Casablanca

My husband retired this spring, and after throwing a party for 150 colleagues, friends, and relatives, we’re planning to go to Morocco this fall. He went to Morocco once, more than thirty years ago, after a month of ceaseless rain drowned an Irish camping-bike trip, finally driving him south to sunny Spain and then across the Straits of Gibraltar to North Africa. He and his companion skirted the foothills of the Atlas Mountains near Fes and biked west to Meknes, Casablanca, and then Rabat before circling back on a train north to Tangier and the boat to Spain. His memories are sparse–empty roads, sheep, decaying ruins buried in sand, indecipherable street signs, high mountains, topless foreign bathers, friendly locals. He doesn’t remember any food except the tomatoes thrown at them early on, perhaps a reaction to their culturally inappropriate bike shorts.

So the new Casablanca, in Ypsi’s former Blue Wolf Grill on Washtenaw, has been a great warmup for our trip–and makes a fine culinary adventure even if you aren’t off to the casbah. Though the arched windows betray the building’s Taco Bell origins, hints of North Africa now grace the interior decor. And happily, Casablanca’s Moroccan dishes bear no resemblance to fast food.

Strategically situated on the northern tip of Africa and almost touching Europe at the western end of the Mediterranean Sea, Morocco was colonized by Romans, Arabs, the French, and the Spanish. These foreign influences have mingled with indigenous Berber traditions to produce an exciting cuisine, one built on the liberal use of sweet and savory spices and herbs, nuts and dried fruits, and salty olives and preserved lemons. Named after the conical clay pot they’re cooked in, tagines–slowly cooked meat and vegetable stews served with couscous or freshly baked breads of barley or semolina–are a hallmark, along with myriad hot and cold salads. Casablanca’s menu features many such Moroccan standards alongside more familiar Middle Eastern ones, and each time we visited, staff and patrons–Moroccan and otherwise–spoke enthusiastically about the food.

We did too after our first dinner. Accompanied by a friend, we arrived at the restaurant famished and ordered liberally. Warm shakshouka, best known as an egg dish but here a roasted pepper and tomato spread heavy with cumin, was heavenly on bits of fresh grainy bread; a cold eggplant and tomato zalook was less interesting. Casablanca’s small, beautifully made bistilla–a thick, dense phyllo pie of shredded saffron chicken accented with orange flower water and honeyed almonds, dusted with powdered sugar and cinnamon–seemed an ideal rendering of this national dish, though its blending of sweet and savory may be disconcerting for some.

Soup or salad accompany entrees, and we chose the former. Out came vegetarian harira, a mix of lentils, chickpeas, and vermicelli in a broth completely devoid of salt. Once salted, though, the soup became delightfully savory.

Sweet lamb tagine was an impressively sized, succulently braised shank flavored with cinnamon and garnished with prunes and chunks of sweet potato, all resting on a generous heap of couscous. The fish tagine–salmon cooked with tomato, lemon, and cayenne–was also pleasant, if less exciting than the lamb. In neither dish was the underlying couscous an afterthought; in each the grains were carefully flavored to complement the dish and were as delicious as the stew.

Another night I ordered the mhammar, a whole roast chicken topped with a gingery onion sauce on a bed of rice, with a fresh, crispy green salad to start. For $18.99, it provided us two or three tasty meals. My husband’s kafta (meatball) tagine in a richly seasoned tomato sauce also proved a hit, as did our side of warm spiced carrots streaked with a piquant herby paste. Though laced with house dressing and feta cheese, Casablanca French fries were a disappointment, standard frozen sticks rather than the promised fresh-cut potatoes. Instead, we mopped up our sauces with pieces of harsha, thick flat rounds of pan-fried bread.

A week later, after sitting a bit too long in the garden with a friend over cocktails, we decided to forgo making dinner and ordered takeout from Casablanca. Again, the bountiful portions supplied us a dinner with generous leftovers. The house hummus, ordered spicy, was very smooth and creamy, but lost the battle to the warm Moroccan version topped with big hunks of gingery sauteed vegetables. Foule, an oily, rich stew of mashed fava beans, heavily doused with tahini, proved best eaten in small doses. Seffa mdfounda, shredded chicken flavored with honey and herbs, mixed with vermicelli and garnished with a copious layer of toasted almonds, cinnamon, and sugar, was similar to the bistilla minus the crispy layers of pastry. Our friend couldn’t stop eating it, absent-mindedly spooning up mouthfuls from the container long after he had finished his meal.

Chicken tagine with olives seemed to be the roasted chicken renamed, the bird cooked separately from the sauce rather than in it, as would be customary for a stew. And the Casablanca half chicken, described as marinated in lemon juice, herbs, and garlic, arrived as a grilled boneless chicken breast, tasting very much like Middle Eastern chicken shawarma with the pure white garlic sauce on the side–appetizing if inaccurately described.

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Feeling I should try a couple of the kitchen’s lighter dishes, I went back for some take-out sandwiches. Initially I was annoyed to discover that, once again, the kitchen was out of its house-made harissa, a staple spicy chili paste enlivened with caraway and cumin. They touted their charmoula as a viable alternative, and though initially skeptical–versions I had previously encountered were more vinaigrette than pesto–I was converted on tasting Casablanca’s. Intensely garlicky, with plenty of cilantro and cumin and enough chili to wake you up, the chermoula was fabulous, and I ate it as a spread with the warm Moroccan bread that came with it. It was equally delicious in the scrambled egg and French fry sandwich–a real treat. The other two sandwiches–an exceptionally moist, fresh-tasting falafel and a merguez (lamb-beef sausage) wrap–also couldn’t be beat.

I can’t imagine pedaling through Morocco, but I can imagine crossing the country by bus and trekking the smaller paths, revisiting the sites my husband biked through but also traveling further south to Marrakesh and right into the Atlas Mountains. I also hope to explore Moroccan food–as cooked and eaten, of course, rather than tossed at passing cyclists. After the sampling provided by Casablanca, I’ve joined the chorus singing the praises of this intriguing, vibrant cuisine.

casablancaypsilanti.com

Mon.-Sat. 11 a.m.-10 p.m., Sun. noon-7 p.m.

Appetizers $4.25-$15.99, soups and salads $2.99-$7.99, sandwiches $3.49-$5.49, entrees $11.99-$18.99

Wheelchair friendly.