I'm sure that you're aware by now, Dear Reader, that we like our food. As long as it's tasty and properly cooked, Freda will try most things; then she tells me if I'll like it! I can still remember the day she made me try this new foreign muck, 'yoghurt', sour milk, more like???? (It was 'Ski' strawberry, actually. Whatever happened to them, |I wonder?)
I knew a relatively famous darts player, who wouldn't eat 'Spam', wouldn't even taste it! "Poor man's meat!" he would say as he turned up his nose in disgust. One of my greatest friends won't touch spready cheese (you know, the stuff which comes in triangles). He reckons that it's all the rubbish which would otherwise be thrown out after they've finished making everything else.
I even have Egyptian friends who turn their noses up at the mention of the likes of hawawshy, simply because it's made from offal, like haggis. It's a touch of the 'poor man's meat' syndrome, I think, rather than just the fact that it's offal. Never mind!
As I reported, Sandra, Mick and Freda and myself had a lovely hawawshy supper the other night. We followed that with a bit of a falafel feast the following night, from these blokes up the street:
Over the years, we've tried quite a number of Luxor's 'restaurants'. The inverted commas are there because I don't consider most of them to actually be more than just cafes, pretentious cafes, but cafes nevertheless! It's no wonder that the food snobs complain so bitterly when they've been to one of them that they've read such glowing reports of, only to find that they are sitting in something which resembles an all-night coffeeshop from the sixties. All some of them need would be a sixpence-a-play juke box belting out Stevie Marriot to make the illusion complete!
"What....ya gonna doooo aboud-it?" Hehe!
Here's some fine 'Eid el Adha' dining, waiting in the souk yesterday:
It's high time for my beauty sleep, so I'll say, "Goodnight."