Sunday, August 14

Moroccan Bucket List

“How lovely to be in a city without a local drunk yelling malicious remarks wrapped up in a French accent,” has been a thought that is playing itself around my head since I’ve been here. The only time one can even see the word beer here is when it is written into the phrase; Non-alcoholic Beer, found only on the menus of high class restaurants, aka, Elite Cafe. It is in these occasions that one chooses a Pineapple, Citron and Mint Cocktail, sans l’alcool, bien sur.

There has been a Moroccan Food Bucket List that may have been created a few months ago. And there has been a pen that has taken rather fervently to that fine piece of well-researched paper. It started with Lamb Tagine and was closely followed by Fresh Dates, which we crossed off without lingering. And then my pen made three new lines this evening. So what I am saying is that it was always going to be a pretty outrageous night. And so we sat here and regarded for close to three hours:

Over looking donkeys pulling tourists; dark men with whitened stubble lying in carts; evening food markets selling Moroccan salads of minced tomato and red onion; a casual young man with a lead that tied to a monkey in a green singlet; women walking in black robes holding syringes filled with henna; and we sat there listening, not so pleasantly, to the music played by men on silk carpets charming their slothful snakes.

After dinner, my pen drew through Tagine with Prunes and Almonds.

And dangling nicely underneath that was Lamb Kefta.

I’ve still to decipher the triumph or defeat in this last line ruled; Sweet Moroccan Patisseries. However I know it’s not fair, I live in Paris.

The triumph lies in the comparison of this outrageous evening with last night’s meal; which was down from this terrace, right out amongst the well walked on stone tablets, under those white lights, passed the wee monkey on his lead, at the beckoning of the boys biding for your choice of dinner and nicely packed in to the rows of tables at the evening food markets.

If you come here, to this place of world-renown tagines and where everything has been well paid for when it comes to attention to detail, do not choose what we chose to devour at these hectic markets of restaurants on carts.

However, from the bottom of my heart I would recommend to you the meat or chicken skewers, as they were the matters of order envy towards the people pushed up beside us.

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