Arabic Café, Nerve Centre, Magazine Street, Derry
EVERY Sunday, I have a quick look at what we have in the kitchen cupboards and freezer, and then plan the meals for the coming week. Nothing fancy or too detailed, just a list of what we’re going to have for dinner each day.
From there, I make the list for Monday’s weekly shop. It’s no big deal; I’m sure many do something similar. It means you don’t have to think what you’re going to have each day, or waste money at the shops. And it helps you ensure your family is eating healthily, as well as getting something a bit naughty and nice every now and then.
I do all the cooking. It’s a pain in the neck at times, to be honest, but I love it. I get a kick out of making sure the family’s getting decent grub, I like it when they say something is really tasty (I have a good memory), and, most of all, I love sitting down with them. We catch up, tell stupid jokes, have a moan, have a bit of a laugh, pass the plates round, have a second helping.
I was thinking about this at the Arabic Café the other Saturday. I was there by myself, at a corner table, with a perfect view of the room and the counter. I could see smiling faces, I could hear greetings and laughter and chatter, I could hear chairs being moved to make extra room for friends who’d showed up unexpectedly. It sounded like a home.
In a way that’s a shock, because this café was run partly by some of the refugees from the nightmare of Syria who arrived in Derry with next-to-nothing last year. And in a way it’s not so surprising at all, really, because it was also run by volunteers from Derry, doing all they can to make the refugees feel welcome and settled and help them build a new life and a new home here.
This was a pop-up café, but with an eye to creating a permanent café in the Nerve Centre at some time in the future. Refugees arrive with few, if any, material possessions, but they do bring knowledge and memory and a culture that so often comes most vividly and naturally on a plate. A café serving Arabic food is an obvious choice for these people who are desperate to build something special and lasting.
Although I was eating alone, I decided to order more dishes than I needed. Yes, I’m greedy, but I also wanted to explore what was available. I really enjoyed my salad of onions, cucumber, lettuce and tomato, common enough ingredients but made to sing by mint and lemon.
The cheese fatayer were lovely. These are little pasties made with thick pastry and filled with mozzarella, mint, and cumin. I say filled, but, in truth, there wasn’t too much inside them. The pastry was delicious, however – nicely crisp on the outside and then a soft, moist inner layer, full of flavour.
The chicken feast felt like a real, homely dish. There was loads of chicken, albeit slightly dry, and a good variety of textures from the different vegetables – soft mushrooms, crunchy carrots, slippery tomatoes. The rice that came with the chicken was delightful, gleaming white, perfectly cooked, a hint of stickiness, and well seasoned.
I was frustrated by the other main I ordered. This was the Kobbeh, a small roll of minced lamb inside a thick shell that was first crunchy and then soft and giving. The mix of burghul and pistachio and onion gave this a terrific bite and flavour, but – BUT – there was only one of them. You can’t make something this nice and then only serve one.
For pudding, I had Huda’s Cake, layers of creamy, set custard, moist sponge, chocolate, and pistachios – delicate, sweet, refined – and a slice of chocolate dotted with biscuit, rolled in coconut. Again, this was lovely, not too sweet, mild and moreish.
There are things to iron out if this is to become a permanent fixture, but what this place had in abundance was heart and hope. For people who have come so far, you get the impression they’ve arrived.
THE BILL
Arabic salad £2
Cheese fatayer £1.50
Kobbeh £2.50
Chicken feast £5
Huda’s cake £2
Chocolate cake £2
Arabic mint tea £2
Total: £17
