Dreaming of granny

Resturant review
Dreaming of granny
By Injy El-Kashef
The first time we approached Abul-Sid, we were coldly dismissed at the door for not having made any reservations. And a scary door it was: huge and dark, guarded by two thugs with arms folded against their exaggerated pecs. We almost felt like we were knock knock knocking on heaven's door.
Once inside, we forgave the two Mr Ts for their intimidating reception: the place is absolutely packed and, on a good night, there really wouldn't be room to stand. In from the cold of the night, we were instantly struck by the warmth of the atmosphere. Arabic songs old and new float in the air, along with the smell of countless shisha flavours. Painted a beautiful emerald green, the walls are home to frames, musical instruments and eclectic bric-a-brac all sharing the common denominator of being related, one way or another, to our part of the world, from a rather Orientalist perspective.
We unfortunately had to take our seats on a low table (not a tabliya, as may have been interesting and pleasurable, but a Louis Farouq gilt table, the one every Egyptian mother insists on providing for her daughter's drawing room), knowing that it would prove uncomfortable when the food came. Our waiter brought the delicious Gohari Cocktail (carrot and orange juice with honey) in a flash and the mezze followed suit. They were indeed a rare and fulfilling pleasure: kishk, mombar (rice-stuffed sausages) and Alexandria-style chicken livers, toned down with a fresh yoghurt salad with cucumbers. It was a heart-warming prelude to a succulent meal.
As we awaited the main courses, we noticed a really bad habit shared by most of the clientele: they stare and stare, even when you stare back. What is this? To some people the world really is a stage, but I did not buy a ticket and would rather abstain from the ranks of performers and spectators alike, thank you very much. On your way in, eyes will check you out, so just focus on an object at the end of the room and walk in a straight line, adopting an arrogant manner. That should do.
My Sharkassiya (chicken breast with walnut sauce and white rice) landed and I attacked. It was all there, perfect, and my granny instantly came to mind, cigarette hanging from her lips as she cooked the walnut sauce. My husband's Sayadiya (fish with tomatoes, onions and red rice) caused a similar reaction and he too was transported into dreams of his past. Abul-Sid is so generous that we both had to leave some rice on our plates.
Some more staring back, with a vengeance, until dessert. His mahallabiya did not elicit any extraordinary reactions, but my Umm Ali certainly extracted a few grunts from me. Mr Abul-Sid, it was a true pleasure.
Abul-Sid, 157, 26 July St, Zamalek.
Tel: 7359640
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