Restaurant review: Quixotic choices Gamal Nkrumah stumbles upon a watering hole steeped in legend that offers a culinary world largely closed to teetotalers Now that the last grapes have been gathered off the vines in the Gianaclis vineyards along the Cairo-Alexandria Road, it is time to head for a cosy hole-in-the-wall eatery in the heart of the Cairene island-suburb of Zamalek. The plump burgundy grapes are currently fermenting into what looks like an extremely promising 2009 vintage, the busiest time of the year for the desert winemakers of Egypt. And, a particularly quixotic watering hole to frequent around this time of the year is Don Quichotte -- the key attraction happens to be its well-stocked bar. We tiptoe into the hushed, dimly-lit domain of the once exclusive and arcane world of expatriate and elite Zamalek gastronomy -- one is a jack-the-lad, the other his more impressionable sweetheart and I. Outside it is overcast. Inside it is warm and welcoming. My friend burps, I squeal with laughter, his girlfriend giggles. I was too busy in stitches to watch the reaction of the waiters at first hand, but I suspect I glimpsed them smiling. I think my friend's drunken reverie was very well received. The fact that our first courses arrived in less time than it had taken to find a parking space in the crowded streets of Zamalek is in itself hugely encouraging. I was dreaming of Dulcinea del Toboso, the Spanish aristocrat who was in reality the farmgirl Aldonza Lorenzo, the true love of the Man of La Mancha. A lovely historical footnote in the Spanish literary canon is the fact that Miguel de Cervantes based his masterpiece on a manuscript by the Moorish scholar Cide Hamate Ben-Engeli. I may or may not have been right 10 years ago, but these days Don Quichotte is looking grimmer than ever. The deep red of the carpets has taken on a depressing russet hue. The Nubian waiters are draped in the most disheartening black. My heart sank as I entered this eatery. The situation is not yet disastrous, but there is something about the restaurant that forged a sense of pugilistic conservatism. So shall we get a bottle of plonk? Matching food and wine is not always easy in Egypt. What wine, say, ideally suits molukhiya (Jews' mallow)? I plucked up the courage to suggest fried brie cheese with fruits -- risqué, as it turned out. We plugged away at the menu. What attracted my American buddy's attention in the extensive menu were the Cairo-Bombay curried shrimps. His sweetheart opted for the fish kebabs with green rice even though she shoved the rice aside plunking it on her beau's plate piled high with an unsightly assortment of leftovers from my plate and hers. I thought a really meaty piece of tuna would ruin the repast. The crab gratin was also tempting, but I ended up with the sole Florentine with spinach. Since cuixot, from which Quichotte is derived, is Cataln for thighs -- horse's rump to be precise -- my friend toyed with the idea of sirloin steak. My American chum was keen on tongue in butter and mushroom sauce for starters. I insisted on smoked eel and fresh crab meat in the shell. Fishy stuff, I reckon. So what about the wine? Gianaclis sprang to mind. The Chateau Grand Marquis with its nose for stewed plums and figs was tempting. And so was a Cabernet-Sauvignon-like Omar Khayyam, an all-time favourite of mine, medium blood red and exotic. It has a nose of dates, desert flowers and perfumed prunes. There is no trace of the acerbic acetone, and the hint of antiseptic only accentuates its association with the banquet of seafood we had ordered. My American amigo, fancying himself a Ptolemy perhaps, declared firmly his preference for Cru des Ptolemees. So more alcoholic beverages would have been inappropriate. "Beer anyone?" He was obviously in a mood to splurge. Grapevines and making of wine in Egypt goes back to antiquity, but Egyptian wines -- and that is the subject of another story -- have improved considerably in recent years. 9A Ahmed Hishmat Street Zamalek, Cairo Tel: 2735 5496 dinner for three: LE450
