Cock-a-hoop in Camden.

Recent weeks have rather been taken up with excessive booze intake and hen hilarity, as this year heralds the knot tying of some very dear friends indeed.  First up, the lovely Cat.  A weekend in London, staying in a fab little flat in Camden, culminated in fifteen or so of us partaking in a massively decadent and delicious meal at Pasha in Kensington. 
http://www.pasha-restaurant.co.uk/
Pasha specialises in North African cuisine and isn't cheap but it was a very special occasion and the decor didn't disappoint.  It was the epitome of opulence with carved tables, rose petals scattered everywhere and the air heavy with the smell of incense and hookah pipes.
We started proceedings with cocktails, mine was called a Sapphire Rose, and consisted of gin, lychee, pink grapefruit, lemon juice and rose petals.  It cost the best part of a tenner but it was so worth it....delectable.
We had all ordered a "feast" menu which consisted of several cold starter dishes or "Kemia" to share, followed by hot Kemia, a main of your choice and then dessert dishes to share.  I don't think any of us were expecting the sheer volume of food; it just kept coming!  Brought out in a continuous flow, it started off very healthy with lentil salads, hoummous, tabbouleh and the like.  Then came little hot pastries of chicken, feta and spinach and, not so healthy now, deep fried cheese.
All this was washed down with copious amounts of house wine.  The Kemia courses were rounded off by one very hot (and I don't mean temperature wise!) belly dancer gyrating right by our table, as we tried not to look her in the eye for too long in case she persuaded us to dance with her.  (Of course Cat and I were up dancing before the end of the night!)
The Kemia would have been a lovely meal in itself, but no, this was a feast, which meant everyone had to be uncomfortably groaning by the end of the evening!  I had chosen the "grill" option, as had most.  This was marinated chicken, lamb and delicious, spicy merguez sausages, served with a pile of cous cous and salad.  I didn't want to waste any food and it was gorgeous, the meat meltingly tender, but I was stuffed.  Fortunately I struck on that age old British tradition of asking for a doggy bag!  Hey presto, cold hangover feast for on the train back tomorrow.  (It went down very well indeed).  After more belly dancing dessert came and most of that went into the doggy bag too.  The meal was rounded off with an electric hookah pipe inside and an authentic shisha one outside, most enjoyable.  I drank gallons of mint tea which sorted me out and prepared me for the next phase of the evening; Mr Scruff at Koko in Camden, but that's another story...