Feeling sheepish

Resturant review
Feeling sheepish
Injy El-Kashef vants to be alone
Eid time is always a hard time for me. As a non- sheep eater (for purely gastronomic reasons, however, lest any fanatic vegetarians mistakenly find an ally in me) and yet one perversely inclined to seize the opportunity of seeing family members, I am always faced with a trial of endurance. No one ever wants to believe my serious dislike of lamb, even when I categorically refuse to even smell it, let alone touch it. They always attribute my behaviour to yet another failed attempt at dieting, or to putting on airs, swear as I might that if a large and succulent dish of pasta were to land in front of me I would hoover it up unhesitatingly, and even when I proceed to take a second helping of fatta just to prove my point. Every year the same tedious scenario, the same agony, the same slow death by lamb.
This year I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to sulk somewhere after lunch. They asked me, as I was about to make an angry exit: "But where are you going so soon after lunch, don't you want some tea?" To which I retorted: "I vant to be alone," and banged the door dramatically.
I was somewhat satisfied. I walked aimlessly down the street. I just needed to feel a little sorry for myself and misunderstood. I needed to wallow in my certainly unjustified misery. Then I found a tiny spot called Coffee Break. Feeling cast out of sheep-eating society, all I actually needed was a break to fulfil my desire for a good sulk. So I strolled in and found everything rather dark, although unfortunately not gloomy enough. The paneled walls and parquet floors, the wooden tables and chairs all created a rather rustic atmosphere not devoid of a certain pastoral joviality. I was in no mood to welcome it.
I looked around with one raised eye-brow, mumbling to myself: "What, are we going to play little house on the prairie now?" The menu wasn't bad: salads, many sandwiches, pastries, desserts, little treats, and a huge hot beverage. I still forced myself to be in a bad mood. What would I look like if I just changed mental states in the space of a few brief minutes? Even loonier than I am, for sure. And so when the waiter came (two seconds after my bottom had graced the chair, but still too late in my opinion) I asked for a Mocha with Whipped Cream and a Brownie with Chocolate Sauce and Vanilla Ice-Cream. Unfortunately, they had exactly what I asked for, and it arrived right away, looking rather delicious. Hmph. Really not my day. The world was suddenly conspiring to make me happy, and I wasn't having any of it.
I stirred my mocha with the long spoon, and tasted it, hoping that it would cause me to spit it out in disgust. More and more frustrated, I had to drink it all, enjoy it, and, worse: admit that I did. The whipped cream was fantastic, and the cocoa could have been Hershey's as far as taste is concerned. I hoped and prayed the brownie would make up for it. With a sneer, I took a bite that would have been appropriate had a live worm been heading toward my mouth... Why, oh why? The perfect brownie, and I had to find it right here, on just the day when all bad things were welcome to my heart. The world is a cruel place, I thought as I paid my LE14.
Coffee Break, 47A Abdel-Hamid Badawi Street, opposite Al-Shams Club, Heliopolis.
Tel: 638 8216
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