Heart of darkness

Injy El-Kashef joins the circus
Racing against time to catch the bank I felt like Dracula trying to catch the last minutes of the night before the sunrise. I leapt out of the taxi cab, throwing the driver the money, and dashed madly to the bank entrance, only to see the security guard closing the huge chains that seal off that glittering world of cash. "Nooooo!!! You will not close that door and you will let me in," I yelled as I approached him. "What's the matter with you, lady? Just use the other door, it's open," he replied calmly. I felt a little bit like a fool, or at least a melodrama queen, but such are the results of walking around penniless.
Having managed to shrink my account a little bit more, I had a nice warm feeling in my pockets. The irresistible urge to spend money now that I had some drove me to stop at the nearest food outlet and grab a bite. I found myself in front of something called Cook Master -- I had never heard of it, but it looked clean enough. It was another one of those places that has no idea exactly what it wants to be, deciding, in the face of such a major identity crisis, to go eclectic. Hence the combination of sandwiches, meals, pizzas, seafood, meat, chicken, Oriental, American, Greek, Asian, Mexican and many other elements that I will now forget to mention.
My choice fell on a pizza for myself and a few sandwiches that I intended to inflict on my colleagues at work, refusing to learn my lesson (offering food with a potential to be bad does no good to any relationship). I went upstairs to wait for my order and had the opportunity of watching a whole family devouring their deep-fried chicken bits with greasy fingers. Not the kind of picture I would use as a screen saver on my PC, to say the least.
My Napoli Pizza arrived, looking big, fresh and delicious. Big it was, fresh also, but delicious might be an exaggeration. The mozzarella and tomato paste were delicious, the pepperoni slightly dry, the black olives abundant and the mushrooms nonexistent, while the dough was a little thick. All in all it was a pleasant experience, however -- unlike that to which I subjected my colleagues.
The Mixed Grill Box was apparently nothing to rave about, but perfectly edible and straightforward (unfortunately full of liver pieces, however), accompanied by the blandest possible white rice and some pretty good French fries. The hilariously spelled King Browns [Prawns] Sandwich was full of shredded lettuce, an improvised cocktail sauce and medium-sized deep- fried shrimps. Eating it was rather pleasant, though not without results: heartburn from hell. I was taken back to a dark time: the late stages of my pregnancy, when I felt I could spit fire at the circus. As for the Chicken Kiev, one bite was enough: the bin had the rest. It was simply awful. Not particularly recommended, and not a good remedy either for the spendthrift, given that all this food, and a Coke, cost LE37.
Cook Master, 3 Orabi Street, Ezbekiya, Downtown.
Tel: 575 9701
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