several ancient languages. And yet, some people blame humanity for being full of hot air. The Five Bells garden is a paradise (a Persian word meaning walled orchard or enclosed hunting zone) in the middle of the urban mayhem that is Zamalek. Tables are set on the grass around a fountain circled by cherubs. These are not the biblical cherubs, the fierce ones with hooves and four faces each (of lion, ox, eagle, and man) who protected the Tree of Life with flaming swords after Adam and Eve snapped edibles from the Tree of Knowledge. These are Cupid-like creatures, made of stone -- convenient for outdoor use. For starters, we get a green salad, which turns out to be a heavenly affair of lettuce, rocket leaves, and other vegetation. The bisara (mashed beans with onion and spices, almost certainly an ancient recipe) wears a crown of browned onions, crisp and delicious like the thorns of sin. The artichokes, soft and lemony, are on the submissive side of seductive, just like our real mother, Eve. A tall hedge of vegetation blocks the aspect of surrounding buildings. The breeze blows from huge box-like fans, as if driven by a wind goddess. And we let it all sink in, sink in boiling oil. The fondue for two involves a generous helping of uncooked diced meat. You spear the meat with metal skewers and dip it in a cauldron of oil sitting on burning fire. It takes perhaps three minutes for each morsel to cook. Before dipping each piece, I ask it to repent. Some do, some don't, but all are delicious. The Californian and I take our own sweet time, take forever, take eternity, take turns, eating and cooking and chatting, like an Adam and Lillith finally reconciled. Five Bells, (02) 735 8635, 9 Ismail Mohamed, Zamalek, open 12.30pm to 1.30am everyday. Verdant outdoors, European cuisine with oriental appetisers. Dinner for two, including four beers, LE230. By Nabil Shawkat
