Deets

A fictional travelogue; four minutes to read.

Dear Ben and Brittany,

I am enjoying my time in Egypt, but I am also missing you very much. At mealtimes, I am especially lonely for you because you would love, love, love pigging out on the amazing Egyptian cooking.

Well, maybe pigging out is not quite the right word. Egypt is an Islamic country with halal dietary rules, so that means piggy products—bacon, ham, sausages, pork chops—are taboo.

For breakfast yesterday, I tried beef bacon. Looks like bacon, tastes like fried beef. Later in the day, I asked my tour guide Baahir if Kevin Bacon movies are unpopular. The look on his face made it clear that my smartass humor flopped.

At the Luxor airport snack bar, I bought a bag of…wait for it…chicken-flavored potato chips. I had to travel 7500 miles to discover chicken potato chips which, maybe you knew this, are also for sale in our country. Travel is educational, I always say.

I’ve gone an entire two weeks without eating a hamburger. I haven’t even seen one. Instead, my palette has been plated with lamb stews, thick lentil soup, juicy steaks, seabass.

At the Cairo Ritz-Carlton, the Culina restaurant luncheon buffet is an extravaganza of hot and cold dishes, sesame-seeded breads, salads, skewered kabob meats, roasted chickens, carved turkey, fish from the Mediterranean, stuffed grape leaves, fava beans, marinated olives and filo-wrapped desserts. Piping hot Egyptian flat bread baked in an open-fire oven tantalizes me with a crisp, clean, fresh-laundry aroma.

I’m crazy for all the Middle Eastern dips and spreads—hummus, tahini, baba ghannouj, madammes, tzatziki, muhammara. A word of fatherly advice: In this world, there are hummus haters. Avoid them.

The Culina also offers a breakfast buffet. Moroccan beef, French crepes, fresh fruits, twenty or so varieties of cheese, simmering chicken livers in a stew, stuffed eggplant, pure white labneh, brown sesame rolls drizzled with honey, multi-colored Egyptian donuts, pastries, pies, tarts. The sound of three-egg omelets sizzling on the grill is familiar—a good memory from our family cookouts.

Tucked between the sliced oranges and the pomegranate seeds, a bowl of unpeeled, smooth, shiny black, olive-like victuals the size of my entire thumb mystify me. Pointing at them, I raise my eyebrows as if to ask the server behind the counter, “what are they?”

“Deets, deets,” the aproned man says, first softly, then at ever louder decibel levels. Finally I understand him enough to ask, “Dates?” He grins, elbowing a co-worker to pass along the English pronunciation lesson, repeating, “Dates.”

When it comes to dates, Egypt is the most prolific country in the world. With sinewy, delicate grace, date palm trees dot the Egyptian landscape. From Cairo to the lower Nile, they are everywhere.

Egyptians have been growing dates since 3000 B.C., making them the oldest cultivated fruit on Earth. Check out the dried Mejool dates at our local grocery. They even look old and wrinkly.

There are so many scrumptious dishes here that it’s nearly impossible for me to keep from overeating, so I’m not. Don’t tell mom (wink, wink).

I will write more later, but now I have some ‘deets’ to eat.

Love, Dad

Click here for more short stories set in Egypt.