Casablanca Cuisine

Last time, I showed one of the restaurants we visited in Casablanca, La Sqala. We never had a bad meal in Casablanca, even when it was take-out sandwiches from a tiny shop–there are many of these, sometimes two or three in a row. They have a couple of tables inside, a glass-front counter on the street displaying gorgeous kebabs and sausages, and an open kitchen just behind. Like a tiny diner, Casablanca-style.

The day Morocco played in the World Cup, some friends advised us to take it easy at our AirBnB by the end of the match, because a win would have crazy celebrations in the street, best appreciated from five floors above rather than in the midst of. Although I have to say, at least in Morocco you don’t have to deal with belligerent drunks.

We wanted to explore the Gauthier quarter, which was a bit more chic and modern than Derb Omar, where we were staying. And my kid and I both had found good comments about the Mood Café, so off we went.

l’Etoile Centrale

Uncharacteristically, we didn’t take photos. It was international modern, the kind of place that could be in Paris or New York or Sydney. The food was excellent but also international modern. The Carnivore had a steak (a steak is a steak is a steak) and the kid and I had tartines, one with salmon the other with chicken. Very nice, with fresh ingredients, but what you would find at a good upscale café anywhere.

On the one hand, I think it’s great that people have choices for eating, and that they aren’t stuck with the same local specialties everywhere they look. Our friends informed us that Casablanca residents don’t eat Moroccan food when they go out–they eat that at home, and they have very high standards. So when they go out, they want something different–Chinese, Lebanese, French, Italian, international modern healthy.

A Spanish restaurant, if you couldn’t guess.

In fact, the most sublime meal we had was at our friends’ home. OMG. We didn’t take photos of that either. Briouats, a big meze of cooked but not hot vegetable dishes, then a tajine that made me want to cry tears of joy.

Back to the Mood Café. It was nearly empty when we arrived. We ordered and watched it fill and fill and fill. Somehow I managed to sit on a banquette right under a big screen TV showing the match against Portugal. That meant EVERYBODY was facing me but, happily paying not one iota of attention because they were all riveted to the screen above my head. And I had the best deal–I got to watch the spectators.

Chicken pastilla at l’Etoile Centrale. I am going to make this!

A table just behind the Carnivore added more and more people. A mixed crowd in almost every way–they were all Moroccans but split about 50-50 men and women; the ages seemed to range from early 20s to late 40s; some of the women–the older ones–wore Western clothes and had their hair loose, while some others–including the youngest in the group–covered their hair. The youngest woman wore a tightly pinned headscarf in maroon polyester that matched her loose pants; she had a loose white tunic with that and Converse All Stars. Her face was as round as her oversized, gold rimmed glasses, and, unlike the other women, she didn’t have a speck of makeup. She was the most enthusiastic of the group. She drew her legs up, sitting Indian-style on the chair, sometimes hugging her knees as she stared at the TV, looking as if she was going to burst into tears (Morocco didn’t play well).

Vegetable tajine

Mechoui lamb

We watched everybody react as one, heaving with excitement, jumping up, grabbing each other’s arms so tightly their fingers turned white, their hopeful faces so bright they could compete with the sun, and then…the disappointment as the goal wasn’t scored. Their faces fell. Several men held their heads in their hands.

As it turned out, Morocco lost and there were no celebrations at all.

Live music at Zayna.

We also ate at a good restaurant in the Habbous neighborhood. Habbous is a new medina, built in the 1920s, much calmer than the old medina. We were approached by an old woman who was recruiting people for the Zayna restaurant, which happened to be the one we wanted. Delicious food! No website….

Chicken tajine. It was very sweet. I love sweet with savory.

Mixed grill chez Zayna.

Then we went around the corner to Bennis Habous, a bakery, where you buy goodies by weight. Just point, and they’ll put them into a box for you to take away.Another restaurant was l’Etoile Centrale, directly across from the Central Market. Very pretty inside, but no match for Zayna or home cooking.

The New York Times had an article last week about Rick’s Café in Casablanca.

So much food. So little time.

 

Summer Truffles

One of the saving graces of winter is tuber melanosporum: the black truffles that perfume dishes from December to February.

There’s another variety, called tuber aestivum, or the summer truffle, which is whiter and has a more subtle taste.

Philippe Barrière

A couple of years ago, Philippe Barrière opened his Atélier de la Truffe on rue Trivalle, the street just below la Cité. He long was the person who inspected each and every truffle sold at the markets in Aude. As I mentioned before, the truffle trade has long been an under-the-table affair, with unknowledgeable buyers sometimes paying fortunes for nothing more than rocks. In Aude, by contrast, all the truffles sold at the markets are inspected.

A few tables inside, as well as seats at the bar. More tables outside in front and back. A bounty of good wines.

So M. Barrière knows his stuff, and we and a bunch of our friends decided to spend a summer evening enjoying his expertise.

A tip from the master: a sprinkle of salt heightens the truffle flavor. It worked! Gruissan is not far from here, on the Mediterranean, and has sea salt production.

Truffles are costly, so we limited ourselves to having an apéritif chez Barrière and then moving to a main course in the Bastide. First, we went for foie gras with truffles on toast.

There’s foie gras under each row. He wasn’t stingy with the truffles!

I am not a foie gras fan, but I must admit it was beyond succulent. When the slates were set on the table, the scent of truffle from the generous portions was intoxicating.

We had a lovely bottle from Borie de Maurel in la Livinière part of Minervois. If you ever see a wine from la Livinière, you can bet it is good.

Then we had truffled chèvre, again delicious, though the foie gras was better. It’s like poor Aly Raisman. She is an amazing gymnast, better than everybody at the Olympics….except for Simone Biles, who got the gold. (Raisman won silver.) The chèvre was amazing…except that the foie gras was even more amazing.

Here’s a quick translation of the menu (truffled plates):

Smashed summer truffle on toast

Shirred eggs with summer truffle

Potatoes with summer truffle

Goat cheese with summer truffle

Beef carpaccio with summer truffle

Foie gras and summer truffle (notice the “and”–it means they’re sliced on top and not grated and mixed in like the others)

Fish carpaccio (he said it was tuna), with foie gras, summer truffle

Homemade summer truffle ice cream

Do you see what the bread basket is made of?

We’ll be back….

Truffle tools: a scraper for €60; €70 if it folds.

 

 

Port de Trèbes

Continuing our staycation, we decided to eat out at the best place for fish in the region: La Poissonnerie Moderne de Trèbes.

Trèbes is a pleasant town nestled up against the east side of Carcassonne. Though it’s 70 kms from the coast, it’s a port … on the Canal du Midi.

The fish, however, comes from the sea. The Belgian of the household knows his moules-frites, and gives the highest honors to Martine of la Poissonnerie Moderne. It’s a fish shop that has a restaurant only in the summer, with tables facing the port.

It isn’t alone: neighbors are les Vignes de Bacchus and a very good pizzeria, Trattoria Napoli.

Meanwhile, tables on the boats faced the restaurant scene.

A constant stream of people drifted by, adding to the holiday atmosphere.

French hits from the ’80s

A guy on a recumbent bike seemed outraged by the pedestrians. He didn’t make eye contact with anybody, just huffing and glaring at some point far ahead when the throng hindered his progress. I think he needed a glass of wine.

The moules-frites were deemed delicious. We also had a starter of pickled seafood, then salmon and tuna. Five stars.

To look like a pro mussels eater, use an empty shell as tweezers to pull out the mussel. 

Trèbes was holding its Marché Nocturne at the end of the port, so we meandered that way in search of dessert.

The market was small, mostly wine tastings, local food specialties, handmade jewelry and brightly colored plastic toys. No dessert. We were too full anyway.

If it seems as if there’s always some event going on, that’s because there IS always some event going on. More to come!

 

 

 

 

 

Calçots

Few things are easier on the grill than onions.

You can just throw them on, without doing anything. No cleaning. No preparation. Take onions, place on hot grill, wait. Then you cut them in half and scoop out the caramelized insides. We discovered this many years ago at Le Moulin restaurant in Trèbes, near Carcassonne, realized the sheer brilliance of its simplicity and have been employing it since.

Just south of the border, the Catalanes also do onions, namely spring onions called calçots, that are like giant scallions. The calçot capital, Valls, Spain, even has a Gran Fiesta de la Calçotada. But you don’t have to go to Spain to get in on the goodness of grilled onions. You can do it at home.

Any old green onions will do. You can wash off the dirt, but it isn’t a must–that part gets peeled off later anyway. Put the onions on a hot grill.

When they’re done, wrap them in newspaper, which keeps them hot until they’re eaten, and the steam helps the outer layer peel away from the caramelized inside. Put the peelings in the newspaper for easy cleanup.

 

Dip your peeled calçot in romesco sauce (make the sauce ahead or else your calçots will be cold!). Tilt your head back and lower it in into your mouth like a sword swallower. Don’t forget to chew, though.

While the grill is still warm, roast some peppers for your next round of romesco sauce. Trust me, you’ll want more.

There are lots of recipes for romesco, which could be considered a Spanish red pepper version of pesto. I wouldn’t sweat the details too much. More/less pepper? More/fewer almonds? More/less garlic? It’s all good.

3-4 red peppers (you could use already-roasted ones from a jar)

1/2 cup almonds (a handful, or two!). Slivered, whole, whatever, as long as there’s no skin.

1-2 cloves of garlic (or 3-4 if you want!)

1-2 tablespoons tomato concentrate (one of those tiny cans)

1/4-1/2 cup olive oil

A hit of Jerez (sherry) vinegar

piment d’Espelette or cayenne, if you want a kick

Cut and clean the peppers. Roast. Put them in a paper or plastic bag (I prefer paper, but I’ve seen both ways) to make them easier to cool, which you do once they’re cool.

Toast the almonds in a skillet. No need for oil. Keep an eye on them that they don’t burn.

Throw everything into a blender or food processor and purée.

I had two lonely sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil, and added them, using the olive oil from the jar. Why not?

Should you have leftover romesco, it won’t be around for long. You can use it on pasta, on bread, on potatoes, as a vegetable dip, on meat, on fish. It’s so yummy.

Hôtel d’Alibert

We did something highly unusual and went out to eat. We figured we should try someplace new, at least new to us. Many of our friends have raved about the Hôtel d’Alibert in Caunes-Minervois, so we headed there.

Actually, we were on our way to a different spot. For a small village, Caunes has several good restaurants. But there was a concert and it didn’t seem to be one we would appreciate. So we hoofed it up the hill to the hotel.

The hotel is across the square from the mairie, or town hall, in a beautiful Renaissance home. The hotel has only eight rooms (with garage! do Street View or Google Earth of Caunes and you will see why this is important).

I spy the local Caunes marble–the counter on the left in the foreground.

On a balmy June evening, dining was in the courtyard. Classical music segued into Carlos Jobim and Stan Getz. Very, very pleasant. Much better than the concert.

The restaurant offers a fixed-price menu for €29, comprising a starter, main course and dessert.

For starters, my husband had foie gras; I had asparagus with vinaigrette. Then he chose the pintade (kind of chicken), cooked with olives, and served with a large dish of potatoes, creamed spinach, and zucchini in tomato sauce. I had mushroom lasagne, served with a green salad.

Novice blogger–I ate first and photographed after. It was GOOD.

He foolishly skipped dessert and had cheese. I had the dark chocolate cake, which was more like chocolate mousse on a layer of soft fudge (bad blogger: I didn’t take a picture but snarfed the whole thing down immediately).

Everything was very good. And the ambience was just right. The owner, Frédéric Guiraud, bantered easily in English with the out-of-towners.

Two thumbs up!