Restaurant review: Down the Lebanese lane Café society and crème fraiche. It's time to curl up on a divan, muses Gamal Nkrumah Impeccably groomed ladies and pin-striped suited men. We sit to enjoy the fabled time-honoured mezzes of Lebanon with tinkling strains of Fairuz, Lebanon's venerable diva. The spread is enticing -- muttabal, aubergines pickled with lashings of garlic, parsley and tomatoes; goat cheese labneh, yoghurt strained in a muslin cloth to remove the whey. And among the mezzes the tabouleh, takes pride of place. The delectable Lebanese salad made of parsley, mint, tomato and scallion with burghul (cracked durum wheat) doused with a generous sprinkling of olive oil and eaten with fresh lettuce. And, that is precisely the way Lebanese food is, a motley of fresh, enticing ingredients and a feast for the eye. Some dishes are for the cruel carnivore, others for the refined vegetarian. I am not seduced by the sugary pleasures of Lebanese desserts. The platinum blonde remarks that Lebanese food is overwhelmingly vegetarian, or so it seems at first sight. Dairy products are used abundantly, though, and in the most creative fashion. We greedily conjure up the feast before us. Meats, of all kinds, are consumed sparingly, with the notable exception of kibbeh -- ground raw beef, a delicacy that defines the piquancy of Lebanese cuisine. Often designated the accolade "the epitome of the healthy Mediterranean diet" the Lebanese cuisine is boast and pride of the Levant. Kibbeh, ground meat and parboiled and dried durum wheat was dubbed the Syrian torpedo by the French and British during World War II. When cooked to perfection, it is a delight. In Egypt, there are less pleasing versions that are commonly called kubeibah. These are nothing, of course, to compare with the authentic Lebanese protoplast. Décor at Tabouleh is essentially mock Moorish and Arabesque, Andalusian with a touch of the Mashreq's mashrabeya's wooden paneling. There is a hint of the Arabian One Thousand and One Nights, but not quite. The orange and apricot décor is surreal. My heart skips a beat. Lebanese arak, a superb liqueur-like beverage with an alluring liquorice aftertaste overflows. The Lebanese are an engaging lot. Their sneering upper-class ways are beguiling, and in Tabouleh they flaunt their chic cliches in a cocktail of kitsch fashion. I declined the mujaddara, a Levantine lentil dish served with rice or wheat and onions sautéed in olive oil. It is sometimes derisively nicknamed "Esau's favourite". Mujaddara is a "mess of pottage" that the biblical Esau sold his birthright for: elegiac tangents, copious amounts of garlic and the magical spice sume' (sumac) -- a sharp burgundy-coloured herb with a flavour reminiscent of lime. The shanklish, goat cheese mixed with salad and fatoush, a delicious salad of coarsely chopped greens and tomatoes topped with toasted pita bread crumbs are both mouthwateringly palatable. The platinum blonde opted for the thyme-stuffed manaeish, pizza-like dough, though much lighter and far less filling. Alas, they did not have kibbeh naya (raw ground beef). This dish is only served when the meat is exceptionally fresh and is ever so lightly spiced with wheat germ, finely chopped onions and the whole doused with olive oil. It is a distinctive Lebanese dish that other Arabs, especially Egyptian, shy away from. I, for one, have no qualms about the deliciously fresh kibbeh. Lexically interesting for its use of pine nuts, subtle herbs and dark leafy green plants, Lebanese cuisine is exceedingly appetising. My ice blonde, in typical Lebanese fashion, was sneering enjoyably at everyone around us. "Let's choose the main dish. I could do the quail. Delicious, isn't it?" she beckoned towards one of the black-clad industrious waiters engrossed in uncorking the best of Lebanese and Egyptian wine bottles. Her tongue receptors are just sitting up and begging for gratification. I oblige with a table spoonful of crème fraiche. Tabouleh Garden City, Cairo
