Restaurant review: Grandma wins A palace of desire makes Hanan Radwan yearn for bygone days of Egyptian home-cooked food There are things in life that one must leave to the professionals and not mess around with. One of them is grandmother's molokheya. Now my friends and I understand this fact all too well. Still, we were tempted one evening to explore the culinary offerings of Qasr Al-Shouk (Palace of Desire), an up-market eatery in the heart of Mohandessin that serves traditional Egyptian dishes. Named after one of Nobel Laureate Naguib Mahfouz's trilogy novel, Qasr Al-Shouk has taken up the heady challenge of rivaling home-cooked food. It is obvious that the restaurant's management is aware of this formidable task. The will to please is awkwardly blatant in most facets, from the ubiquitous mashrabeyas (latticed wooden windows) to the golden napkin rings and obsequious mannerisms of the hovering waiters. Truth be told, however, we were not overly put off by the kitsch décor. The mellow hues of beige, copper and grey, coupled with the oud tunes strumming softly in the background, were a welcome respite from the din and glare of Cairo's streets. Yet, we could not help wishing that the mosaic glass on top of the mashrabeyas and the silver designs on our tables were toned down. Inset arabesque shelves crowded with bronze teapots would have been inoffensive were they not grotesquely offset by modern terracotta stone walls and grey ceramic tiles. And will an end ever come to the unwritten rule that a restaurant cannot be dubbed Egyptian without the proverbial fuul/koshari cart? Minutes after we settled in our grey and auburn corduroy chairs, a waiter approached bearing a large arabesque box akin to those used to house the holy Quran, with what looked like the Quran supported upright by the box's open lid. Prayers before mealtime? Apparently, these were our menus. Sporting everything from aged cheese mashed with tomatoes to oxtail tajen, the menu sparked memories of my grandmother's sumptuous Friday feasts when my relatives would gather at her house, yell themselves hoarse during heated discussions, and then trudge home half-asleep and bloated with her food. Slurping a spoonful of my friends' order of molokheya -- which was saturated with coriander, reminding me of a herbal drink -- I remembered my grandmother's delightful recipe with deep pangs of nostalgia. Another friend's order of okra tajen bore small quantities of the vegetable drowning in a tomato sauce that tasted like diluted red henna paste. A third friend whimpered about her watery chicken soup with vermicelli, which the waiter meekly took back and returned with a stronger hint of meaty broth. My other friends were luckier. One of them was happily scooping up creamy chicken livers in lemon-coriander sauce with ear-lobe slices of the restaurant's freshly baked baladi bread. Another ordered an appetiser platter of crunchy falafel, fried eggplant, torshi (assorted pickles) and tehina, all of which were delectable. The cigarette shaped stuffed vine leaves were bland, but became acceptable after a few squeezes of lemon. We also wolfed down a plate of mini-hawawshi -- buttered pita bread slices toasted to a glowing mahogany shade and embracing a stuffing of sweet minced lamb. As for me, I carved my minute barbecued chicken half and yearned for the days when I would grease my fingers with generous chunks of grandmother's plump, fried home-reared birds. Then again, I realised that my friends and I may have judged Qasr Al-Shouk a tad too harshly. After all, not all Egyptians are related to our respective grandmothers. Those unfortunate souls can still enjoy a passable meal at the restaurant -- that is, if they are unable or too busy to locate an Egyptian grandmother to cook dinner for them. Qasr Al-Shouk Michel Bakoum Street, off Shooting Club Street, Mohandessin Tel: 16132 Dinner for five: LE360
