We made another attempt to visit Onno, the famous little Armenian restaurant in Bourj Hammoud, under a filthy flyover. We took a car this time, and of course the maps were confusing so the driver took us over the flyover instead of under it. We had to do a long loop through traffic, and he was very apologetic and fearful; to receive a poor rating can destroy a driver’s work with Uber. He was a nice fellow though a poor driver, but one doesn’t give less than five stars unless there is something truly lifethreatening, so there it is.
Eventually we arrived at Onno and once more it was shut, so I suppose we’ll give up on it now. We decided instead to find another restaurant, Varouj, supposed to be very good, and threaded through the area’s dark streets to find it. It was open this time, and we walked in. One table was occupied with a family and another with a sole man who looked up and glared furiously at us. He did not look like a gentle sort, nor one whom one would like to see with a machete in hand. We sat down and it turned out that was the waiter.
He came over and asked us what we wanted. ‘No Armenian,’ he said fiercely. ‘Only Lebanese’. This was a shame as it was an Armenian restaurant, but by now we were too intimidated by him and by the decapitated head of a pelican mounted on the wall. So I said, ‘one fattoush, one loubiyeh, one chicken liver, one batata harara and two ayran.’
He glared at us again, made a growling sound in his throat and stalked off. A few seconds later a small Nepali man scuttled out and scuttled back again, bearing two bottles of ayran from the corner store. We accepted them meekly.
It turned out the frightening man was also the cook and much clattering and clanging ensued as pots were no doubt flung about in rage. Eventually the food emerged and we accepted it without a fuss. It was generally fine, the potatoes were particularly good, but the chicken liver in pomegranate molasses was not great. We finished, asked for the bill and he snarled from across the room, ‘forty thousand’. With quaking hands we pulled out a 100,000 pound note and he sent his minion to get change. Then we made a run for it.