Brains, anyone?

When I was in Egypt in September, I stayed in a Catholic school in Cairo. Across the street was a fast food place called, as I remember, "Three Stars." I thought this was funny, because here in America things are usually measured on a five-star scale; like a five-star restaurant would be awesome, while a three-star place would be only so-so.

"Look, they only gave themselves three stars," I said to Darren as we walked in for lunch one day. "Like they're saying, 'hey everyone! We're not great, but we're good enough!'"

Darren laughed, I think, but it was a long time ago now, and I don't know for sure. I thought it was funny, but I've also been known to nearly fall of my chair laughing at a movie where all the major characters were played by thumbs. Anyway, what I do know is that Darren eventually ordered the cow brain sandwich. I didn't, because I'd had cow brains before, and once was certainly enough.

It was at my aunt's house for Christmas Eve one year. My father's side of the family is mostly Egyptian, and this is the sort of thing that can happen to you when you are only half-Egyptian as I am: you can end up eating something like cow brains at your aunt's house and not even know it, because it would never occur to the non-Egyptian half of you that anyone might actually put cow brains on the table, for people to eat.

On that Christmas Eve, I put what I thought were chicken patties on my plate. I don't know why I didn't think it was odd that we would be having chicken patties, of all things. Not really your typical holiday fare. But my sister the cowgirl and I both tucked in, and I personally thought it wasn't terrible, but definitely odd, and had a strange mushy texture for a chicken patty. The cowgirl agreed, and then our cousin came out of the kitchen.

"So, how's the [insert Arabic word for cow brains here, which I can't spell phonetically in English and can barely say in Arabic anyway]?" he said.

"Huh?" said the cowgirl and I.

"You know," he said. "The cow brains."

"No," we said, "No way."

He laughed. "Yes. Oh yes."

We stopped eating.

(As an interesting side note, the cowgirl has since had the chance to lop off, fry up, and eat...a calf's testicles. She says they are good. And that they taste like chicken. Me, I think I'd rather have the brains over the balls, but I'll settle for neither even more happily.)

But about Three Stars in Cairo. Darren didn't get sick from the cow brain sandwich and actually he indicated that he kind of liked it. I don't know if I believed him, but he finished it, so he must not have hated it too much. As for me, I found out that they have a pretty good chicken kebab sandwich. At least, I hope it was chicken. Anyway, it was good enough to warrant another star, and possibly even two thumbs up!