It's okay to eat fish because they don't have any feelings.

Zen

In some ways Zen is an innovator. When it opened a few people speculated that bringing "sushi" to Kigali was a brave and expensive decision to make. Au contraire my little Kigali chums, it's an almost guaranteed cash cow. Moooooooo.

"You must go to Zen, they have sushi".

Really?

Clean lines are everything with sushi. We eat first with our eyes (OK, sometimes with our nose), and proper Itamae know this. Their precision and attention to detail is about confidence, experience, and an appreciation for the quality of the ingredients. If you're going to eat such delicate meat, plucked from ever diminishing ocean stocks you should want to know that it has been treated with due respect.

You should. Or perhaps you don't care. Perhaps you'd rather go to Zen and stick your dirty middle finger up at twelve centuries of Japanese culinary tradition. Perhaps you really hate marine ecosystems, and are on a personal mission to wipe out every last little fishy bastard in the sea. Fine. We all have our pecadilloes.

The mixed plate of sashimi and badly-packed rolls we're presented with at Zen resembles a drawer full of odd socks, yet… nobody even raises an eyebrow around the table. Do Zen's customers really think sushi tastes like a combination of mirin, cheap bilious-green wasabi, tired ginger, and soy sauce? You could substitute the tiny nuggets of frozen-shitless salmon for chunks of finely-chopped raw owl and no-one would notice so long as the chef remembered to pluck the feathers off. What a brilliant scam. 

Sushi aside, there are plenty of gloopy, directionless 'pan-Asian'  items on the menu. A few things come on those pointless sizzling platters. Onions seem to be a key ingredient as per those cheapo all-you-can-eat Chinese buffets you find in basements in the more studenty parts of London. Just wait until you get home though, when the headache and dehydration hits you in the middle of the night. That will be the salt and MSG pressing their stinky feet on the back of your neck. If you're lucky you'll just have a few interesting dreams about penguins. If you're not so lucky you'll wake up shaking and chasing an imaginary bat around your bedroom with a rolled up copy of the Kenya Airways in-flight magazine.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

They seem to be doing a decent amount of trade though. Yay. 

Zen is in Nyarutarama near the MTN centre. Zen has a Facebook page, but why not look at this instead?

There is a day that is yours for embracing / Everything's nothing, and nothing is ours

The cheerful woman pulls her cardigan tight against the chilly morning air, and whispers with a conspiratorial tone:

"I used to make a bit of extra money from doing research".

"Doing research?" I frown at the translator. "Are you sure?".

"Yes. Foreigners come here from Kigali. They always come to ask us about land, so we go and answer their questions."

I see. Research.

"So what do they ask you?"

The woman pouts and turns her head to one side. "They want to know private things. How many children we have, and if we are poor. Of course we are poor! They ask if we understand that we can inherit land from our fathers."

"Can you inherit land from your father?"

"Yes." she nods "The law says so."                                                                    ****

Pascha at the Aberdeen House Hotel

Kigali has a Turkish restaurant.

"The problem is, when I see the word sumac on the menu, I start thinking 'Mmm... sumac'. When the food comes without the promised sumac the disappointment is doubled."
There is a little bit of sumac on the plate. At least I think it is sumac. It is the merest dusting over a pile of raw onions. The raw onions still taste like raw onions.

Çöp kebabs are presented on their spokey little skewers, but the lamb lacks the smokiness of the ocakbaşı - as if they've been cooked over a gas grill. There is little crunch to accompany them - no parsley or salad veg, just half a grilled tomato, a tiny chunk of grilled pepper, and a pile of rice and lukewarm chips. The onion "sumac" is left untouched. The lavash - what little there is - is soft and fresh. Adena kebab suffers a similar fate - no smokiness, too little of interest on the plate. Just bland cooked meat and carbs. At 8,000 RwF a plate this may very well be the biggest rip-off since Heaven water.

You can't fault the service, which is quick and gently obsequious, and it's nicely laid out for daytime eating, with beanbags for children and a bit of greenery.

The parsimony over the sumac seems to sum up what is wrong with Pascha. The strengths of Turkish cuisine lie in its simplicity and generosity. It should be rugged, driven by fresh ingredients and primal cooking techniques. Pascha takes all the guts and soul out of good Turkish cooking and presents you with a greedy bill.

Still, Kigali has a Turkish restaurant.

Aberdeen House Hotel

Gaculiro
Website                                                                     ****

 
"Why do you think they come here to talk to you?"

"The woman who brings them from Kigali has an Auntie living in this village. She likes to help people here".

"Do they pay you for answering questions?"

"Sometimes. The American people pay the best. Maybe 1,000 or 1,500 francs just for sitting there talking. Sometimes you just get biscuits and fanta and no money."

We pause. The translator is anxious to go. I wonder if the woman hopes I'm going to pay for our chat.

"Are your parents surviving?"

She looks down, smiles. "No. My father passed when I was young. My mother passed last year"

"I'm sorry... Madame, did you inherit their land?"

"No."

I give her a small tray of peanuts from my backpack and we leave for Musanze.

Short Calls

Busy busy busy. Some bite size reviews:

Alpha Palace, Remera
I had dinner at the Alpha Palace Hotel with a delegation of visiting Ethiopians for which I am still apologising. A buffet of carbs, carbs and carbs topped with pieces of blackened goat eyebrows, flaccid shitefish and petrified chicken noses. The fancy napery and fish knives laid out on the table added a final touch of unintentional sarcasm.

Still, it's a great place for dancing at the weekend, and they sometimes have wonderfully shambolic bands playing Great Lakes classics rather than the usual ersatz covers of UB40.

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The Manor, Nyarutarama
Shortly after this place opened I was singing its praises. The hotel was all new and shiny and promising, with professional management on the floor, a decent chef in the kitchen, and pretty good service all round. I even went as far as to write about it in the Brussels Airways in-flight magazine. Yeah - like some sort of filthy sellout corporate whoremonster.

I spoke too soon though. In a little over two years this place is now completely shagged out and increasingly resembles one of Saddam Hussein's old palaces. The Indian restaurant upstairs under the enormous skanky tent does a decent vindaloo, but the other restaurants are an omnishambles. At least I get to use one of my favourite words to describe the service: "headlessness".

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Buffalo Bar, Kisimenti, Remera
Shriveled up pieces of goat on a stick. That is all.

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Hellenique, Kimihurura
Why is this place so consistently empty? The food is great, there is a view, there are proper knives and forks, and it's not far from the Kimi nightlife. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?

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La Classe, Kiyovu
No crime in Kigali? Then you haven't had your wallet nicked at La Classe. I was once thrown out of here for singing the chorus to "Horse with no name" over and over and over and over. The brochettes are pretty good though.

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Kabana Club, Kacyiru (behind the petrol station next to Umubano)
My hiding place. It smells vaguely of drains and cigarette smoke, but don't let that put you off. Pizzas are so-so, but the garlic and chilli oil is top end. Simultaneously well heeled and rough and ready, like a thug wearing expensive trousers.

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Normal Jiffling service will resume shortly.

You little sod, I love your eyes / Be everything to me tonight

The Director leans forward and nods toward the crowded bar: 

"You must have seen it all in this place"

I look across at the crowd. A team of crusty foreign aid workers size each other up. A wedding planning committee is having a miserable time. Some sex workers passively hustle, playing the game of eyes with a lonely Chinese engineer (his hands and face are sunburned red, he must be working on the roads). The regulars at the bar are watching French news and reminiscing about the time when they were big men. A few middle-aged gorilla hunters wear special Africa trousers with too many pockets. Two fat Kenyans animatedly talking politics. A lone female NGO worker hides behind a laptop. Broken glass. What are all these misfits doing in my living room?

*****

Dear Chez Lando

You've seen me through the best of times, the worst of times. Wisdom and foolishness. Friday after work beers at table 10. Remember that ugly brawl a couple of years back? There were celebration dinners, commiseration meetings, football matches, noisy tables of eight and intimate tables of two. Mostly it's just you and me and a paperback.

Remember when we met back in July 2005? I'd just arrived on SN Brussels without any luggage. Two big Mutzigs and a poulet bicyclette later and our affair had begun. We were both a bit rough around the edges back then, but we've slowly smartened up our act. My dusty boots and 5-day beard made way for sharp suits and 3-day stubble.  Smart tiles and wooden ceilings have replaced the concrete and mosquitos. We still got soul though. The spark is still there.

Our relationship is complicated. I'm sorry Chez Lando about the one-night-stands with the Umubano and other hotels. They always seem like a good idea at the time. I always come back though, and you welcome me with a hug and the keys to Room 183. You know what I'm like and don't mind.

But this can't go on forever. Big events in my small life mean it's time for me to move on my dear friend. To go to the place where my stuff is, where my real life is. Will you share my last brochette?

Keep on keepin' on

The Jiffler

***** 

The Director looks up from the menu. "You must have tried every dish on here".

True. I even taught one of the chefs how to make mashed potato the way I like it. The way my Mum makes it.

"If you're in Kigali for six months of the year why don't you just rent an apartment?"

I mutter some excuses about this and that, about the location, the per diems, the whatever.

The truth is that Chez Lando is home.

Chez Lando Website

He's the one who likes all our pretty songs

The Don leans over and expels smoke from the side of his mouth.

"This is no place for men like us to talk. I know somewhere we can go and have rotating chicken".

A taxi ride away in Kimironko, we draw up outside the Bloom Hotel. The restaurant has a tin roof that rattles loudly under the rain. We won't be overheard. The Bloom Hotel does a 6,000 RwF rodizio menu at the weekends. Good Idea.

With Waragi procured, the Don grunts at the waiter "Bring me that Kenyan". The Kenyan arrives and we negotiate ugali and sukuma wiki on the side to keep The Philosopher happy.

"This is Brazilian Nyama Choma" I explain to general indifference.

It's not bad to be fair. The place is scruffy and simple enough to resemble a proper churrascaria and the grill is a fairly authentic looking piece of kit. There are no feijao or farofa though, and the choice of meat is limited to goat, chicken and cubes of lovely salty beef. We finish with huge chunks of grilled pineapple covered in cinnamon and lean back in our chairs to pick our teeth.

"I think I'd like it in Brazil" muses the philosopher.

Bloom Hotel Website

Yeah, there's a great truth you should know

Select is a proper restaurant. It is a cocktails in the bar, lashings of red wine, three courses, cigars and brandy restaurant. It is also, for Kigali, a bit on the pricey side (read: London mid-range pricing). If anything this improves the place somewhat, as it keeps out the young-gifted-&-white riff-raff who think it's acceptable to go out to dinner wearing flip-flops and a t-shirt with writing on. Instead you'll find senior civil servants, perhaps a politician or two, sharp-suited business men, and clean-shirted expats who don't wear baseball caps at the table.

There is a nice view of the city, as is compulsory these days, and the whole place is comfortably elegant. You know you're in a serious restaurant, but there is none of the stiff formality.

Most of the food is sourced locally, but a fair bit is air-freighted from Europe or the Swahili coast. I know this is naughty, but look at the menu: monster prawns, scallops, sea bass, Dover sole... and if you want to be really naughty you can order melt in the mouth foie gras.

Most dishes on the menu are European classics. Goat cheese tart is far better than it should be, and beef carpaccio is precise but perhaps a little too delicate on flavour. Did I mention the foie gras? Mains are pretty robust - how about a fatty, juicy heft of pork shoulder that is practically hanging of the plate (according to the owner, this is rapidly becoming Select's signature dish)? Coq au vin is traditional and without a trace of poulet bicyclette, and prawns comes as big as your hand. Oh yeah - the chips are good too.

The staff are charming and efficient. There's no need to double fist your Mutzigs here as the service is prompt and attentive without being pushy or lurking. The owner, Michel, has run restaurants around the world and welcomes you self-deprecatingly, while the head chef acts as his foil, making sure no lady's hand goes unkissed. A tour of the impressive kitchen reveals a relaxed and smiling team who believe in what they are doing.

Book a table. Go. Wear your best shoes.

Select Website

'Cause, this is where the one who knows / Meets the one who does not care

Located behind the Union Trade Centre, Blues Cafe is a knock off of Bourbon Cafe only with a much lower population density of 21 year old white girls.

Oh yeah - that reminds me - have a look at this if you fancy a giggle.

Blues Cafe seems like a good spot to grab something quick on a Sunday afternoon. The menu is again familiar from Bourbon Cafe, with addition of a few burgers, and one of my favourite guilty pleasures - the Rolex (an omelette rolled up inside a chapathi. It was the clandestine consumption of these during extensive fieldwork in Kenya in the late 90's that kept me from strangling several of my colleagues and throwing them into the latrine. Anyhow, we'll leave that for the memoirs).

Eschewing the Rolex I opt for a Tramezzini, more to annoy myself than anything because:
a/ Tramezzini is the plural. How annoying. Not as annoying as 'Expresso', but getting there
b/ Tramezzino basically means 'sandwich' in Italian. It's a club sandwich for god's sake. Sure enough a pizza is a pizza and pasta is pasta, but a sandwich is a sandwich in English. You wouldn't order fagioli su pane tostato oustide of Italy. Actually you wouldn't order it inside Italy either. Can you imagine the mess they'd make of it there? There would be all manner of garlic and parmesan nonsense.

My companion, The Philosopher orders a chicken burger. We order large glasses of slightly sweetened fresh fruit cocktail, and settle in for a discussion of Kenyan constitutional reform. Settle in for an hour and fifteen minutes before we see our food. Add to this another 5 minutes for knives and forks to arrive, the request for which proves difficult to understand, despite being made clearly and slowly in six different languages (not Italian though maybe that's the problem).

So the tramezzino is alright. Chicken pieces are slightly curried and covered in a sort of pink approximation of marie-rose sauce (Yeah, me neither). There are bits of avocado. I like avocado.

What is the plural of avocado? Avocadi or avocados? Answers on the back of a voting slip please.

The philosopher seems more puzzled by his burger. It's foundation is a not insubstantial breast of poulet-bicyclette, but it is the fried egg sitting atop that is causing consternation.

"I'm not sure I should be eating chicken and egg at the same time" remarks the philosopher, frowning.

I see where he's going with this and ask: "Would you eat beef and milk at the same time?".

"No. That would be ridiculous".

"OK..."

"I mean, you have to leave a little bit of something don't you? Something for the chicken".

Like I say. The Philosopher.

Blues Cafe
Behind the Union Trade Centre
Tel: 078832366

So spill your breakfast and drip your wine, just wear that dress when you dine.

Despite once drunkenly claiming it to be 'the best restaurant in Kigali', I don't go to New Cactus often enough. I think this is mainly because I can never find it in the dark.

The view here rivals the best of Kigali views, so it is a shame that it is hidden from most of the tables. A quick natter with Christophe - a charming waiter/front of house - secures us a decent view on the lawn, and boozy refreshments are delivered swiftly.

Shared Triangles of deep fried pastry-wrapped goats cheese and bacon dipped in honey are something of a taste sensation here, and disappear quickly. Massive avocado halves are let down slightly by a too heavy hand with the vinaigrette. Mushrooms on toast are from a tin, so avoid these.

Veal Cordon Bleu comes fist-sized (that's big - my hands are somewhat agricultural) and swimming in a rich cheese sauce which invites the dipping of perfect chips. Veg is that usual peculiar melange of frozen peas&brocolli&carrot a la Chez Lando.

After an initial confusion of orders, a steak arrives at our table shrunken and practically burnt rather than rare as requested. The Atilla the Hun of Restaurant feedback sends it back, and sure enough a properly cooked version swiftly appears along with an offer of extra chips.

So a screw-up then, but one quickly rectified and accompanied by all sorts of apologetic genuflection. How often do you find that in a Kigali restaurant? Complaints are usually met with an indifferent Sarkozy-esque shrug and a partial admission of responsibility...

New Cactus
Kayuku Street, Kiyovu I think...
Tel: +250252572572

It's okay, even better this way. That's what they'll tell you. That's what they'll say

Just down the Hill from Mille Collines - in what I think used to be the American club - the Royal Garden is knocking out a mix of Chinese and Indian food, and minestrone soup.

The main thrust of the menu is the sort of vaguely Indian cuisine served at Khazana, although with the addition a whole page of ever reliable egg curries on the menu.

A few years back there used to be an Indian Restaurant in Kigali called the Minar, and I wonder if the chef at Royal Garden used to work there. Like the Minar, Royal Garden's curries are quite rich and creamy, and very heavy on the ghee. Fresh herbs are in evidence, but these fail to make much an impression against the heavy sauces.

Tandoori roti's are OK, a little over-cooked around the edges, and rices fine. Our paneer sizzler is delayed, and arrives only after one of our table ("the Atilla the Hun of restaurant feedback") wrestles a waiter to the ground and sets about him with a tightly rolled chapathi. What arrives is kind of weird, and involves cabbage, chicken, and cheese.

But lo - the manager takes it off the bill, and demands feedback. OK then, here is my feedback:
Lighten up the food and tighten up the service. Skim off some of that ghee and have more faith in your spices and fresh herbs. Keep the breads moving quick in the tandoori - they need to come straight to the table before they start cooling and going hard. Tighten up on service - it is very friendly and polite but the wait on the sizzler dish was a bit silly.
And take the tinned soups off the menu.

It is Valentine's night, and the place is packed with people wearing red. Our table are the only wazungu present, so it is sort of the inverse of Khazana in that respect. I reckon that could be a very good thing indeed. Once the restaurant settles in a bit, I'd say the food might easily match up to Khazana (and no Khazana-style "morning after" problems were reported). So Royal Garden: good luck.

Royal Garden
Kiyovu, Opposite the Bank National of Rwanda
Tel:0788 500073
Email: gardenroyal@yahoo.com

I go, I come back.

I'm back. My usual table please.

Despite an absence of 18 months or so, the staff at Chez Lando greet me like an old friend. Some things have changed for the better - there are more hotel rooms and fewer tarts in the bar than previously - and some things have taken a turn for the worse. The best bar in Kigali, Jiffling HQ, is now a building site, and we're forced to take our Mutzigs around the corner were the old nightclub used to be. At least you can get a croque-monsieur now (well, a loose interpretation of one). All my lobbying finally paid off.

I see Ndoli's still sells Domaine Bergon for 8000 RwF, and that the hot snacks still make you ill. Sole Luna seems bigger, or maybe I just got smaller, and the young digital nomads still play the game of eyes with each other from behind their laptops at the Bourbon Cafe. Is it me, or is Bourbon Cafe getting a little scruffy?

Anyhow, recommendations please folks. Don't be shy.

Getting out of town

Its been a little while, and material has dried up somewhat. In the New Year I'll update the Kigali 'long list' of reviews and sort them into restaurant types for easy surfing action.

For now though, lets have a look further afield. Some gorilla hunting types may end up spending the night in Ruhengeri on their way to visit our hairy cousins in Volcanoes National Park. With this in mind, here are a few reviews from Ruhengeri.

Having spent the best part of three months based in Ruhengeri, I'd recommend visitors avoid some of the more down at heel bars. As well as the usual annoyingly drunk 'friends' that strangers seem to accumulate in such places, I witnessed a fair few angry punch-ups. My interest in the grotty bars of the world remains strong, but it's important to know when it's time to leave.

Tourist Rest House, Rue Muhabura
Despite the general air of grubbiness and foot dragging service, this place remains my favourite place to eat in Ruhengeri. The Ugandan manager speaks good English and is eager to please. The menu is reasonably varied and its a good place to meet friendly folk from Ruhengeri who are having a quiet drink, as well as overlanders and backpackers.

Recommended:

• Cheap, and reasonably varied menu. Very good chappathis.
• Friendly and calm atmosphere.

Avoid:

• When the power goes off the mice come out to play.

Hotel Urumuri, Rue du Marche
Hard to work out what is going on here, it seems a bit disorganised. Most things on the menu are off, but brochettes are almost guaranteed. You may have to wait some time while they go out and buy the meat though.

Recommended:

• Cheap

Avoid:

• Boring food
• A bit disorganised - you'll have a long wait

Silverback Bar and Restaurant, Avenue du 5 Juillet (website)
This is a great spot for lunch as you can watch the world go by on Ruhengeri 'High Street'. Food is good quality - the usual brochettes etc, but with a few sandwiches and salads thrown in as well as a lunchtime buffet. There is a decent disco here, and a modern hotel. Its also a good spot for keeping an eye on bus arrivals and departures.

Recommended:

• For people watching
• Good, clean environment

Avoid:

• Can get busy at lunchtime

Home d'Accueil, Avenue du 5 Juillet
Offers up a single massive plate of food at lunchtime, usually beef of some description, with all the carbs and beans you can eat. A little flirtation brings out the best in the staff and it's a pleasant place to spend lunchtime. Some senior military personnel like to eat lunch here, so everyone is well behaved.

Recommended:

• Cheap with massive portions
• Quick service at lunchtime

Avoid:

• Little choice available

Hotel Muhabura, Avenue du 5 Juillet
Supposedly the only 'decent' hotel in Ruhengeri, this place suffers from the blight of many Rwandese hotels - they are happy to bump guests out of their rooms if a better offer comes in. The food is no better than Silverback, but the prices are higher. You might meet NGO types here.

Recommended:

• Not a bad place for a drink
• The food is OK

Avoid:

• Overpriced
• Bad service
• Awful, awful coffee.

Some other tips on Ruhengeri that the guidebook neglects to tell you:

If you've just returned from Gorilla trekking and are eager to email your friends and family about your amazing experience, please take your muddy boots off before you go into the internet cafes. The owners are too polite to say anything, but they get very annoyed with the daily gang of dirty foreigners trailing mud onto their premises. Your courtesy will be acknowledged with kind smiles.

If you're travelling by bus keep a little spare change for the people who gather to beg around the bus stations. These people are not opportunists like you might occasionally find in Kigali, but are often people with mental health problems or who are very physically ill.

Don't walk on the grass in the middle of the main road through Ruhengeri, cross only where indicated.

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I'll post a guide to Gisenyi soon. Butare, being a university town has a few exciting places to eat - I've had some worthwhile stops there. I'm not that familiar with the town though, so ideas welcome.