Injy El-Kashef discovers her roots Since Abul-Sid opened in Zamalek a few years ago the place has invariably been crowded, an instant success from day one. To diners of a certain socio-economic status, it had always been terribly easy to find Italian, Japanese, French and almost any other cuisine in chic, expensive restaurants where everyone looks sleek and polished. But to eat Sharkassiya (an originally Circassian dish, based on walnuts and chicken livers, that has seeped into local culture) anywhere else but at one's grandmother was unheard of. And that is exactly why Abul-Sid made it so big: it serves traditional Egyptian food in a 5-star context. The original Zamalek Abul-Sid, though, suffered a chronic problem of being constantly over-crowded, presumably that's why a new branch has opened in Mohandessin, replacing the less popular Absolute. A newly-arrived friend from Aberdeen and a day of food deprivation had both led me to opt for the new Abul-Sid for dinner -- we had a lot to say to each other and some good old Egyptian food was the perfect accompaniment to our confessions and gossip. Absolute, needless to mention, has been completely renovated in order to look almost exactly like the original Abul-Sid. True, the walls are not painted that wonderful emerald green like in Zamalek but are tinted a mustardy yellow; nor are the walls crammed with eclectic "Egyptian" items but are home to a huge number of Chant Avedissian's portraits of Egyptian figures, among other things; yet the general feel is unmistakably Abul-Sid. I wanted to settle the drinks issue before scrutinising the replicated Zamalek menu and so I asked for the price of a red Omar Khayyam bottle. The waiter was almost too embarrassed to tell me, as I could tell, and so he should have been. A bottle of that most basic and barely passable local wine for LE90? Triple its original price? I was in shock. My instant reaction was to say something disgustingly sarcastic to the waiter and keep on saying more until he begged for mercy -- then I remembered the poor man had nothing to do with it and I gathered every last iota of decency and fair judgement to shut myself up; but I had to laugh, and that's what I did. My friend, coming back from the toilet, heard my laughter ringing in the air and asked to share the joke. "Omar Khayyam for LE90!" I gasped and cracked up all over again. I didn't want the waiter to cry though, so I calmed down and tried to look terribly serious, chose my meal and ordered a Stella like a good girl. While I ignored my beer and sipped my friend's delicious sugarcane juice the keshk and chicken livers arrived. Oh bliss! We really are the navel of the world in Egypt, coming up with such delicate flavours. The keshk was lukewarm and dotted with grilled shreds of onions, as it should be, and was perfect with the chicken livers -- both flavours complementing each other in texture, consistency and aroma. But nothing compares to my mulukhiya which came on a tray with white rice and kofta Dawoud Pasha. The mulukhiya was thin (the ultimate test for good mulukhiya as far as this reviewer is concerned) and did not suffer that gooey, stretchy consistency it sometimes has when it is badly prepared. Although I had to add the salt, it was better than most I have ever tasted. The kofta was similarly wonderful. It wallowed in its sharp red sauce and made my friend's wonderful Risotto Tajin seem at best edible. We simply had to smear some fresh cream and honey on a fetira for dessert to seal off this incredible LE170 meal. Abul-Sid did it again; I only pray for more of the same.
