By Injy El-Kashef gives the bread to its baker When it is 4.45pm on a Ramadan day and you are still at the office, and you know your parents will be heating up uninteresting left- overs from yesterday's mega family iftar, and you are not in the mood to feel sorry for yourself while you boil some pasta that you will eat on your own, and one of your best friends happens to be around, the best option is to coax her into driving around with you looking for a decent meal somewhere. And since I am a determined woman, my plan was to go looking for that pasta parlour in Mohandessin that I had failed to locate a couple of weeks ago. Now, considering the empty streets at that hour, soon enough I could gladly spy with my little eye a big red sign spelling Fashion Pasta. As I parked, however, and spotted the khayamiya cloth spread about here and there covering random parts of the restaurant façade, I immediately understood that there would be no trace of pasta to be had for iftar, and that the menu would have been reduced to a "Ramadan meal", as they are called. Now, why do specialised restaurants like this one feel compelled to give up their identity in favour of what customers could be having at home, every day, just because it is Ramadan? Hellooooo... Ramadan is a holy month... pertaining to a certain religion... embraced by people the world over... and, call me dim-witted if you must, but I personally fail to identify the reason why serving pasta for iftar is an exercise to be avoided in Fashion Pasta's books. Once inside all my suspicions were confirmed. They were out of pasta until the eid... and we were out of there in a flash. If one has no choice but to eat Oriental food, then one might as well cross the deserted street and have it at Al-Tekkia where they surely have more experience with it. Al-Tekkia was absolutely packed. The poor waiters looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown (and the commercials blasting from the TV screen, combined with the children running around, and the customers all urging for a speedier delivery of their meal simultaneously certainly did not help). That said, I must promptly lay the facts on the table: the service was deplorable but the food was faultless. The pickled tomatoes and the Baba Ghannoug were among the best we had ever tried, served with fresh, warm, delicious bread. Now, as it turned out, this was only the tip of the iceberg; the real artistry was revealed in my friend's Chicken Fatta, which came with a brown garlicky sauce covering the rice and chicken strips. While I proceeded with my Chicken Kofta, I had an internal dialogue during which I questioned most of my five senses. What I was eating was good, granted, but it did not smell, taste, or look like chicken by any means. My guess: it was lamb kofta. I did not seek a confirmation, as it would have put a swift end to my meal, lamb and I not being on such great terms. We ignored the Rice with Nuts and Chicken Livers in favour of a Macaroni Bechamel covered in cheese and bathing in a soft, rich béchamel with minced meat the likes of which will be hard to come by again. When in need of Oriental food, Al-Tekkia rules, and for only LE80, including two soft drinks. Al-Tekkia, end of Game'at Al-Dewal Al- Arabiya St, Mohandessin.
