Restaurant review: Meats in sheets Colour me baffled and head to the Armada's Sultan, counsels Gamal Nkrumah "Is this smart diplomacy? Sultan aspires to demonstrate an argument, put exquisitely," Queen Tiye surreptitiously smiled to herself. The heart of the matter is that red is red, and green is green and never the twain shall meet. Ottoman red and Egyptian green -- the combination should be able to see that something more wholesome about the good old days is in the making. But, molokheya apart, green is no longer Egypt's emblem. And, it is difficult to avoid the impression that all the innuendo of colour-coded cuisine and décor is in danger of sliding into self-parody. There is no inconsistency. Egyptian cuisine is influenced by Turkish comestibles, but not vice versa. Sultan sits atop the Armada moored Nile cruise ship. "So we are not about to sample genuine Turkish cuisine then? What a shame," Platinum Blonde interjected. It is difficult to stress the need to promote the notion of common good and localism. She cocked her head noncommittally. "I'll do with a Turkish Raki Tekredag for starters," Platinum Blonde shrugged in a state of despondency. Queen Tiye opted for the Kafaklinder Ancyra, a fruity red dry wine. She laughed lightly, her long-lashed large doe-like eyes studying the opposite bank of the Nile with an insatiable curiosity. "There is an appetite for the Ottoman culinary experience in Cairo," she interpolated in her regal air. There was a sense of seductiveness about her. I knew it; the waiters instinctively understood it. Shall we have eggplant with walnuts? "Yes," Queen Tiye proposed. "Paprika-dusted crushed red pepper with walnuts, too". "Is this actually authentic Turkish cuisine? I suspect not," Platinum Blonde interjected. The waiter was a little perplexed, knitting his brows. Platinum Blonde sported an ostentatious smirk. Her question had utterly unnerved him. "I'll try meat in sheets," she taunted him. He looked around the restaurant, the confusion and indecision in his expression painful to see. Queen Tiye looked unperturbed. "Be quick, please. We are in a hurry," Platinum Blonde interrupted tartly. And, again she laughed that throaty, trilling laugh. Careful not to show a silhouette against the early evening sky, Platinum Blonde was in buoyant mood. "Have I guessed correctly?" she quizzed the waiter triumphantly. An hour before sunset all the waiters were in the positions allotted them. Our main courses arrive. Nevertheless, it was a cunning woman's guess. Queen Tiye glances appreciatively around. "It is neither here nor there," she snapped. With a grasp of the minutiae of detail and the bigger picture alike, Queen Tiye controls every aspect of the conversation. The waiter arrives with more food. It was a casserole of calamari and shrimps -- squid and prawns in British English. "But the food isn't piping hot," Platinum Blonde responds. "Stop complaining," Queen Tiye barked at Platinum Blonde. The waiter knitted his brows again. Platinum Blonde glared back at Queen Tiye. The Armada rocked. Queen Tiye is a sparse eater. "Kofta casserole," Platinum Blonde broke in again. "Thyme salad," Queen Tiye interposed. "Hummus with pine nuts". Kofta casserole? Koosh Pasha kebab -- meat with crackers cooked on bars? Villa Dolga red wine? "Bloody Mary -- vodka with tomato juice, Rochester sauce and freshly squeezed lemon juice and lime," I ventured. "Dry Martini gin with green olives," Queen Tia insisted. "White Rashan vodka, Tia Maria and fresh cream," Platinum Blonde pleaded. Sultan Turkish Restaurant, Maadi
