The need for breathing space and Arabic pizza

 

So this is how it feels to be trapped in an coffin-like enclosure.

My head was strapped down to the bed by a velcro belt, then the kind attendant clamped the robust plastic head cage shut and reeled me into my 25-minute coffin. But instead of enjoying the peaceful silence of pseudo death as I closed my eyes, I was greeted with a mild whirring, which turned into a slow rapping tap…tap…tap…tap. Then the taps swelled into a blaring ringing like a telephone pressed against the ear.

I quickly opened my eyes to see what exactly was going on, but all I saw was the bellied curve of the medical machine an inch away from my pudgy nose and so I squeezed my eyes shut again. The gritting sounds changed every few minutes – from continuous buzzing to pulsing shrill wails to furious pounding – and my breaths were shorter by the second. I wanted to get out of this enclosure quick. Unfortunately, all I could do was to wiggle my toes to show my discomfort, else the medical test would be rendered unusable.

Then came the abrupt deathly silence and the quick swish from roll of the cot on its industrial steel base. “We’re done Madam.” the attendant said.

I was sure glad it was.

After this encounter of the claustrophobic kind, I needed some breathing space, time to just savor it and, of course, comfort food to cure this ail. And so I took a quick train ride and dropped by Breakfast to Breakfast to satisfy this gnawing curiosity for eggs and sujuk (Turkish sausage) man’ousheh. Since I only had tummy space for one, I won’t be having manakeesh. So now you know the difference eh?

I sat myself beside the Breakfast to Breakfast glass windows for some good lighting and for some people watching. After being trapped for 25-minutes in that medical capsule, it is good to see people walk past, moving about in wide open space. Kuya, which means elder brother – a moniker we use for strangers of the male kind (I think there is at least one Filipino in every establishment here in the UAE), set down the freshly baked man’ousheh in front of me and it’s beefy perfume was enough to rid the strain from the enclosure encounter.

This particular Arabic pizza (doesn’t it look like one?) isn’t like the ones I used to eat. Aside from the girlish curves that lined its circumference, the crust was thicker, pillowy soft and…sweeter, a contrast to the spiced sujuk.

The sweetness of the man’ousheh’s crust brought me back memories of the local bakery staple, the monay: dense yet soft, milky sweet rolls, sometimes irreverently shaped like a butt (And no, not a cigarette butt), and kept shiny with a brush of margarine. Open space and memories of home…I am almost cured.

Yet something was missing. I needed a kick of salt. The red sujuk sprinked generously on the crust and the bubbly baked egg was not enough. And I realized I should’ve ordered an add-on, cheese or my beloved labneh. It would’ve been an epic cure for the enclosed. Maybe next time. I’m sure it could be a cure for something else because I’d rather I stay away from that coffin-like enclosure for a year at the very least.

I sat on my spot for another 10-minutes, sipped my cup of water, listened to the chatter of the Arabic manager taking down take away orders of Breakfast to Breakfast treats and watched people of all colors and sizes come and go.

It really is a treat be to out here.

 

Breakfast to Breakfast

Near the Al Rigga stop of the Dubai Metro

Deira, Dubai UAE

+9714222-3566 / +9714222-3011

Eggs & Sujuk man’ousheh (15 AED)

Single serve mineral water (3AED)

 

Delirious about delicious,

Didi