Moments: Hawawshi

This is the sort of thing I love about Cairo: You're out for an afternoon walk. Feeling a little thirsty, you stop at the nearest kiosk to buy a bottle of water, only to be overcome with the most amazing and unmistakable aroma drifting towards you from inside. Your first thought is proven correct as you see the young guy sitting behind the counter opening the silver foil covering his hawawshi, the steam rushing out.

Hawawshi is just one of those things that is so good (unless you're a vegetarian, in which case take no heed) that it can't really be adequately described. It's made from baladi bread, Egypt's version of pita bread (but much better) stuffed with spicy minced meat, brushed with oil, wrapped in aluminium foil and baked for about half an hour.

Being a hawawshi enthusiast, I was compelled to comment how beautiful the smell was and ask him if it was from a good shop (fellow hawawshi people having instilled in me the importance of verifying the quality of hawawshi establishments, which are prone to using questionable meat), thinking we could stop by and pick some up on our way home. He immediately picked it up and held it out to me to take. I refused. He insisted, waving it towards me. I thanked him and refused again.

Then, from beside me, my son's voice chimed in. "Aah, is that hawawshi?" The young man behind the counter smiled down at him as he tore his lunch down the middle and thrust half of it into the hands of my son, who didn't hesitate in accepting it and the kindness with which it was given.

As we continued our walk, the aroma of the hawawshi and the ripple effects of this man's generosity followed us down the street.