By Injy El-Kashef is grateful for high capacity washing machines I have only one sister in the whole world and she lives in Sharm El-Sheikh, which means I hardly get to see her anymore -- unless she has more laundry than she can or wants to handle, in which case she promptly and confidently decides that she misses Cairo and shows up overnight with a big smile on her face and a bag of dirty clothes several times her own size. Now, this time it is different; this time she is here because it is Ramadan and she really needs to be with the family, and so I resolved to take her out in the evening for a tête à tête over some delicious nibbles. We were all set and rather excited about our little plan, when she received a phone call informing her that all her close friends who are dying to see her would be gathered on a felucca in about an hour. I cannot blame her for dumping me on the spot; I perfectly understand. Yet the truth remains that I was dumped -- and when in "being dumped" mode always switch to plan B with dignity and grace. And so, in a totally failed attempt at indifference, I went straight to the phone and dialed a couple of numbers, mumbling loud enough for her to hear "I have friends who are always dying to see me too, and they would dump anything just to be in my company." I was out of the house in a flash on my way to meet a dear friend at the newly-opened branch of Harris Café, trailing my toddler behind me, occasionally throwing at him a "we don't care, do we?" that he instinctively reacted to with an affirmative nod and a complacent smile. So there we were, opposite the Shams Club, in the lovely new Harris, with, surprisingly enough considering Ramadan, a rather large number of customers -- and they were all eating. What a relief that sight was! Ramadan outings can exclude shishas and huge TV screens, after all. This Harris is a much larger affair: the elongated, perhaps more polished interior than its Korba counterpart is dotted with enough windows to secure the same amount of daytime light as the original. The waiters are just as efficient, the orders as quick and the general experience no less pleasurable. For the little monkey we ordered a Hot Chocolate, which was so good that even he approved of it, using it to wash down a wonderful Crêpe with Nutella Chocolate spread. My Cappuccino with Caramel and Whipped Cream brought back recent memories of a wonderful breakfast I had at the original Harris, where I gulped down no less than five of that creamy, rich, succulent hot drink. Along with that I was struggling with a Smoked Beef and Chedar Cheese Crêpe, which was unfortunately rather dry, making me ultimately opt for the Mozzarella and Tomato Salad -- an item that had received less attention than it deserved thus far. As for my heroic friend who had saved me from the perils of "being dumped" trauma, she was having a ball with her Ice-Cream Soda, trying in vain to tempt the toddler in our midst to share it with her. He held that Ice-Cream Soda, palatable as it was, in such contempt that I began to wonder if he was a normal child. The chocolate overdose was rearing its threatening head, as he hopped down his chair with renewed energy and was establishing the seeds of life-long friendships with the rest of the customers -- it was time to pay the LE52 bill and get out of there ASAP. Harris Café, Abdel-Hamid Badawi St, opposite Al-Salam Hotel, Heliopolis
