Eating Up Islamic Cairo

When you order a salad in Egypt, don't expect to be asked what dressing you'd like on it. In fact, I think I would prefer to be asked what goes under the dressing.

A ”salad” over there is mainly tabbouleh, which is bulgur wheat (apparently), parsley, and tomato. Different restaurants had different variations on this, with some having more onions, some included peppercinis (yum!), but my favorite was in this street side place in Cairo that I happened upon on the way to Ibn Tulun, one of the grandest mosques in Islamic Cairo.





Maybe it was because I had spent all day walking and looking for the most majestic mosque and I had been in the heat and sun—oh, and I walked around all day in a long, black sleeved shirt hoping to get a little feeling of what the women felt spending all day and night in their full on sweat garments.

But back to the food: as I passed this place on the way to Ibn Tulun, I noticed sausage links hanging from the frying deal they had in front of the corner eatery. Of course it wasn't going to be ground pig insides stuffed inside its insides, but it looked deceptively so so that I craved it like the heathen that I was.

I went on my way and visited the Gayer-Anderson Museum and the mosque of Ibn Tulun, where I sat and drew for about 2 hours in the spot approximately where that guy is walking in the second batch of photos. In the overhead shot of the central building in the mosque, I was under the fifth arch, sat on rugs, with my feet in canvas protection.

Anyway, on the way back I stopped at this place where I had encountered the faux sausage. I had to try it. But first they gave me the salad which I maintain was the best I have ever had in my whole life. Instead of parsley, I thought, it tasted of cilantro. Soooo good and stuffed into the bread that you open up and turn into a sort of catching glove but for food.

Then I had the sausage, which is apparently boiled with rice inside the ”pig intestines” and possibly some ground meat, and then fried to crispness. It was pretty good but quite greasy. It was served on a plate of greens and tomatoes and kofta balls, which I thought were a little better.

The company that I kept however, was the best. There was a teenage boy there who ran the shop with his older counterpart and he gave me a cigarette without my even asking. He must have known that I would have wanted one after the meal, so I asked him to sit with me.

He didn't speak much English and I only had my Lonely Planet guide book, facial expressions and hand gestures to communicate. I think that we had a great time talking to each other this way. That and the wonderful food makes that place so memorable, I would definitely go back there just to relive that moment.

There was another restaurant there that I really liked, but it was far more upscale, and I will leave that to another post.