Injy El-Kashef tries not to be selfish When I had recently been to the Royal Meridien, I had spied with my little eye a relatively large number of restaurants, each dedicated to a different part of the world, which I had vowed to visit as soon as possible. An occasion presented itself, but I could not face Japanese that night, nor was I in the mood for Italian; I had my mind set on spiced and rich, succulent dishes from the sub-continent. With a determined step, I entered Chingary, where I found many friends already indulging in very appetising appetisers. Though I was too busy going through the extensive menu, one of my friends pointed to the decor -- a subject I could not resist. And so I hastily ordered the first thing my eyes fell on and began scrutinising the place with him. We noted that the finishing was quite decent, that the Indo-evocative elements were not overstated, but rather elegantly subtle: an embroidered panel here, a wooden dove there, no cramming of objects but a spreading out of good-quality pieces. Wine, wine everywhere and not a drop to drink? My glass was empty every time I reached for it and so, while another bottle was finding its way to our table I proceeded to try every delicious plate that lay before me. We had wonderful beans, rather hot but absolutely divine, where we dipped our butter-and- cheese mana (Indian bread). We had spinach with butter in tomato sauce cooked in a tajin -- one dip of beans followed by one forkful of spinach, that was the way to do it. My friends had ordered a platter of grilled goodies which included kofta, boneless chicken, prawns, entrecôtes, and other protein chunks I had never seen dressed in such colours before. I tried to reach for the last one of the green chicken bits, but before I had even moved, a friend engaged in conversation casually picked it up and wolfed it down. If looks could kill, I know we would have had one less friend to count in our midst. My consolation came in the form of Butter Chicken -- and that was mine all mine. The copper dish was placed next to me, the lid removed and out came a smell beyond any description. "I need the rice, quick!" I shouted to a friend at the end of the table. Some steamed basmati rice with raisins, nuts and dessicated coconut in my plate, the subtly- tomato-based, very buttery, sauce of the chicken over it, and I attacked, leaving the chicken bits till the end. Oh joy, oh bliss -- undoubtedly one of 2002's best dishes for this reviewer. Once that was hoovered down, another platter arrived for all to share -- breaded and fried vegetables including potatoes, mushrooms, green peppers and onions. Crispy, sweet, light and moist it almost stood for dessert -- a course we chose to skip in order to make it on time for a dear friend's emotional rescue. The bill arrived, hefty and evil, as, once divided by six, we still ended up paying LE150 each. Then again, it is not every day that we can enjoy such succulent Indian food and wash it down with so much wine. No regrets. Le Royal Meridien, Nile Corniche, Garden City Tel 362 1717
