Koshary

First published February 2, 2009

When we first arrived in Cairo and began to unpack, Aria found a little book that a friend had given her entitled, "Cairo in Your Pocket." This little book contained all kinds of interesting things that newcomers would want to know--which hotels to stay at, things to do, where to eat and even who had the best bellydancers (We inadvertently found out about that, didn't we?). I have perused the pages several times since then. Yesterday, I looked through it again and found an ad for Koshary. Koshary (as I understand it) is a popular dish that originates from Egypt.

The Coptics needed something that would still be a healthy combination of foods that didn't include meat during Lent--thus, Koshary was created. One restaurant in particular advertised heavily that their koshary was the best in Cairo. We thought it might be a fun outing to find this place and try it even though we were probably poor judges because we had never had bad koshary or any koshary at all prior to this, but nonetheless...

Of course, John poured over the maps--got a plan and told the PSK (Pam's School of Knowledge) students (Emileigh and Aria) that it was time for lunch and World Geography. We were going to take a taxi to a Metro station and then ride the Metro the rest of the way to the restaurant. This had worked before. We hopped in a taxi (a new one with the plastic still on the seats) and began darting through traffic. We drove for quite a while when I realized that we were not anywhere close to the Metro station we had used before. In fact, he drove and drove and drove. We crossed a bridge over a body of water and John whispered to me, "We might as well have him take us to the restaurant. We're almost there anyway."

Thankfully, we still had our pocket guide and we showed him the picture of the ad. He nodded, rolled his eyes and said, "You want go there now?" John said, "Aiwa" (yes). He drove a bit longer and dropped us off at a corner of a very busy side street. 

It was somewhere between Electric Avenue and Stationery Lane. We looked at the sign and it read, "Abou Tarek: Kashary" Another sign said, "This is the only branch." I'm not sure why it said that, but maybe it reflected a failed expansion or competition around the city.

We walked in and of course turned heads as we were the only non-everythings in the restaurant. I looked at the cashier and asked if we should be seated first and he motioned for us to go upstairs. We did. We found a table for four in a corner of the almost full room next to two women. One of them smiled at me as we sat down. I can't wait until I can actually say something more than, "Hello" and recite my Arabic numbers 1-10.

A waiter appeared and asked us what we wanted. John said, "Koshary." He asked if we wanted 4 of them. John nodded. Then he asked us what we wanted to drink. We told him.

He disappeared for a while. He returned a few minutes later and began talking to John. John told him, "I don't understand." He repeated it. John said, "I'm sorry. I still don't understand." This continued back and forth like a bad ping pong game until the waiter gave up and went back downstairs.

He came up the stairs with a tray of drinks. He handed us four bottles of water. I had asked for a Diet Pepsi or Coca Light, but I got water. I've learned it's better just to take whatever they bring you. We sipped on our water and took in the sights. Arab men were all talking with one another. People in the street below were purchasing, selling and carrying their goods.

Our thoughts were interrupted when our waiter set four steel bowls on our table. Each bowl came with its own small pitcher of sauce. He pointed at a tall pitcher on our table and said, "Spicy." We said a prayer of thanks and began to dive in. This was carb heaven in a bowl...rice, spaghetti, chickpeas, lentils, fried onions and some unidentifiable spices. The little pitcher of sauce tasted like the kind you would put on spaghetti. John got adventurous and tried the "spicy" pitcher. He breathed fire for 10 minutes and thoroughly fried his tastebuds. I decided that I would pass this time.

It was quite delicious and very filling. As we were finishing up, I noticed a sign in a corner written in English. It read, "Please pay first." Ooooooooh, so that's what the waiter had been trying to tell us. Oh, well. Next time. We put the extra in a to-go box, paid our bill and left.

Another delicious meal. Another bit of Arab culture tucked away. Little by little we learn and begin to understand our new friends. Thanks for reading. Thanks for giving. Thanks for praying. We feel so privileged.