Though there a number of good Moroccan eateries in the Bay Area, no
place has quite the authentic flair of old world Morocco as El
Mansour.
My dining experiences in Morocco closely resemble this unexpected haven.
I’ve enjoyed every visit to Mansour, but my friend’s birthday,
with seven of us, made for a most festive Saturday night feast.
Though you have to drive way the hell out in the Richmond to a drab
block of Clement (next door to the Japanese Oyaji restaurant), parking
is easy and the colorful door hints at intriguing possibilities within.
And there are! As soon as you step through the door, you’re whisked
away into an Arabian Nights-esque room draped with billowy materials
that give the ceiling a tent-like effect. You are then seated on low
couches strewn with lush pillows, the room buzzing with opulent color
and low level Middle Eastern music.
Thankfully, it’s not all style without substance. The service
is polite (servers bringing bread and water) or charming (our waitress)
by turns. Our waitress was sweetest woman, sharing stories of waning
traditions in Morocco due to its Westernization (e.g. utensils being
used rather than eating with hands as has long been the custom), and
laughing jovially as we discussed belly dancing (its not for her though
she admires the art of it!)
The belly dancer (who comes out at 7pm) provided amusement
as we watched many men, including in our own party, dance (or attempt
to) as she led them to the floor. It felt like being at a party in someone’s
home: intimate, celebratory, playful.
But the most important for me is always: the food. There are only two
options: a $28.75 multi-course meal or slightly more inclusive $30.75
version that is basically the same but adds seafood options to the entrée
list and pairs couscous with all entrees. Though it sounds pricey, it
is not for what you get. You start with a group hand washing (the second
washing includes a splash of rose water), receive a towel, since you
WILL be eating with your hands – this place holds firmly to Moroccan
tradition – then sip a savory Harira (Spicy
Lentil) Soup. You move
on to a platter of delectable dips laid across lettuce and deemed a salad.
An unlimited supply of bread is offered to sop up the food.
Then comes my most favorite Moroccan dish: Bastilla (that’s what
I normally see it referred to at other Moroccan places– here it’s
called “Bastela du Chef”): spiced, shredded chicken and almonds
in a phyllo pastry, dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar (other Moroccan
restaurants do vegetarian bastillas but I have not seen that option here).
I get weak in the knees for the right sweet/savory combo. This is one
of my favorites… so addictive I could eat just this and leave
happy.
At this point, I am full and can barely move on. This is the one big
down side: no option to order a smaller-portioned course or share the
prix fixes. I could manage only a few bites of my entrée: a perfectly
tender, juicy chicken over fluffy couscous enhanced by raisins and grilled
onions.
My friend ordered the Lamb with
Honey and Almonds was sweet, exquisite,
with that wild taste of lamb...a highlight on the entree menu.
Vegetarian options exist as either kebobs or grilled vegetables over
couscous. Everyone around our table was pleased with their varying
main courses.
We could barely stuff down dessert but somehow managed. We had one bite-sized
banana fritter each, called King Hassan, drizzled in honey, and we shared
Keneffa, a paper thin phyllo pastry layered with a light layer of cream
and almonds.
As we nibble on dessert, our server brings sweet Moroccan
Mint Tea,
pouring it from a couple feet above the table without spilling a drop
outside the tiny gold-rimmed cups. It’s the perfect finish… three
hours later. We were bloated, but happily so, on this feast to remember.
I concurred with Oscar Wilde when he said: “After a good dinner
one can forgive anybody, even one's own relatives."
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