Tab reviews: Al Casbah – An Algerian Soirée

Two kind boys, DYNASTY INTERMARCHÉ and PINKUS WARRIOR, have a more than delectable sufficiency at the local Algerian.

Algerian Americans Cambridge Mill Road Restaurant

As we staggered towards the bar, we realized that it was a restaurant.

Noting that this was our mark for the evening, we were feeling muscular and proud. Nothing compares to a splendid night out on Mill Road – and as everybody knows, May is THE month within which to do it.

Our friendly side-order for the evening was not of chicken wings or Humous (the political movement or the Middle Eastern snack), instead it was a royster doyster of an American rooster, Karluz Magnussen, Diplomat and Fellow (amateur restaurant reviewer), who helpfully contributes below. With wild eyes and ruby lips, we advanced mightily unto the fray – the pickled hors d’oeurves. The steely tang of the cucumber was a welcome punctuation to a mouth glazed in an afternoon’s worth of medium-priced ale. With this, of course, an eminently drinkable wine (pink) from the region. To be fair, Algeria’s wines are not well known. And, after drinking it, it’s quite clear why.

Algeria is not known for its wine

Algeria is not known for its wine

Nonetheless, we persevered. Starters mostly consisted of bits (some falafel/humous/olives/cod baby (unborn)/pitta/salade event), which scored an easy seven or eight out of eleven, a deal to which Noel Edmunds would probably not say ‘NO DEAL’.

The mains were barely visible, as the room spun and the smoke of a possible, nay probable, grill blossomed around the divans. Chicken on a stick proved to be a mild but entertaining morsel, whilst cooked lamb on a plate may have been less exciting, but tasted both young and fresh. Our American dignitary decided upon something bland and too salty for his own good, but probably both nice and delicious. Unfortunately, the language barrier made it difficult for us to understand his commentary on the matter.

Meat in the mouth

Meat in the mouth

Overall, then, the mains were pretty. Nice. We ate them all up, not least for ballast as befits a swan on water. We say: score. 13 out of 17.1. Yes indeed. It’s worth mentioning that by now we’d attacked another two bottles of Algerian, and none of the party could stand without aid. The waiters were entirely genteel, forgiving and discreet. They are to be congratulated, with great warmth. Ideally, by one of the writers. At home.

Gullets were fairly fatted and inflamed by the time we were proffered sweet treats from East to West to trickle down our expectant beaks. The familiar nausea arrived (on time, thank our Lord) upon taking our leave. Thus we processed to a smoking cavern of the Orient, crudely disguised as an Interweb café, lined with non-functional contraband monitors. It is not the done thing for nice young men to discuss their midnight encounters with carbon plumbing; suffice to say, we shall remember the end of the night, most vividly, for many many many many moons to come.

Lovely pair of goujons

Lovely pair of goujons

Whilst we were preparing this helpful review, Karlus kindly donated both some sausages for our BBQ (barbeque) and subsequent frivolities (unrelated), in addition to the following simply worded, brief and disappointingly mundane summary of his version of the sweating and mellifluous night (see below, we’re off now). We hope this may be of use to our Transatlantic brethren.

 

REVIEW SENT TO US BY AMERICAN MAN, SITTING IN THE CORNER

We went to a restaurant from abroad. The two other men, the noisey British ones, were already making me cross with their walking out of time and silly talk (quite bad and naughty). They would not sit down at the right time. They would not sit down on the right chairs. I was upset before eating started. This was not a good evening so far.

But the food was good, and while these criminals (check with Attorney) were downing pink wine mixed with whiskey that they had brought from home in a plastic bottle, I found time, when they were not shouting, to eat nice food, brought to our table by waiters.

I liked particularly the Whores Derves, and in particular the olives (very continental, but I do not like the green ones for future reference). I was planning to eat a dessert, but I was asked to leave. This seemed unfair. Kindly the other men came out with me even though they seemed quite happy to continue their conversation with the waiters in a private room. I do not think Pinkus Warrior will ever get married (to a woman). Dynasty Intermarché might marry too many and be arrested (check with Attorney). Even though one of them was sick upon my left shoe (brogue from Pri-mart), I enjoyed the evening and the quaint foreign place we went next. I will not repeat that part of the evening.

Some of the art was vagina themed

Some of the art was vagina themed

Altogether, seven point five points out of a possible ten points. Very well done to one and all!!!

Especially the restaurant, for their decorum.