the babouche doesn't fit

I have a thing about bellydancers. Namely, I don't ever want to see them while eating. I don't know what it is, but the combination of jingly dancing while dining represents sheer absurdity to me. And on Saturday night, as we were celebrating Linda's birthday with a dinner at Babouche in Park Slope, my fear of absurdity took place. We were in Park Slope, on 5th Avenue. What could be less appropriate than bare-naveled women at our dinner table?

As soon as we sat down at our table, it got dark. Really dark. As in something's-about-to-happen dark. All of a sudden, horrendously loud music kicked in and people started clapping, which would be fun in any other circumstance (trust me, I do love O-PAH-ing and clapping and drinking) except now, right before we found it was B.Y.O.B.

But thankfully, we were spared because all the darkness and loudness did not lure forth bellydancers. Rather, it was someone else's birthday at another table, and a cake was proffered, just as Linda's face proffered us a look of horror. Please, no, I don't want that, she said. We spared her. Unfortunately, we were spared many other things, like...um, I don't know, really good food?


We had an 8:30 reservation, but it took a good 24 minutes before we were actually seated. As we waited at the bar, we were offered these tall glasses of what tasted like white wine. But seeing that the place was B.Y.O.B, I guess we really didn't know what it was. Oh well. It was sweet and wine-y.


We were finally seated at a very low large, round table that had us sitting what I can only describe as spread-eagle. We straddled the table with our knees and had to lean over to hear each other across the vast expanse. Bah! Thankfully, one of the appetizers we ordered was delicious. But sadly, this turned out to be my only favorite thing: briouats ($8.75), which were crispy puff pastry filled with chicken and almonds. It was deliciously hot and spicy, and best of all, the top was dusted with powdered sugar. So the sweetness and the saltiness was delightful! Like eating little savory beignets.


It is a huge pet peeve of mine when hummus, which should be a standard star at such a restaurant, is a letdown. And this pile ($6.75) of it was, especially because it was served with less than stellar pita bread.


Thankfully, we had each other's company, which was the best part of the meal.


The boys ran off to get a bottle of wine from a liquor store a few blocks away, and upon their return, our meal came out. Look! Tagine.


This better be good.


It was my Couscous Royale ($19.75), which was a heaping mound of actually really delicious and fluffy couscous, topped with chicken, lamb and spicy merguez sausage (my favorite one). There were big hunks of veggies mixed in as well. It was all pretty good, but nothing that was too exciting or great.


Matt got the lamb tagine ($19.75). He enjoyed the lamb, which was tender and nice, but...eh...it was just decent lamb.


Tim orders the shrimp pistcou ($19.75). Prognosis: good. Everyone seems to be giving half-hearted "good" answers about their dishes.


And like any good birthday girl should, Linda gets some steaming hot big balls. Namely, the kefta tagine ($19.75), which consisted of big balls of ground lamb.


And in a moment of fine food criticism indeed, and the most forceful opinion yet about the cuisine, Tim declares Linda's kefta dish to taste like "armpit." Yes, that's right, the balls taste like armpit.

Needless to say, a lovely and amusing dinner with sadly disappointing food. We skipped dessert.

Babouche
163 5th Avenue at Lincoln Place (Park Slope, Brooklyn)
Reservations: Recommended
Party: 4
Drinks: B.Y.O.B.
Total (without tip,includes drinks): $102.41 + bottle of wine
Rating (out of a possible 5 breadsticks):


After dinner, we headed back to Tim and Linda's to play some Wii. I usually fear for anything that involves balance and coordination, but this was quite fun, although quite frustrating at times. But I was very excited to play Cooking Mama, the intensely cutsey Japanese game where you race against the clock to do some fake cooking, slicing and dicing!


And ohmygoodness was it maddening. I never knew it was so hard to cut some meat and stir. After a short, frustrating session, I swear I have carpal tunnel syndrome and a new appreciation for the difficulties of fake cooking.