Restaurant Review
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The Cuisine of Crossroads
By Dyani Makous
South Street in Philadelphia on a Saturday night typically consists of hipsters chowing down on oversized pizza slices from Lorenzo’s, bouncers scattered stoically throughout the street corners, the occasional blast of hip-hop and heavy-metal escaping from doors to bars and clubs, and of course, several intoxicated people stumbling around with lobotomized expressions. But just off of South Street, there hides an experience of an entirely different sort: Marrakesh, on 517 S. Leithgow Street.
I take a cab and get dropped off at the corner of 5th and South. Leithgow is not difficult to find, sandwiched between 4th and 5th Streets, just north of South. Although less than a block from the bustling enclave, we can already feel the quiet vacancy of Lombard Street seeping in our direction as we walk away from South Street, when we stumble upon a bright turquoise wall under a green and gold Arabic awning. The unmarked mahogany door has an almost impervious lure, and we ring the bell with cautious, yet euphoric skepticism.
A man dressed in traditional Moroccan garb—a black button-down vest over a white long-sleeved shirt, black pants and an authentic red Fez hat—answers the door, and greets us with a friendly smile. We pass through the first floor, noticing that, due to the low, couch-like, communal seating, the entire area has the social atmosphere of an intimate get-together. It seems like a unique dining experience, although, one that is dependent on your social mood. We are more in the mood for a quiet night, which the host informs us is ‘no problem.’ He leads us to the second floor, which is relatively vacant, a shocking, yet pleasant transition from the first-floor social scene.
We sit down on low couches lined with floral and gold-traced pillows. Several pillars link the floor and ceiling, giving the room the feel of a palace. The room is dominated by red, turquoise, gold, and brown. The Moorish influence is apparent in the key-shaped doorways, while traces of Middle-Eastern influence lie within the delicately designed rugs hung from the walls and ceilings.
Morocco has several cultural, geographical, and historical influences, all of which, of course, are reflected in its versatile cuisine: Arab, African, Iberian, Jewish, Middle Eastern, and Moorish—to name a few. However, despite the wide range of possibilities in Moroccan cuisine, Marrakesh does not present guests with a food menu, or many choices.
The only menu we are presented with is the wine menu, which contains a wide variety of wines, mostly French. When asked about this, our waiter simply responds: “well, we were owned by the French for about three hundred years.” Another influence to add to list, I think, as we opt for the house wine, a red Burgundy that goes for $12 a carafe. The wine is strong and robust, with a medium-to light body and a Tempranillo-like quality. We are assured that it will go with the strong flavor of our food.
After confirming that we are not vegetarians and have no significant allergies, we are presented with two choices: Chicken or Spicy Chicken, and Beef or Lamb. We opt for the Spicy Chicken and the Lamb, and we relax, knowing that our decision-making is finished for the rest of the night.
The waiter approaches us, lays towels on our laps, takes our hands, and pours water on them from an old-fashioned tea pot that looks somewhat like a genie lamp from Aladdin. We rub our hands clean and dry them on our laps.
Shortly after this ritual, the first of our seven courses arrives. It is a Three Salad Platter, with a colorful array of Oasis Carrots with Coriander; Cucumbers and Bell Peppers in Mediterranean Seasoning; and Cooked Eggplant in Tomato Sauce, with, of course, pita on the side as an edible utensil. The cucumbers and peppers are the crunchiest of the three, with a hint of garlic and vinegar. The carrots, although not as raw, are not fully cooked, so they retain a bit of their crunch, adding a refreshing aspect to their spicy, garlicky zing. The eggplant is warm and pureed, contributing a smooth, spicy, melt-in-your-mouth aspect to the trio. Dipped, combined, and wrapped in warm pita, the salad’s texture and flavor is versatile and voluptuous.
The second course, B’Stella, has us confused about whether or not we are indulging in an appetizer or dessert. Although the filling is made of chicken, nuts, almonds, eggs, parsley, and onions, the outside is baked in flaky filo dough and topped with confectioners’ sugar and cinnamon. Despite the categorical and consecutive confusion, our palates are able to transcend cultural boundaries into the inevitable satisfaction of unexpected sweetness.
Although it is already passed the restaurant’s closing time and we are just getting started, there is not the slightest indication that we are being rushed. The laid-back attitude of the staff is relaxed, without being negligent, as the vibrant Arabic music flows throughout the colorfully decorated space, as well as our tongues and taste buds.
The third course is the first main course, a Spicy Chicken with Cumin Sauce. It comes as bare wings, with thighs attached, swimming in thick gravy and garnished with orange slices and parsley. The chicken is melt-in-your-mouth tender with traces of ginger and saffron. Depending on where and how much you immerse your chicken in the sauce, the degree of spiciness varies, although the flavor lingers throughout. My date decides on full-immersion and is deliberately overwhelmed by the spicy intensity, while I choose to graze the chicken over the sauce and am fulfilled by a milder zing.
Next comes the Tajine of Lamb with Almonds and Honey—a sweet follow-up to the spiciness. Moroccan lamb is typically cooked so long that it is tender enough to be pulled apart with the fingers, and this case is no exception. The almonds add a nice, crunchy texture and the warm tomato base soaks in, to give it the full feel of a hearty entree.
As we indulge and feel the satiation creep up, we are reminded of the social atmosphere as we catch a glimpse of the party in the background, having escalated to the second floor. Sparklers crackle over a cupcake held by the jovial waiters as they sing “Happy Birthday” to an enthusiastic group.
After confirming we are finished with the lamb, despite seeing our hands resting on our swelling stomachs, our servers bring out another dish. It is a Middle-Eastern staple that has already been adapted by the American culture: Couscous. Cooked stew-style with potatoes and carrots, and blended with chickpeas, raisins, and chicken, it has a brown-sugar sweetness, gradually leading us to the dessert aspect of the meal.
The sixth course, a fruit basket, arrives with green grapes, oranges, two peeled bananas, strawberries and two apples, and is served on ice, which makes each bite cool and refreshing. After indulging in such an eloquent meal, it is all I need to feel like Arabian royalty.
Last, but not least, the dessert arrives. Mint tea, one of the most culturally and socially principal drinks of Morocco, is served in small, clear glasses, and poured by our waiter from a standing height. This type of pour enhances the taste of the tea and adds bubbles to it, the way Moroccans traditionally prefer. In addition, the presentation is somewhat dramatic, adding an essentially climactic effect to the final course.
Along with the tea, the final course includes Baklava, cut into two small triangles, with the strong, yet smooth, taste of pistachio. It is crunchy, flaky, fruity, chewy, and spicy, and followed by the sweet, yet invigorating mint tea, has the final refreshing touch on an almost overly-filling, but extremely fulfilling meal.
While we do not want to ruin the vibe by asking the cost of this exquisite and abundant experience, it is shockingly relieving to discover that the price is very affordable at less than fifty dollars per person, including wine, drink, tax and tip. For seven courses, we certainly cannot complain.
If there is one piece of advice I can offer it is this: come hungry and pace yourself. It’s a lot of food, and it would be a shame to waste it on a full stomach.
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