So this weekend I legged it to the newly opened and strangely named "Maharaja-1" restaurant in my Cairo neighbourhood. Enough of my own cooking .... I was ready to be spoilt by a royal treat from the Maharaja himself.
But especially I was looking forward to meeting the Indian chef who ran the place - some kindred soul with whom I can exchange recipes and share the feelings that well up when a chap stays far away from home. And maybe he will prepare especially for me that special dish that is not on his menu ......
Enter the place and head straight to the busy looking owner-cum-chef. I introduce myself as another Indian, and wait for the emotional welcome and hugs expected of a person meeting another from his home country.
He looks me and up and down. And then........
He : "So you have come to eat, or........."
I : "err .... yes, to eat"
He (looking pointedly behind me) : "and who else with you?"
I : "err .... no one else - just me - you see my family is ....."
He (obviously uninterested in my family saga) : "so you want a table for ONE?" (emphasis his)
I :"errr ....yes"
He stopped looking into my eyes from that moment. I could empathise with the hapless cockroach that might dare enter his kitchen
He : "well, you can take the table near the entrance - that table actually seats 4, but you can sit there ...."
I (with great relief) : "oh, thank you, thank you, much appreciated ...."
Head straight to the table which seats 4 - but which will now seat only 1. All the other tables were 8 seaters over-flowing with large Egyptian families obviously having a good time enjoying the gastronomical delights.
The table for 4 (but which now seats only 1) is the one next to the exit. I have a good view of the pavement outside from here.
Go through the menu. I realise suddenly that I am not so hungry after all .....
But since I have come here .... "I will have a vegetable pulav and raita" I told him.
He : "That is it?" And he waited, his pen expectantly poised over his large notepad.
Of course, table for 4.
I : "umm - ah - Ok, I will also have a bottle of water - small one".
He : "No small one. We only serve big bottles here"
That is called rubbing it in.
I don't recall the taste of the food - but I can vividly recall every passerby that passed by the restaurant while I ate.
But especially I was looking forward to meeting the Indian chef who ran the place - some kindred soul with whom I can exchange recipes and share the feelings that well up when a chap stays far away from home. And maybe he will prepare especially for me that special dish that is not on his menu ......
Enter the place and head straight to the busy looking owner-cum-chef. I introduce myself as another Indian, and wait for the emotional welcome and hugs expected of a person meeting another from his home country.
He looks me and up and down. And then........
He : "So you have come to eat, or........."
I : "err .... yes, to eat"
He (looking pointedly behind me) : "and who else with you?"
I : "err .... no one else - just me - you see my family is ....."
He (obviously uninterested in my family saga) : "so you want a table for ONE?" (emphasis his)
I :"errr ....yes"
He stopped looking into my eyes from that moment. I could empathise with the hapless cockroach that might dare enter his kitchen
He : "well, you can take the table near the entrance - that table actually seats 4, but you can sit there ...."
I (with great relief) : "oh, thank you, thank you, much appreciated ...."
Head straight to the table which seats 4 - but which will now seat only 1. All the other tables were 8 seaters over-flowing with large Egyptian families obviously having a good time enjoying the gastronomical delights.
The table for 4 (but which now seats only 1) is the one next to the exit. I have a good view of the pavement outside from here.
Go through the menu. I realise suddenly that I am not so hungry after all .....
But since I have come here .... "I will have a vegetable pulav and raita" I told him.
He : "That is it?" And he waited, his pen expectantly poised over his large notepad.
Of course, table for 4.
I : "umm - ah - Ok, I will also have a bottle of water - small one".
He : "No small one. We only serve big bottles here"
That is called rubbing it in.
I don't recall the taste of the food - but I can vividly recall every passerby that passed by the restaurant while I ate.
2 comments:
Superb one!
I guess if the chef-cum-owner was aware that he would be the reason of this blog, perhaps he would have given you a warm welcome! But then he would have not appeared in this space :P
Thanks Kishore - when I was about to leave he gave me a menu card to keep at home, and politely told me that they do home delivery :)
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