Restaurant review: The Agadir experience The big misunderstanding finally pays off I forgot who we were trying to placate and why. The ongoing East-West misunderstanding is obviously not all bad. There are a million tourists per square metre in this city, spending most of their vacation trying to get over the 6th of October bridge. Once up there, they stay there, or at least this is what you think when you're driving behind. It isn't the Visit Egypt campaigns that brought about the tourism boom, not even the ubiquitous mention of the 5,000 years of civilisation (the last time we tried that one out, we lost a world-class football event). It is the Butchers who did it. Not the ones in Doqqi who started the home delivery revolution a quarter of a century ago. The Butchers we have to thank (after which I would place them in a see-through man-size kitchen blender running on slow) for our current tourist bonanza are the ones who prefer to see their handiwork televised: the Bin Ladin look-alikes. Sick and tired of getting finger- and toe-printed all over America and Europe, our Arab brethren have done the right pan-Arab thing. They came here, in numbers, to be finally hot and bothered and sleepless and disoriented together. We have so many tourists, we hardly have time to speak to them. So many, we may soon need humanitarian help. I have an idea. Let's send the immigration officers to the top of 6th of October bridge at any given midnight to naturalise all the non-Egyptians they find. These people belong here. If the 6th of October bridge at a simmering August night is better than where they come from, have pity. Let them stay. Give them passports. Perhaps then we can sell them the ugly tall buildings on the Maadi Corniche. Perhaps then we can free the pound, cash it all in, and change our phone numbers. Next, we may all move to the North Coast and stay there, all year round. Why drive back and forth? Let's start a new and fresh country with new and fresh ministers, new look, new vision, great sea view. Until then, one possible getaway from the crowded city centre is on Road 9 in Maadi. Agadir is a nook of a place tucked in the basement of a nondescript building. It has authentic Moroccan setting and cuisine and, on weekdays, few clientele. The chef, Mahmoud, has spent the past decade training under a Moroccan cook and obviously knows what he's doing. The winning entry of the night is the harira (thick and brownish vegetable stew involving chickpeas and lentils). We have that, then go for gluttony. The Brunette and the Intellectual have just been negotiating the purchase of a very expensive and very boring new car that would guarantee they cannot afford to eat out anymore. On the upside, they will be able to drive to where the sun sets, a walking distance from their suburb. Not knowing when the next meal will be, they order with vengeance. Two tagins (chicken and mutton) arrive on the table followed by a lamb couscous. The servings come in elegant China bowls, with pointy lids that look like clown hats. Each serving is enough for two. The couscous is homemade and the cinnamon-scented soups taste like a steamy scene from an uncensored version of Arabian Nights. We wash that down with green mint tea, served by a waiter handling the kettle from a height of 15 inches, onto tiny cups. The dessert comes in an elongated plate, with deep- fried pastries, some puffed with almond paste, some shaped like lattice, some dusted with sugar powder. We take a bite of each, then a bite of each, then a bite of each. Agadir, (02) 378 4212, 45 Road 9, Maadi, a block or two past McDonalds towards the Sakanat metro station, open 12 noon to 11pm, offers genuine Moroccan cooking in a cozy atmosphere. Dinner for three, LE300. By Nabil Shawkat
