Restaurant review The see-food diet A devout follower, Yasmine El-Rashidi grabs any chance she can Most people joke about being on the see-food diet, which means that everything they see, they eat. When I talk about that eating regimen, I joke not. Except, of course, there is a little catch. I drop the 'e' for an 'a', and indulge in copious amounts of seafood. Most of the time I resort to the efficient and economical means of reaching my food group of choice: cans of tuna. The eid, however, is one of those times during which I allow myself to slow down my pace, and dine in accordance. I dragged another tuna-hogging character -- who happens to be my closest friend -- and we made our way to the little hideaway off Ahmed Orabi Street in Mohandiseen. Given that it was Ramadan, we had already done our homework and ordered early: At 3pm to be precise. "Come 10 minutes before iftar," the Samakmak phone dude told me. "It will take five minutes to cook the fish." I questioned the five minutes business, sceptical of course, given the inability of Egyptians -- myself included -- to manage time. But he insisted, and so 15 minutes before the iftar call, my friend and I arrived. Ravenous, to say the least. We were seated, apricot juice was plunked beside us, and within a few minutes the 10-odd mezze dishes were placed in a rectangle before us. Not long after, the call to iftar echoed through the restaurant on a crackling radio. I began to complain almost instantaneously. "The light," I moaned to my friend. "Why did they do that?" The dimly lit room of very basic, undecorated tables and chairs had suddenly become bright. "And where's the bread?" I continued? "And the water?" she chimed in. We asked about three times, and finally the water arrived, followed by the bread. We indulged. Crispy white shami bread dipped in a variety of little nibbles: hommos; tehina; a scrumptious concoction of onions and roasted tomato and peppers; seasoned chickpeas; extra salty, extra yucky, white cheese with tomatoes. We ate and ate, and about 15 minutes later realised that we were getting full, and the fish had not yet arrived. The shrimps I had ordered, I had already been informed, were somehow no longer available. I didn't bother to ask what had transpired between three and five pm. Our inquiry, and my little spiel that just because someone is foreign-looking, or sounding, it does not mean they are not fasting. I returned to the table, shadowed by a waiter. "Will you please come and choose your fish," he said, with a smirk. My eyes widened -- to an obviously extreme extent. From behind the cash register, the waiter was quickly summoned away. I had a little fit, as did my friend, and about eight minutes later, four Denise fishes arrived; grilled with lemon, garlic, a dash of oil, and a bit more salt than we had requested. We had finished all the mezze, consumed almost a basket of bread between us, a bowl of mixed salad, and downed quite a lot of water by this point. We managed, however, to make room for the fish. Despite the slightly suppressed appetites, we savoured, literally, the flesh. Living up to its reputation, the Samakmak fish was just the right moisture, perfectly spiced, not too oily yet nowhere near dry. Had it come in time to be our main course, it would have made the perfect meal. We were too full to finish it, and no longer in the mood to experiment with desert. Instead, we fished out a mini packet of Hershey's kisses. We asked for the bill (LE115), and fled. Samakmak, 92 Ahmed Orabi Street, Mohandiseen. Tel: 3478232/ 3027308.
