Restaurant review: The power of elasticity Sometimes, it pays to heed motherly advice, as Hanan Radwan discovers Apparently, there is little difference between a noodle and a yo-yo. Discovering this amazing culinary phenomenon, however, does not come without a price. It all started on a cheerful sunny Friday when I dragged my sceptical mother to Orchid. Her hesitance was not due to any distaste for Thai food. However, I could read in her facial expression a sense of foreboding. "Remember the time when you insisted we go to that run-down masmat [a restaurant that serves offal] in old Cairo? I have never been able to look at mombar [stuffed intestine] since. I hope this is not a repeat," she warned as we trudged up the three flights of stairs to the deck of the Nile view boat. I dismissed her premonitions as proverbial motherly complaints. After all, this is Thai food. What could go wrong? Arriving at lunchtime on a weekend, we expected the restaurant to be packed. To our dismay, the only sign of human life was a bored conversation between the cashier and the lone waiter, both of whom sprang to their feet as soon as we arrived. Ignoring my mother's insinuations to turn back, I chose a Nile view table, settled into my chair and perused the menu with an air of optimistic defiance. To placate my mother, I ordered what I deemed were safe appetisers. My choices, however, turned out to be too safe, bordering on bland. Although the menu promised "sliced grilled chicken marinated with curry and coconut milk and served with peanut butter sauce and Thai cucumber salad," our five satay skewers held lumps of meat that were moist but otherwise insipid. The cucumber salad was nowhere to be seen and the sauce was a sweet condiment that bore no hint of peanut butter. Eyeing my inwardly fuming parent, I beckoned to the waiter to hurry with our next appetiser, which my mother has tried elsewhere and added to her list of acceptable dishes: stir-fried vegetables with soy and oyster sauce. Presently, the waiter brought forth a beautifully designed ceramic bowl that would have been an exhibition piece were it not for the contents: a pile of wilted, almost raw broccoli florets, carrots and courgettes sloshed with a tasteless runny sauce. As we dismally crunched and chomped the bitter vegetables, I surveyed my surroundings in search of a lively comment or two about the décor. Orchid is cheery and spacious, sharing room with a Japanese restaurant and another that used to serve seafood but that has now closed. There is an open seating area and another fenced by floor-to-ceiling glass panes. Almost all the walls and pillars are covered with mirrors, leaving hardly any room for a painting. "Nice Nile view," I mumbled after a long silence to my mother who grimaced. Moments later, I was relieved when her order of shrimp Pad Thai arrived. Quickly, however, my relief changed to bemusement. As she lifted some of her noodle strips from the serving platter to her plate, I watched them bounce up and down like weighted rubber bands. Their taste, as she pronounced and I concurred, was no different either. Concluding that our relationship was more important than lunch, I shoved her platter aside and gave her my soggy but edible chicken fried rice. Meanwhile, I drowned my culinary sorrows in a pool of Thai red curry sauce and coconut milk, fishing for chicken cubes and Thai basil. My order was passable, but without rice to soak up the aromatic flavours, I could not proceed far with the dish and gave up. When I ventured to utter the word "dessert", my mother gave me a menacing "are you kidding?" look and I opted for the check instead. Our relationship is better now but quickly sours when I mention the words "dining out". Orchid 23 Corniche Al-Giza, Trianon Nile Boat Tel: 02 3570 5040 Lunch for two: LE235
