Restaurant review: Eat as an Egyptian Hanan Radwan escapes the overflowing traditional bazaars in Khan Al-Khalili to enjoy the delicious taste of genuine Egyptian food "Hey, where are you going? This is it." I looked to where the shop owner was pointing emphatically. "Food for all." "All Kinds of Food." Those were the only two signs on the street entrance of what he insisted was Al-Ahd Al-Gadid restaurant. I looked back again sheepishly at him, but by now he had lost interest and was tending to a customer. I peered beyond the two signs into a dim entrance four steps beneath street level. Sure enough, the restaurant's name sign was nestled inconspicuously on a wall beam at the centre. Sandwiched between two overflowing bazaars, Al-Ahd Al-Gadid is as elusive to old customers as to newcomers; the restaurant does not even have a telephone. Then again, why should the owners bother to advertise it? Established in the 1950s to celebrate Egypt's "new era" (the restaurant name's translation) after the revolution, this is one of the most popular eateries in Cairo's traditional Khan Al-Khalili area. Until over 10 years ago, Al-Ahd Al-Gadid was a tiny masmat, or restaurant specialising in cattle and sheep body parts such as trotters, intestines and the like. Today, it is a sprawling two-floor maze of dining rooms, offices, and a spotless stainless steel open kitchen that dishes out a wider array of Egyptian comfort foods. Lovers of fried brain, stewed knuckles and sautéed lungs need not despair. These and other loyal staples still keep customers returning. However, safer items like stuffed pigeon, duck, tagins (casseroles) and kofta now jostle for space on the two-page Arabic menu. Seated at one of the marble top tables, and to diffuse the noise coming from our rumbling tummies, my friend and I exchanged bemused comments about the irony behind the restaurant's name. If anything, the décor of this self- proclaimed "new age" eatery bespeaks of the very old era of Fatimid Egypt, with intricate Arabic designs etched on the pastel walls, lattice wooden window frames, and numerous calligraphic paintings sporting quaint proverbs like "rejoice in success after patience". Our orders were taken by two no-nonsense waiters who could have easily come from one of the next-door coffee shops. A short wait later, they plunked down our food on the table, starters and all -- except for the mombar (fried, stuffed veal intestines). Having skipped breakfast, my friend and I charged at the food. We grabbed a loaf each of the complimentary baladi bread and wiped out the humus salad, which albeit needed more chickpeas in the paste. A plate of misshapen but generously stuffed vine leaves was polished off before either of us could say, "rejoice in success after patience!" Noticing looks of surprise and amusement from the waiters and customers, we tried our best to slow down and daintily nibble at the tomato salad -- a garlicky concoction where tomato slices sit atop large cubes of boiled potato, shredded bell peppers and black olives. However, when the ochre, bite-size pieces of mombar came, we again lost all sense of decorum. Forks clashed, jaws worked away feverishly, and grains of rice were fired back and forth between the two of us as we sputtered "delicious" every two minutes. The mombar was so good -- not too crisp nor chewy, stuffed with subtle portions of rice, minced meat, and coriander -- that we ordered another plate to save our friendship. Although kofta items abound on the menu, my friend's psyche could not accept the "We have no kebab" fact until the waiter repeated it to her three times. Her grilled veal chops, big and succulent, were a decent compromise though. As for my shish tawook, the charcoal-grilled chicken thigh cubes glided willingly off the skewer and left a very pleasant aftertaste of nutmeg. Too bloated to order dessert, we left Al-Ahd Al-Gadid and trudged off to face the crowds and traffic of Cairo's "modern era". Al-Ahd Al-Gadid 64 Al-Sikka Al-Gadida Street Al-Hussein, Cairo Lunch for two: LE137
