by Saleh Aljafaforawi, culture critic, The Times of Gaza
Al-Ruween Restaurant
Between the remains of the fashion shop called Hitler 2 and Al-Bassam’s tunnel-smuggling service (site of a former plumbing supply business), Gaza City
Chef: Ful Farradoun
Dir-al-Balah, June 11 – The first impression a visitor gets upon walking into Al-Ruween is that he’s not walking “into” anything at all – and that is precisely the point: there barely exists a structure anymore, just the tastefully-appointed remains of a home or office destroyed in an Israeli bombing.
When I say “first,” that also requires explanation: the actual first impression involves the difficulty of securing a reservation to this exclusive venue, in-demand as it is from journalists hoping to snag a heartstring-tugging image to share with the international media. But this writer has a connection or two who bumped him up the waiting list.
If the decor and the setting invoke despair and death, then the menu itself offers a welcome contrast. No lack of dead flesh, but all of it, thankfully, of the animal variety, and all of it, thankfully, genuinely dead. Some recent fogginess of who is or is not dead, and who existed in the first place to become dead, and who said they were dead anyway, and how many times did Israel make them dead… that can put a damper on an establishment’s welcoming vibe. Rest assured, Al-Ruween diners, the flesh is dead in the Hassan Rouhani sense, not in the 30,000 Gazan children sense.
And what dead flesh it is! The makeshift kitchen equipment Chef Farradoun sets up just off camera reproduces the quality and flavor of a gourmet kitchen. I had the lamb and vegetable skewers with rice and asparagus; my partner dined on a zesty tomato soup, followed by a heaping chicken salad. The fresh bread, baked in the cavities of the collapsed building, and drizzled with olive oil, completed the setting.
We had some difficulty with the Yves Saint-Laurent table linens, which the producers of the event did not want to stain, but that did not affect the taste of the food.
For dessert, I chose Turkish coffee and a fluffy caramel cheesecake; my partner declined his dessert, preferring instead to pose as a corpse for BBC and CNN freelancers.
All the elements of the experience were exquisite, though I did have a critique or two for my partner’s playing-dead ability. He should stick to producing, and not acting.
Prices are on the high side, unless, as you know, you know someone who knows Sinwar…
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