Khamsa

One of the best things about the World Cup is the sudden awareness it gives us Brits of other countries. Algeria meant very little until Friday, and few people could even place Slovenia on a map, but come Wednesday it will be our arch nemesis.

The Boyfriend has had an entire week off to watch the World Cup. Most days he has not even managed to get dressed properly. On Thursday and Friday I joined him, but by Saturday I was going a little nuts and decided to look at the World Cup Jessica style.

Some friends invited us out for dinner. With new awareness of the African nation of Algeria, we settled on Khamsa, a restuarant on my beloved Acre Lane and Algerian to the max (the decor is mainly Algerian flags pinned to the walls, windows and doors).

It had rather excellent reviews, and although the (extremely short) menu was a photocopied booklet with each one having the pages in a different and varied order, we ordered a range of unpronouncible starters and main courses, and they were all delicious.

It is bring your own booze, and so the cost is kept to a minimum. We shared a vat of hummus and bread, and also a very nice chickpea, tomato and sausage salady thing (it was called chkcoka - and yes the waitress will make you have a go at pronouncing it). For mains I went for chicken skewers with couscous. The others went for rather spectacular smelling (and looking) tagines (order couscous separately though - they don't come with anything) which were also thoroughly delicious.

It is nothing too fancy or over the top. It will not overwhelm you with choice or grandeur. But it will fill you up, won't break the bank and provides you with a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Plus across the road is Brixton's finest bar - The Grand Union, complete with cocktails and treehouses. The perfect end to a tummyful of Algerian nosh.