Sampling the Suhour - Day 16

Waking up around 4am these days is tough. There is nothing quite as intrusive as being ripped out of your deepest sleep by the deafening sound of your alarm clock. Its reminiscent of those old Tom & Jerry cartoons - the Chuck Jones period. There's that one where Tom got his head stuck in a bell and Jerry hits it gong-like resulting in Tom's body bouncing off. That is exactly what it feels like - add a few raised eyebrows and yawns. Here my suhour is very humble and usually consists of a cheese sandwich or some yogurt with muesli. Anything that will not cause hurtburn or thirst basically. Back in Egypt, suhour is a whole different institution.

In Egypt I would be woken up by smell rather than sound. Somehow my parents would always wake up hours beforehand or simply not sleep till suhour time. Back then it was common for one of the parents to be whipping up quite an amazing suhour that even if you weren’t hungry you would somehow find yourself scoffing down mercilessly. One of my favourites was eggs with pastrami a la Papa. Having at some point in his amazing life been a breakfast chef, one thing he does well is eggs. In all forms. And watching him at it is equally entertaining. Bit like when he dissects his chicken with a fork and knife while the rest of us neanderthalers attack it with our bare hands. Back to the eggs. Here's how he makes them. He takes some ghee, adds the dried pastrami and shallow fries it before adding finely chopped tomatoes, green peppers and a small onion. The man is meticulous in his chopping - no veg can be chopped small enough. He then cracks the eggs with one hand in a separate bowl seasoning it with salt and pepper, chilis and adding some milk. From behind it looks like the only thing moving are his 6 arms. The eggs are poured on top of the pastrami with the theatrical flare of a Disney character skipping through meadows. In goes a lot of grated cheese (preferably lots of different kinds) and on with the lid. Everything is left to turn into a beautiful ginormous omelet. In fact the word omelet does not do justice to this egg island of juicy meat and finely chopped produce spellbindingly held together with assorted melted cheeses and driven to excellence with that little bit of seasoning and spice. No one (bar vegetarians) can resist the temptation of this dish and to top it all off the great man himself, on a good day, may add some chopped coriander and parsley on top for good measure. We never garnish with herbs. Garnish is for wimps. Remember that.Meanwhile, my mother would prepare the fool/fuul [bean stew] in her drill sergeant manner of fact way of cooking. She makes it look so easy, so tight! She chops the onions whilst looking behind her at what’s happening with the bread in the oven and without turning back adds it to the pot on the stove. She repeats this with the tomatoes and only turns back to slice a green chili down the middle and de-seed it in two quick moves. It's like it was never there. With one hand stirring the pot, the other hand deftly mashes the brown beans with some olive oil, chickpeas and tahini. Adding some chopped coriander, cumin and cayenne pepper to the pot she lets the mixture simmer before adding the mashed beans mix. In another pot, which she magically made appear without having moved, she heats up some ghee, drops in little jewels of garlic and watches her tea's milk froth up on the other end of the stove. Once the garlic has turned golden she adds the ghee juice to the bean mash and stirs everything into a flavoursome existence. At this point, of course, the salivating daughters/cousins are all awake and head nose first into the kitchen.

On the table there would be a heart-attack inducing spread consisting of fresh warm bread, yogurt, feta cheese, marinated olives, gebna roomy [old cheese to put the Dutch to shame], molasses mixed with tahini [sesame seed paste], torshy [pickled vegetables], falafel with cumin and sesame seed, fig jam, halawa [helva], feteer [thick doughy pastry], etc :) Glorious food! Basically in Egypt the breakfast is the same as the suhour is the same as dinner is the same as lunch. Should you so wish. Of course this food leaves your stomach heavy, in need of water and on occasion may most certainly cause heartburn, but it’s all worth it! Imagine grabbing that warm piece of flat bread in your palm, slicing it open and spreading some olive oil laced feta cheese on it, then layering it with falafel before scooping some fool on top of it and adding torshy for good vegetarian measure. Then squeezing that bread shut and watching the melting feta cheese ooze out the sides onto your plate where a slice of egg paradise is waiting, and finally opening your mouth to un-human width to fit the first bite of that mouthwatering slab of pure goodness. And as soon as you close your mouth to start chewing and creating that whirlpool of taste for your buds to experiment with you feel an overwhelming sense of relief and an "ooh aah" hits you before you could brace yourself for the sensation. Not something you get from a cheese sandwich.

All across Egypt the suhour is an experience not for the faint-hearted - not only in terms of food but also levels of ambiance. Whether bargain or upscale there is something for everyone and for everyone there is always a surprise. Upscale suhour can be enjoyed in any large hotel where in the gardens they usually set up a Ramadan Tent. Large folklore stenciled tents garnished with fairy lights and fawanees everywhere that basically operate as late night restaurants with entertainment. Entertainment usually entails and overweight balding middle aged man with multiple rings on his pinky, a lucrative crooked smile and the occasional sauce stain down his shirt blaring out the most random songs in a husky voice perfected by years of smoking Egyptian tobacco (ground dirt). The songs really are about nothing and nothing is what they are about formulated in the gear grinding style of the latter sentence. "I am a fruitman and I like mangoes" being a top hit a couple of years ago. Dripping with literary finesse, no? Like the blood from our ears because the distorted speakers are always too loud. There is a reason all Arabs speak loudly. On occasion you are seated on uncomfortable garden chairs around makeshift tables covered with fine linen and pay through your nose for some fool and ta3meya served in plates that oddly enough look a lot like the ones from El Tawheed wel Noor [local Egyptian department store like Primark or Wal-Mart].

Somewhere further down the ladder you will find families having roasted chicken and quail at the likes of Chicken Tikka restaurants departing with garlic breath to make the next 3 days unbearable for their neighbours. Few blocks down others will be gnawing at a kilo of kebab and kofta at the infamous Abdou Kofta restaurant. The latter being one of my favourites. Nothing beats a decent kebab and kofta in a hot corn flat bread with some baba ghanoub [aubergine dip] and houmous. It can make a grown man cry.

All the way at the bottom we find the Egyptian staple diet to be found all across and beyond ranks of Egyptian society. The one and only koshari. This is en epic dish dieticians have no words for. It is a mixture of rice, macaroni, vermicilli, lentils, chickpeas topped off with a sauce of garlic, vinegar and spicy tomato salsa. If you are feeling particularly low on anything you can add fried onions on top. This is another one of Egypt's great vegetarian dishes. It is astounding and my mother makes it like no other and unfortunately hardly ever makes it. If you aren't as lucky as to have my mother cook it for you, then you should go to whichever restaurant (Koshari shop really) is recommended at that time. The picture here shows how it should be served.. including on the stainless steel dish too. For that added stench of authenticity. Honestly, for something so simple it really is a multifaceted dish worth more than anything served at a Michelin star restaurant. Not to mention its value as the glue that holds all levels of Egyptian society together. Everybody loves koshari - whether president M to the B-Rock or the street sweeper still waiting to get paid.

These are just some of the things that may occupy my mind whilst I am chewing down on my muesli with yogurt and under-ripened banana at 4.15am.

Yeah - I miss gluttonous "home."