Food and Belly Dancers

The other night the Boyfriend and I decided to finally try the little Moroccan place in his neighborhood. We had seen it before and discussed going there, but for some reason we never made it through the front door. Perhaps it was because the pub is only one door down and the call of pints and half priced wings has been too hard to resist in the past. Whatever the case, I'm glad that on Saturday we managed to find ourselves in "Taste of Morocco".

From the exterior, I always had the impression the place might be a little shady. That is simply not the case- the dimly lit dining area is both clean and inviting. There is a television on one wall which is turned to the English Al Jazheera- something I thought was a nice touch. Having never seen a single soul entering or leaving the establishment, we were surprised to find the place packed. There were a few empty tables, though, and we were kindly directed to one of them and given extensive menus for perusal.

Having never experienced Moroccan food beyond my own clumsy attempts at preparation, I was keen to discuss the night's options with the Boyfriend. Unfortunately, that was when the Belly Dancer arrived in the center of the floor for what I think is her hourly show. The woman was a very able belly dancer, with the perfect body for the style and a gorgeous traditional costume. If I'm going to say anything bad about the evening though, it has to be this: for the dancer's performance they turn the music so loud that it is impossible to pay attention to much else, let alone conduct a conversation with your table mate. That would have been endurable for one or two songs, but the performance seemed to last forever. I would estimate that about fifteen minutes went by before she finally swept off the floor and normal restaurant chatter volume resumed.

Once the ringing in our ears stopped we were able to get back to the really important stuff: the food. Pricing made it clear that the best option was one of the "feasts" the restaurant offers; five course meals for two at about $40. Our first course was a trio of salads; there was a cucumber salad, a carrot salad and a small, dark, squishy-yet-tasty salad which we could not recall the ingredients of.

Soup followed quickly after the salads with a very satisfying lentil soup for me and a harissa that the Boyfriend said was not spicy at all, although I can not attest to the veracity of this statement because I was too scared to sample it myself. The soup was served with a bowl of delicious bread, which was unfortunately taken away too soon. Next came the basilla. The basilla deserves its own paragraph...

I remember trying to make my own basilla about five years ago. It failed terribly, although the idea of the chicken and spice concoction wrapped up in philo dough has always remained intriguing. The basilla itself as served by "Taste of Morocco" is about the size of a hockey puck and liberally sprinkled with confectioner's sugar. After a single bite I could not speak for almost a full minute. To put it quite simply, this was the best thing I had ever tasted. I'll not even try to expound upon the notion; if there is a Moroccan restaurant anywhere near you go right now and may your basilla be as delicious as what I tasted on Saturday night.

Next came the tagine course. I had chicken with almonds and raisins, which was tasty if a bit dry, while the Boyfriend had lamb cooked with root vegetables, which was frankly more satisfying than my chicken dish. Next came the famous Moroccan mint tea, served with a flourish out of a tiny silver tea pot into ornate blue glasses. The dessert course consisted of a well thought out plate of mini-pastries including a very good sticky sweet baklava, but disappointingly missing the famous almond cookies of Morocco. Finally the fruit course arrived. By that point we were both so full that I hardly minded to find that the finale was no more than a lackluster apple, a bruised banana, and an orange served on a plate with a knife.

So there you have it. My first real food review for this food review blog. Now, go run and find yourself a basilla- you don't know what you are missing.