Find fine food in moroccan medina
I was done with tagine. I went to Morocco looking forward to bushels of it, but after three weeks of tagine-dominated lunches and dinners I had had my fill. Pastilla, a phyllo-wrapped savoury tart, was another oftrecurring act.
In cities like Marrakesh, Tangier, Fez and Essaouria, we sought restaurants with more to offer (although I couldn’t bring myself to order a camel burger after one of these majestic beasts transported me across Sahara sand dunes). The most ambitious dining experience I tried was Nur Restaurant in Fez, deep in the world’s largest medina.
It was shocking to step from the medina’s chaotic and ancient labyrinth into a gleaming, modern room with marble, a posh water feature, towering contemporary paintings and nods to the Byzantine era.
Chef Najat Kaanache operates it with her life and business partner Charles Accivatti, a native of Detroit. Nur means light, and he certainly lights up the dining room, visiting each table and connecting, mostly in English as 100 per cent of guests are tourists. He has tried luring locals, but this is a very expensive restaurant by Moroccan standards, and Moroccans love to eat at home.
Kaanache did stages at El Bulli, Noma, Alinea, French Laundry and Per Se, whose chefs are modernist gods. Not surprisingly, Nur takes an avant-garde approach to Moroccan cuisine, and is considered one of the best restaurants in the country. Dishes change daily, and you sign up for a 10-course meal with an option of wine pairings. The food portion was US$75 per person.
While Accivatti was more than welcoming and eager to describe what was before us, there was no menu to describe the dishes and that was disappointing, especially as other staff did not speak English, and were hesitant and unsure. One waiter seemed to be channelling Miguel from Fawlty Towers in his inept eagerness.
For the most part, it was left to us to decipher what we were eating. The first course, a spoon of vegetable puree and a salad atop meringue, was a deconstruction of vegetable tagine with the meringue chip piped into a spiral maze design.
Next, a lacy, dried orange peel over a shrimp slaw and macerated fruit. Then, a black teasmoked cube of salmon and a ravioli that sat atop piped spirals of beet and guacamole sauces.
Accivatti was tableside when the chicken with mole sauce arrived. I said it reminded me of the signature mole course at Pujo in Mexico City (a world’s top-20 restaurant).
He explained that the dish was in fact a tribute to the Pujo chef, Kaanache’s friend, who meant to be at Nur’s opening party but couldn’t make it. The dish will stay on the menu until he finally visits Nur. It was a beautiful mole with no mistaking the notes of dark chocolate. The next two courses were fish dishes atop smears of sauce; both featured fresh local products. They were followed by a delicious nugget of beef tenderloin with a lovely harissa sauce.
A white wine and beet granite palate cleanser came shaped as a rose. Dessert was like war on a plate: peaches, yogurt, something like a too-dense Nanaimo bar with carob and peanut butter. An inelegant mash-up. For a final course, a box with drawers containing some Moroccan cookies. (And boy, do Moroccans know how to enchant with cookies. Gazelle horns, which really looked the part, were my favourite.)
Wine pairings ranged from US$22 to $60, depending on two or three glasses and whether they were regular or reserve wines, all Moroccan.
I loved some of the dishes, like the deconstructed tagine, the salmon, chicken and beef dishes; the local fresh ingredients add life. Dishes were ambitious and sophisticated, but didn’t have the flawless and bright esthetic of the masters under which Kaanache apprenticed.
But Kaanache and Accivatti are on a roll. They also run a Mexican fast-food spot in the Fez medina called Nacho Mama ( because they miss Mexican food). And they’re planning on opening an Italian eatery next. Meanwhile, they operate CUS Moroccan Grill in Mexico City.
And don’t believe me for a minute when I say I’m done with tagine. I’m already missing Moroccan flavours and am nostalgic for Restaurant Naima, a hole-in-the wall in Marrakech where “mom” made couscous by hand (so light and fluffed!) and served a big-boned tagine over it. Her sons helped run the joint.
And I’m fondly remembering a place in Tangier, Saveur de Poisson, where there’s no menu, but out of the kitchen comes a parade of snacks and fish-centred dishes. “No!” the waiter responded when we asked for l’addition as we couldn’t eat another bite. He trotted off and brought us a big bowl of beautiful stewed figs and a wooden spoon and basket as gifts.
Here in Vancouver, I know I can get some lovely Moroccan food at Moltaqa, which opened earlier this year and I’ll be doing that soon enough.