Just like ام used to make

Finally, nehari. Sweet, sweet nehari. Actually, it's not sweet--it's quite spicy. And it works amazingly well on a sweltering day.

A Pakistani reporter here at The National tipped me off to a few good places to try. Being in need of a stroll, I picked the one nearest to my hotel and started off. Of course, I wasn't so foolish as to simply try to follow the "directions" to the place: something along the lines of "on Electra, on the right as you head toward Le Meridien." The street is of course several kilometers long. So I checked with Google first, and armed with a better location, I hit the road.

The place was called Al Ibrahimi, and this was the first sign I saw.

A bakery? Looks delicious, but where is my stewed beef?

Pursuing the storefront around the corner, however, I found joy. So much joy, in fact, that it took two pictures to capture.

The restaurant so nice...

... they signed it twice.

Inside, no one really spoke English, but that was OK, because the menu was translated and I knew exactly what I wanted. Nehari, rice, raitha, sweet lassi. And that's what I got.

Pre-demolition nehari.

The only silverware I got was used for scooping rice and shredding beef. Fortunately I had learned in India to eat using just bread and my right hand--it paid off here. And then, my belly full of burning goodness, I tried to take the bus to work.

Proof that I was in the right place.

It went better than last time, but not by a huge margin. The No. 44 heads up Al Karamah Street, which looks closer to the office on a map than it really is. Especially on a 100-degree day. Next time I'll take the 32. Actually, next time I'll probably be living just a half-kilometer from the office... score one for reducing greenhouse emissions.