There were a few moments in the 1001 Nights restaurant when I thought I might not live to see another one night, let alone 1001.
The murky presence of imminent death certainly added spice to an otherwise bland and poorly-cooked meal, but it was not entirely welcome. A sprinkling of paprika would have been more appreciated.
The restaurant was empty when we took our seats but we were soon joined by three young toughs on one side and a solitary woman on the other. Solitary, that is, except for her two police bodyguards in bullet-proof vests.
To judge by her drab denim jacket and scruffy tennis shoes, it seemed unlikely that this woman was a high-ranking government official. Perhaps she was a witness to a mafia killing and required constant protection.
My companion and I feared her life had been threatened by the three other diners and that a shoot-out would soon ensue. The sense of apprehension was heightened by the numerous occasions when restaurant employees peered anxiously at us from the next room.
Our waiter did not seem keen for us to stay long, although he did ask once if we wanted more beer.
If we had not been in close proximity to lethal weapons I would have asked for a reduction in the cost of the meal. The prices were the most outrageous I have seen in any country in relation to the quality and quantity of the food.
Having asked the waiter to describe the Uzbek dishes listed on the menu, we started to order some of the more adventurous-sounding delicacies. Our suggestions were rejected one at a time as being unavailable.
Three kinds of soup and Uzbek speciality bread were "off." I accepted the one remaining soup for 50,000 roubles ($11) and my companion chose mushrooms in smetana (sour cream) as her starter at 40,000 roubles ($9).
The soup was a dismal bouillon containing very fatty meat, boiled potatoes, carrots, onions and parsley. The mushroom dish was more substantial but not at all flavorsome.
An Orgasm cocktail might have cheered us both up at 45,000 roubles ($10). We preferred to retain a few roubles in our pockets, and so opted for Nevskoye beer at 8000 roubles ($2) a bottle.
The beer at least was one thing which could not be spoilt by inept cooks.
"I advise you not to order the roast chicken," said our waiter with concern, "because you can get chicken anywhere but plov is an Uzbek dish so I suggest you both have that."
We were in no mood to argue, but my companion does not eat meat so she asked for plov without meat. This was possible but the price would be the same, 50,000 roubles ($11).
Our plov arrived on plates the size of saucers. It was almost cold, and the dish without meat was just greasy rice with bits of carrot -- again no spices. The meat in my portion was tender and tasty. Nevertheless we felt ready for another meal afterwards, having eaten so little.
The Eastern sweets listed on the menu were, surprise, surprise, "off," and all the waiter could offer us for dessert was chocolate, which we declined.
When I walked past the restaurant a few days before, I was attracted to it by the lively Central Asian music being performed in national costume. Such a service was not forthcoming on the night I ate there. It would have cost 15,000 roubles ($4) per person.
There is a dance floor at the far end of the restaurant with a cloth backdrop which has intriguingly-shaped windows painted on it. It resembled the entrance to a harem, the more so because a number of women disappeared behind it during our meal.
For some reason no one in the restaurant felt like dancing to the Russian pop music provided on cassette. When the lone woman finished eating she left with the policemen but without paying her bill. A sensible choice.