Let's automatically avoid palavers because, apart from its first seasons, the Arab World Institute has never had an appetite.
As if in such a hurry to convince of its spirituality, the place panicked, in the sky of its restaurant, to share the earthly food.
You might as well not be too sulky by discovering the new scenario of a table now techno-colored by the inevitable Paris Society (Mun, Maison Russe, Mondaine de Pariso…) who play it like Jamel.
Yes, yes, the Jamel, the Debbouze, guest-star of this Dar Mima where the comedian invites his mother outright to sign the card.
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Does it sketch, does it make sense?
Maybe, maybe not, but after all having fun (delusional?), here, this running gag of the north-af' kitchen where, it seems, the best couscous is always that of its mother.
And the couscous from Jamel's mother (present, absent) does not fail.
This one light enough, soft to soak up the broth, honorable to support the grilled-braised flesh…
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