Restaurant review: Panorama packs no punch A riverside eatery's genial setting hides a ghastly carte du jour, concludes Gamal Nkrumah It's a bright Sunday lunchtime in November and the scene at the Safir Hotel, Zamalek, is rather bucolic for the onset of another Cairo winter -- three months of respite from the sweltering heat of summer, for all intents and purposes the other nine months of the year. There is something decidedly rustic about the nursery with a profusion of exotic plants sandwiched between the towering Safir's swimming pool terrace and the Nile. We navigate our way to the table by the edge of the pool. The place is eerily empty in the evening. The waiters are curiously demonstrative, but most suspiciously have a defensive air. A waiter flourishes a menu. It is the veritable pathos of the absurd. I glare askance at my companions. The opening mouthful of my order, which I shall describe in some detail later, was saltier than brine. Go to Nile Breeze soon after sundown when the city's countless skyscrapers are ablaze with loud and vulgar lights. Two musicians take to the stage -- one with a tabla, the traditional Egyptian tom-tom, and the other hugging the oud -- the pear-shaped Arab stringed instrument from which the European lute is derived. The latter clearly relishes playing in this particular byronic environment. Like the music, the seared salmon with turmeric, spiced potato, horseradish cream and red pepper reduction was a disappointment to say the least. I had ordered steamed spinach, and the waiter took great pains to get my specifications for the way I wanted my favourite leafy vegetable -- ever so slightly wilted. "Of course, sir." The test of all this polemic was in the eating, of course. So I was somewhat startled when the salmon came atop a bed of butter drenched Rösti potato. No sign of the spinach, but two tasteless rubbery arboreal broccoli flower heads instead, and no horseradish. "But, where is the spinach," I protested. "Sorry, sir. There is no spinach today. No horseradish either." Rather than answer, he sidesteps into a discussion about spinach. He laughs a scratchy chuckle that punctuates every sentence. Perhaps the waiter does not know the menu as well as he thinks. My poor American friend's steak was an eyesore that protruded out of his plate like a tortured phallic symbol. I wonder whether he is using us as guinea pigs. I was musing on this as my British pal tucked into what looked like a potpourri of shredded chicken and assorted greens peppered with the occasional nut brown morsels of something horridly nondescript. It seemed incredulously like the concoction of an adolescent chef-savant. It was all gone before I was allowed the merest smear with which to perform a professional assessment. He promptly pronounced it foul. Of course, what arrests him may appall me, and vice versa. I wonder whether he gobbled down the sickening stuff so quickly because he was starving. I don't bother to ask. A blonde in skintight black hipsters passes by. For a minute I conjure up hedonistic images of her splashing noisily into the pool. The seared sea bass with saffron couscous topped with a sun-dried tomato and olive salsa is simply inedible. Three beers arrive and they are quickly guzzled down, to wash down the nauseating aftertaste. A flustered waiter hurriedly clears the plates and presents us with the dessert menu. "No thank you. The bill please," we speak in unison. Ultimately, it may not matter that this restaurant isn't as purposeful as it first purports to be. It is beautifully positioned between the splendid azure swimming pool and the murky waters of the Nile. We watch boatmen pass in their tiny psychedelic wooden vessels, the oars casting olive ripples across the grimy greenish waters of the river. Still, the surroundings are exquisite, the service a tad too attentive, but the food is absolutely atrocious. Whatever its shortcomings, Nile Breeze provides a beguiling distraction for those who happen to pass by Safir, Zamalek. Nile Breeze 21 Mohamed Mazhar Street Zamalek, Cairo Tel: 2737 0055 Dinner for three: LE450
