I’ve been on a bit of an Subcontinental food buzz recently; and an invitation to take AmounsBouche back to Essence Barbecue in Mohandessin was one i could not resist. We both love Massala at the Karvin Hotel, but being bound to the island of Zamalek and its immediate vicinity, we were pleased to finally have an alternative to the horrendous Nawab when the curry bug bites.

Nothing has changed from my previous review – the Pakoras are still among the best things I have ever eaten; pungently spiced with an impossibly light and airy texture and the potato samosas are little potato curry flavor grenades. We did not like the meat samosas, which had a strong lamb flavor, but were bland otherwise.

The kitchen clearly enjoys the process of creation, even going so far as to add a little black salt to the lemonade we ordered. It was a nice flourish, i thought, but it should have been announced to prepare us for the added twist. It was sent back in favor of the more boring ‘regular’ lemonade (but they did add a tinsel umbrella…) Probably more successful is their new Lunch menu, offering both vegetarian and carnivorous options for a flat price of EGP50. Included are four courses, and it can be ordered, and indeed is designed for, takeaway.

The service is still as fresh faced as ever, and the head waiter is more comfortable and familiar with all the items on the menu. We didn’t get a chance to meet the Chef this time, but if you take my word for it, she won’t be leaving cairo anytime soon.

Cooking time: 5 minutes

Risotto is commonly seen a starchy replacement for potato puree; Risottos are “sexier” than just regular mashed potatos. To have a risotto as a main course is derided as not being satisfying enough, a claim that I find to be very misinformed. Of my all-time favorites were the mushroom risottos at Eatalian (now defunct) and La Gourmandise (no longer on the menu). Since these are no longer an option, I’ve been searching for a worthy replacement for my mushroom risotto fix.

One example of rice cooked in Alfredo sauce can be had at La Trattoria in Zamalek. What I expected, and what I received, were two very different things. I expected a homogeneous creamy risotto, each rice grain distinct in its texture but not chalky and chunks of hearty flavorsome mushrooms throughout. What I received was the exact opposite, swimming in a Grey pool of heavy cream. Highly un-recommended.

Where good risottos *don't* come from.

Another perpetrator of risotto crimes resides at the Semiramis Intercontinental hotel, at their Italian restaurant, Pane Vino. Their risotto was a dry, cloying heap of overcooked rice, mixed through with raw mushrooms and a heavy handed dose of fresh cilantro. I don’t often send food back, leaving the half eaten portions on the plate speak for themselves, but this time I could not let this aggression stand. The manager was called over, who called over the chef on duty and both listened intently as I schooled them as to how a risotto should be made. Imploringly, they asked me to give their next risotto another try, but the damage was done – I had faith only in their distinct lack of culinary artistry, and that faith is unshakable.

“Physician, feed thyself”

To embrace this motto, I decided it was up to me to make my own mushroom risotto. I knew what my ingredients would be, but felt I needed to study up on the finer techniques of risotto making. I listened to Raymond Blanc, Carlo Gracco and Heston Blumenthal all explain their own recipes and techniques, and in the end, produced a plate of risotto I can be proud of.

Even though I love porcini mushrooms they tend to bully the other mushrooms and flavors and I’ve decided to leave them out of this risotto. But I do love shiitake mushrooms, which play very nicely with button and forest mushrooms; the trick is to know that the woody stalks must be removed or else you’ll be biting into hard bark in the middle of an unctuous and creamy risotto.

At the restaurant, I decided to make an Egyptian risotto, using Egyptian short grain rice and Egyptian mushrooms only and paired this wonderful risotto with a pan-seared fillet of Egyptian beef, seasoned with salt and nutmeg, and flamed in the pan. This little trick gives the beef a roasted aroma similar to a traditional kebabgy’s. When I taught my chefs at the Cairo Jazz Club this technique, they instantly fell in love with it.

You’re welcome.

Shiitake and Forest Mushroom Risotto

Yield 2 portions

Ingredients

• 75g Arborio rice
• 300 ml chicken stock
• 5 Shiitake mushrooms (dried)
• 10g forest mushrooms (dried)
• 10 button mushrooms, stalks trimmed and cut into quarters
• 20g Worcestershire sauce
• 25g spring onions, finely sliced
• 10g scallions (the green part of the spring onions, sliced finely)
• 35g butter
• 35g Parmesan cheese
• 1 clove of garlic, minced
• Salt and pepper to taste

Steps:

1. Bring chicken stock to the boil, and remove from heat
2. Add dried mushrooms to the stock and let them reconstitute for 15-20 minutes
3. In a heavy bottomed sauce-pot over medium-high heat, sautee the mushrooms with salt and pepper and olive oil until dark brown.
4. Add minced garlic, then immediately add rice; stirring constantly for 5 minutes
5. turn up heat to high, and deglaze with Worcestershire sauce, and stir till most liquid has evaporated.
6. add enough stock to barely cover the rice and mushrooms, and turn down the heat to low. Let this simmer for 20 minutes.
7. Turn the heat back up to high, and begin stirring the risotto constantly, adding a little stock at a time. this should not take more than 5 minutes till the rice is properly cooked and the creamy texture of the risotto is achieved.
8. finish by stirring in the Parmesan and butter. season to taste and for an extra flourish, add a few drops of truffle oil right before you serve it.

Cooking time: 45 minutes (including prep)

In true 1980s hotel fashion, the poolside at the Fairmont Heliopolis has both the atmosphere and cuisine of something we’ve seen before in movies from a bygone age. At the time of the review, the Meshmesheya tent was not crowded; it was barely 30% full, but granted it was a Monday evening. Not that it could ever be filled; the tent is enormous, easily capable of seating hundreds of people. Large free standing outdoor air conditioners line the perimeter and alternate with 42 inch LCD screen televisions letting the patrons know what programs their missing, although it’s not like you could enjoy the fantabulous shisha, sit on the blue faux-velvet couches and actually hear the TVs. The sound of the nearby live entertainment, provided by a very 1980’s zaftig female performer is both visually and aurally distracting. But maybe that’s the point.

Right at the door, we were greeted by the picture of exasperation and poster child for unwelcoming service. Dressed in a Moroccan Dishdasha and an Egyptian Scowl, the hostess escorted us to a low table with couches with an excellent view of both the impotent Televisions and the virility enhancing entertainment. A few seconds later, the head waiter arrived to ask if we planned on eating now or later; the answer to which was a resounding and –by necessity – loud “Yes”. 5 minutes later, a basket of some of the best Egyptian baladi bread this side of the year 2000. There it sat, lonely and purposeless for another 10 minutes, whereupon a flurry of waiter activity deposited every single item on the set menu on the table at once. There was no timing of courses, no structure to our dining experience. What this inevitably meant was that our foul and omelet went unappetizingly cold as we plowed through everything else on the table.

The quantity and array of food served is very nice, but one could not escape the feeling that we had stepped into a wedding reception from a movie in 1989, complete with rowdy children dressed in tuxedos. The flavors were nothing spectacular and, in the case of the Sujuq and deserts, far less than spectacular. The only true enjoyment was derived from the shisha, which at 30LE, is still pretty steep.

Meshmesheya also serves Fitar; but the set menus are the same: A meatless Set Menu will cost EGP140 (excl Sales and Luxury taxes and Service Charge) and the same menu with an added plate of Mix Grill will cost 240 LE (excl taxes and Charges).

Cooking Time: 30 minutes.

Peace out.

Be Warned: This is a Cellphone picture

You know the feeling. Great elation, a sense of accomplishment, of a great weight lifted up from off your shoulders. It’s the kind of feeling that demands to be celebrated and commemorated. The occasion, my friends, was my recent divorce from a particularly horrible employer; and I decided to celebrate and commemorate the event the only way I know how: by going out for a meal. Having never been to the Safir Hotel in Dokki before, I strolled around the hotel lobby and chatted with the concierge. I learned that they have an open buffet restaurant, a Lebanese restaurant and an outdoor café. But none of these were as advertised as “Asia Boutique” was; and it there that I decided to spend my patronage.

The dining room is smaller than I expected: the right wall sported a <sigh> teppanyaki grill and the left wall was anchored by a sushi bar. Immediately I worried that this “Asian” restaurant was another excuse for a hotel chain to capitalize on Cairo’s torrid and misplaced love affair with sushi and teppanyaki. As an aside, the good people over at “Benihana” should be looking to open a chain here, because they would do *very* well. Anyway; I found the décor itself to be pleasant. Dimmed lighting, black and red lacquered tables and chairs reinforced the pan-Asian theme and even the chairs were a stylized version of an Oriental pagoda. But it was not pretentious; the table setting was neat and clean, silverware and glasses polished to crystal clarity.

The restaurant was empty save for me and so I expected to be served with alacrity and precision. The sole waiter came to my table, and as he handed me the menu, asked for my beverage selection. I’m always happy when I’m asked what to drink before I order: it’s courteous and proper. And the waiter, Mr. Wagdy, certainly was both, eagerly scribbling down my menu orders and double checking to make sure he got it right.

The menu was easily navigable, offering mainly Thai main courses. Besides the beef teriyaki and the Miso Soup, the teppanyaki and sushi seemed to be the only Japanese offerings; I felt it was a focused menu, showcasing what the kitchen staff can do, as opposed to what the Hotel Managers may want them to do. The prices, surprisingly affordable, were comparable to non-hotel options like Fusion. There is even an option to order from the 3 course set menu, which will set you back EGP120 (excl taxes and charges). In the end, I quickly settled on my selection: Khai Kai soup (a coconut and lemongrass chicken broth), Beef Teriyaki, Chef’s Platter of Sushi and a Fried Banana Dessert. Orders received, Mr. Wagdy deftly retreated to the kitchen to get things started.

Having a nice private moment gave me the opportunity to take in the ambience. It was all very relaxing and soothing, but marred by the lounge Muzak wafting in from the hotel lobby through the restaurant’s double doors. I would have liked those doors to remain shut to protect me from the intrusion of the electronic piano version of Andrea Bocelli’s Con Ti Partiro upon my consciousness.

Mr. Wagdy materialized to bring me my soup, a full 10 minutes before I expected it. It sat, steaming, in an unassuming white bowl, flecks of green on an off-white creamy broth. The odor was unmistakably lemongrass and coriander. The flavor matched the odor, and provided a pleasantly smooth mouth feel to the soup. I had an issue with the tomato skins still lingering at the bottom of the bowl, and felt it was served too hot, meaning it had been reheated by microwave. Uncharacteristically I found myself forgiving the insult; and finished my bowl of soup just in time for my Beef Teriyaki, which arrived as the last spoonful of soup was trickling down my throat. This was Beef Teriyaki the way I liked it and more. The sweet teriyaki smell, punctuated by garlic and ginger, got my mouth watering. The presentation again was understated. Served in a simple white bowl, the dark brown and black contents were highlighted by the julienned red and green peppers streaking through it. I particularly enjoyed the knowledge that I was eating local Egyptian beef.

The service was fast and furious: like a gastronomic traffic jam, the courses were packed bumper to bumper. As soon as the beef teriyaki was finished, I was presented with the Chef’s Platter of Tuna, Salmon and whitefish Nigri sushi; Crab, salmon and Avocado Maki and slices of chilled tuna sashimi. All this was packed onto a small wooden chopping board, unassuming and entirely delightful. Each piece delivered, sweet salmon, stubbornly robust tuna, delicately smoky whitefish counterpointed with the sharpest pickled daikon radish I’ve ever eaten. For EGP65, it was the priciest sushi option on the menu, but probably the dish that best represented the confidence and technical ability of the kitchen.

3 courses in quick succession left me gasping for air, and I was given a brief resting period before my dessert arrived. Sitting on a small square plate was a single banana, deep fried in light tempura batter, and drizzled with coconut and honey. Alongside it was a mound of creamy vanilla ice cream, dotted with whole walnuts and a sliced strawberry. Like the grasshopper gun from Men in Black, this unassuming dish blew me away. Every single flavor came through clearly, mixing and playing off one another. Warm banana, cold vanilla ice cream; soft banana, crunchy walnuts; texturally, it was a delight.

I ordered the check, and was very happy to pay EGP200 (excl tax and tip); I’ve spent more money at Chili’s. The meal, having ended on a very high note, left me with a huge grin on my face. Then I remembered the reason I was celebrating, and laughed out loud in joy. Cause for celebration indeed.

No Dice. Sigh. The standard fare on offer and the teppanyaki bars gave me a sinking feeling I was in for a run of the mill Egyptian interpretation of Japanese Food at premium prices. Reinforcing this dread was the menu; the first page was meant to be a story about the history of shoguns in Japan, but was cut off mid sentence when the space on the page ran out. I asked the maitre D where the rest of the story was and he jokingly remarked that the history of Shoguns was short-lived.

Some ordered the sushi, some ordered the teppanyaki. My girlfriend, who is an avid foodie in her own right, ordered the less obvious choice of chicken and fried rice. I wanted to have as much as I could, so I set myself up for four courses: Miso Soup, followed by Fried Tofu in a benito broth, a sushi and Sashimi platter and a dessert of banana spring rolls with Mango Sorbet. I also ordered an “assortment of Japanese pickles”; my friend’s Japanese mother used to make her own homemade Japanese pickles, and I found myself quite nostalgic for them.

The beverage list was pretty standard, serving mainly Egyptian wines and brews. But Shogun also serves Japanese Asahi Beer, imported all the way from Tokyo, Japan. It is also priced accordingly; all told, a bottle of this brew will set you back about EGP120. I mean, it’s good – but not *that* good. If you really want good imported brew, I’d recommend heading over to Harry’s Pub at the Zamalek Marriott for some German Weissbeer priced at EGP55 (excluding tax and service charges) for half a liter. But man cannot live on beverages alone and we made conversation as we waited for our food to arrive.

I was not surprised that after a long interminable wait, the food was served with no sense of timing. Some of my friends received their main dishes before I even got my Miso Soup, and my pickles sat there in front of me looking embarrassed and apologetic like a secretary who’s boss was busy playing golf instead of being on time for an important meeting. It’s not like the restaurant was full or anything – there were barely 10 other people in the restaurant besides us (also waiting for their food, no doubt). The wait staff, however, were never more than a quick “Excuse me” away; and they apologized profusely when I pointed out that my “assortment” of Japanese pickles was, in fact, the same Japanese pickle repeated over and over again. Three minutes later, I was given a second plate with daikon radish and what I can only assume was pickled cauliflower. Our soft drink cans were emptied into little glass jugs, that we then used to top up our drinking glasses. While this is a cute little touch, I despise it, since having to double pour my soft drink results in a flat, fizzless glass of cola.

The Miso soup was as expected – one of my favorite things to eat. I enjoyed the light tempura battered tofu slices, but my girlfriend disagreed, astutely remarking that the slices were too large to be eaten with a chopstick, and that they lacked any flavor whatsoever, other than fried batter. The benito broth was a study in Umami, and kept me coming back for more, whetting my appetite for the next course of Sushi and Sashimi.

This is where things started descending into disappointment. The sushi and sashimi platter was served on a chipped wooden boat, and even though it looked pretty, it tasted like old fish. I will admit that it was the first time I enjoyed eating octopus, but other than that, I was reminded of why I normally stay away from seafood in Cairo. I couldn’t wait for this course to be over, and abandoned ship with more than half of its contents left uneaten.  My friends’ beef teppanyaki was not much better. The menu pretentiously and proudly claimed the beef was Australian Grain-fed Fillet, but I could see immediately that it was still barely thawed from the freezer, and wouldn’t deliver on flavor. The teppanyaki chef did his best to entertain us with the noisy clanging of his paint scrapers, but he could not detract from the fact that his ingredients had let him down. I had a bite of the medium-rare beef fillet, and it left a burnt butter, almost fishy taste in my mouth, no doubt from the overuse of oyster sauce, which I normally love.

I was most impressed by the presentation of the chicken and fried rice dish. Served in a gray-brown clay pot, it looked like something you would eat at a Japanese home on a school night. But as usual the chicken was woefully overcooked, devoid entirely of any flavor other than that of dry aviary protein. I still don’t understand why most chefs think that cooking with chicken only means the breast – if you’re going to subject the bird to a high heat, then go with the thighs. The higher fat content and darker muscle structure lend themselves better to such cooking methods. Just ask an Indian Chicken Tandoori chef.

Time was dragging on, and we were concerned we’d miss the start of our movie if the desserts didn’t arrive soon. After poking and prodding the waiters, we were served the dessert. On paper, a “Banana Spring Roll” sounds like it could be wonderfully divine. I imagined a light dessert, filled with fluffy banana and bursting with flavor. What we got was its evil, aborted twin brother. Dense, oily spring roll pastry surrounded a banana filling that was unbelievably dry and tasted only of raw cinnamon. Banana is a very strong flavor, so I’m *very* surprised that the kitchen staff managed to finally find a way to remove it. I mean, that man has got to be a fucking genius, turning what I thought would be a moist banana dessert into a dry cinnamon dessert! This offense I cannot abide, as I rely on dessert to put a smile on my face before I see the bill.

Instead I frowned, and that frown turned to a scowl as the bill for all seven of us totaled almost three and a half thousand pounds. The experience and quality of the food was worth barely half that. We paid our bill and walked briskly towards the movie theater in the adjacent mall. Out loud, we talked about walking faster towards the promise of a great movie experience – silently, I know we were walking as fast as we could away from the broken promise of a great dining experience.

There is nothing about shogun that would cause me to recommend it to anyone in search of a good Japanese meal. Yes, the wait staff were attentive and tried their best to be cheerful, but a warm smile at the door can only get you so far – ultimately it comes down to the food to make or break the experience. At shogun, the experience is much like that first page on the menu; very interesting, but woefully incomplete.

The JW steakhouse makes a great first impression. The interior, with its plush leather chairs, wood and fabric paneled walls and dark wood tables, made me feel like we had stumbled upon a den of masculinity and gathering place of the barons of industry. I was disappointed the lighting was a bit too bright and that there wasn’t a heavy cloud of pipe and cigar smoke hanging in the air, because that would have completed the picture. Both me and my brother had the feeling that we was about to partake of a meal that would haunt our dreams.

The menu selections kept up the promise of greatness, dropping names like “Maryland Crab Cakes”, “New York Strip” and “Australian Beef”, and read like a greatest hits listing of prestige ingredients. It took us a while, but we settled on a Seafood Sampler for Two as our appetizer, followed by a new York strip steak for me, and a Roasted chicken breast for my Professorial sibling.

The dining room was empty save for a couple seated a few tables away from us; so you can imagine my astonishment that it took a full hour from the time we walked in to the time we were served our first course. While we waited we were given a basket of microwaved bread that the waiter claimed was freshly baked and piled into a clay flower pot. Thyme and Garlic butter was served alongside, placed in yet smaller clay pots. Just as we were polishing off the last few bits of bread, our appetizer arrived: a sampler of seafood with lobster, jumbo shrimp black caviar and smoked salmon. The menu claimed it was enough for two, but two lobster tails, 4 prawns and 2 slivers of smoked salmon does not an appetizer for two make. This was inhaled in 5 minutes, and once again, we were relegated to waiting patiently for the next course.

To add to the anticipation, the waiter cleared our table, then placed a wooden tray in front of me, complete with silver handles fashioned in the shape of a head of longhorn cattle. Beef was imminent, and my brother began having buyer’s remorse at not ordering a steak like I did. The feeling did not last long, as it turned from remorse about a menu choice, to full blown regret about the choice of restaurant.

My steak was cooked to order; but since this is a US certified New York Strip Steak, the meat was frozen, then thawed, and tasted as much. It sat on my white plate, unadorned by anything meaningful except a few sliced red onions hiding underneath the unapologetic steak. A frozen bit of steak loses so much of its flavor, and I found myself telling my brother a list of places that had better steak that came from local Egyptian cattle. The red onions were softened in the pan, but were so undercooked, they still tasted raw. This was an addition I could not understand – the memory of that flavor is one I will never forget unfortunately.

The pan roasted chicken breast was almost burnt, overcooked, and seemed slathered in burnt butter. One bite and my brother summoned the waiter to return the dish. Apologies ensued and a few minutes later, a virtually identical replacement was brought out to the same reaction. Annoyed, my brother refused the offer of an alternative selection from the menu, put off both by our long wait and the wholly unappetizing meal that was served to him.

By the end of the meal, the once impressive interior turned into a room of mockery, and we were impatient to leave. The service staff tried their best to assuage my brother’s disappointment, but employed a strategy that was one part hospitality and 4 parts stubborn insistence.

The strategy failed, and we left feeling cheated, sad and hungry.

The problem with Okashi is that you don’t really feel like you’re sitting at a hotel restaurant – it occupies a small corner of the spacious lobby. The lobby is magnificent, don’t get me wrong; but it didn’t have that special “dining out” feeling, since I couldn’t help but feel a bit distracted by the people passing by my table on their way to another part of the lobby. Eventually, we were able to relegate the hustle and bustle of a major Cairo hotel lobby to the background, and let the sun warm the conversation.

The Maître came to take our orders after giving us enough time to peruse the menu adequately. He smiled with a nod as we ordered a selection of Miso Soup, Shrimp and vegetable tempura and a selection of sushi, sashimi and maki rolls. The Miso soup was decent, as was the tempura. What was not decent; was the amount of time we had to wait for the starters – a full 30 minutes passed before we got the starters; and a further 30 minutes between starters and the sushi – which was returned almost immediately. The salmon and tuna tasted “off”, and the octopus had the texture of a fat rubber band.  After much anticipation and then being let down so badly, we ordered the check and hoped that the money we were shelling out was sufficient enough to wipe the memory of that experience from our minds.

It hasn’t.

The reviews will come over the next couple of days, but right off the bat, you should know that all 3 were experiences I would not repeat; it seems hotel restaurants follow the time-honored tradition of the Egyptian Tourist trap, promising much more than they can deliver at ridiculous prices.

If you must go to a hotel restaurant, temper your expectations: these restaurants are designed for those who value style over substance. I’d take a business client, or a romantic interest there – especially if the company was paying and my guest seemed like the kind of person who thinks anything with “Le” prefixed before it automatically qualifies as “Gourmet”. Most do not go there for the food; instead they go there for the status conferred to them for having been there.

Hotel restaurants are supposed to be at the pinnacle of the local food industry; yet they fall short so often, relying only on lazy tourists and starry eyed lovers to occupy their seats. And while our country entertains millions of tourists a year, I’m left wondering why there is only one hotel restaurant dedicated to serving Egyptian Food (the fantastic Kebabgy at Sofitel Gezirah).

Anyway, my rant is done, but the search continues.

Cooking Time 5 minutes

I haven’t got a lot of time to regale you with tales of food history or tell you how to make a cinnamon syllabub; I’m in a wham-bam-thank you ma’am kinda mood. When I’m hungry and I need speed, I get some me fast feed. Of course I have favorites; some home deliveries are faster than others, and that typically influences my decision. But it’s not just the speed of the food delivery – cook door could deliver in 5 minutes and I still wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot pole – it’s the items on offer.

Burgers? Burger King, Hardee’s, Burger Kitchen then McDonald’s.

Pizza? Sbarro’s, Papa John’s, Domino’s, Pizza Hut then Little Ceaser’s.

Chicken? KFC, Texas Fried Chicken then Al Tazaj. Not too many chicken fast food options out there; that would explain why KFC has been allowed to thrive.

Chinese? No one. It’s a big market gap that needs to be exploited by someone with more time and money than myself.

As a wee lad growing up in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, I often found myself wishing for the day when I could mix and match, pick and choose my favorite items  and eat them all on the same plate. Sort of like an All-Star Fast Food Team. Thankfully, my Fast Food Fast has been over for almost 6 months. Without further adieu, Here’s my lineup:

Main Items:

1. BK Whopper
2. Hardee’s Mushroom and Swiss
3. KFC Toasted Twister Wrap with Cheese (Original)
4. Sbarro’s New York Thin Sliced Margherita Pizza

Side Items:

1. Texas Chicken’s Biscuits
2. A&W Root Beer
3. McDonald’s Fries
4. Hardee’s Big Cookie

I’m pretty sure there are some items that you wouldn’t agree with; but then again, there are probably items there that you have not tried yet: go try them, then come talk to me. If you’ve got your own suggestions, make yourself heard!

Nuked, 3 minutes on Medium