Hassan, or Lahcen as he is correctly called, said he would either come and collect us from our apartment or send someone to get us. In the end it was his electrician, working at our end of Casablanca, who fetched us to the far western reaches of the city where Hassan and Amel have taken residence since their departure from Glasgow’s Cafe Salma.
Hassan was seeing out his last customers of the day at his current business – a Gym, a far cry from the success that was one of Glasgow’s Finest Curry Houses. Marg went into the apartment to accompany Amel whilst Hassan took me round his work premises.
Being in a residential area he knows a Restaurant would not work at this locus, no passing trade. The well-equipped Gym was on three levels, with a dance-floor in the basement where Belly Dancing is on offer. Hassan holds the fort for three days a week with Amel doing three also – The Ladies’ Days.
Upstairs in the apartment, Amel was putting the finishing touches to the Fayre. I managed to take a photo in the kitchen of the final stages of the Brochette which would be Chicken Kebab and Seekh Kebab. Marg was getting to know Amel’s First Born who we only knew as a baby in Glasgow. Daughter #2 had been farmed out for the evening so that Amel would have time to form her wonderful creations.
A Tagine was placed on the table – Fish. Hector had dropped enough hints last night about how much I miss the – Ravi Machi – I have not found a Fish Curry in Glasgow anywhere in the two years since since the end of Cafe Salma to satisfy.
We started with Soup. An Earthy Creation containing, well only Amel knows. The Spice level was gentle. Normally Hector would have a second bowl of such an Interesting Offering, but given the spread set before us… Hassan insisted we try a Honey-coated Sweet along with the Soup – to counteract the bitterness, another new experience.
The Brochette/Kebabs were next. With a half Moroccan-style Pitta Bread I did the Middle Eastern ritual of creating a pfilling it with some of the Salad and one each of the Kebabs. Who needs Falafel now? Again this was something new for Hector and Marg.
The Plain (Malabar?) Parathas stood out from all the Bread on the table. I had to congratulate Amel on the Quality of these. A Perfect Size when served by the plateful, these were so Fresh and just the correct level of Flakiness. Cut into rectangles was a Darker Bread – Stuffed Paratha – Keema Paratha – even. Excellent!. The Tagine stared, menacingly.
Hector has been cooking Moroccan-style for some eighteen months but has yet to try Fish. Here lay a mass of Fish shrouded in Vegetables and Spice. From the outset it was evident that there was more than the four of us would ever manage. Tagine can be so close to Curry, this was a classic example. The Spices and Herbs, the lack of a Soup
y Masala, even before trying it the Pedigree was there. The Flavours – Mmmmmm. There was Tangy Blast at one point. The Olives, had they been Black originally? I ate, I studied, this I shall try to replicate soon. Truly Wonderful Food.
Hassan cleared the plates from the table, some skills are never lost.
At my bidding the promised Fruit for Dessert was held back for some minutes. I had to let this Feast digest to do more justice to the Tagine. I surrender.
This was why I came to Casablanca.
After the array of Cool Fresh Fruit was Moroccan Tea. Poured from a height to create the bubbles this was far from the usual Earl Grey.
Good to his word, Hassan drove us all to the Plage/Beach for an evening stroll. Picking up his youngest en route we now had two little girls to amuse Marg. The Hotel where Hassan found Amel was shown to us. He went to look for a Moroccan Chef for his Glasgow Restaurant and found Amel. The rest is…
The promenade was well developed with Cafes and Swimming Pools along the eastern side of the promontory. Two world Famous Hamburger outlets were present. One, Hassan informed, is the busiest in Morocco, maybe Africa. It was open all night, the queue for the – Drive-past – was even significant. Then there was Morocco’s equivalent of Los Pollos Hermanos. This was like any resort, except… What could have been Bars, were closed. Nobody was drinking alcohol in view of the street. Forty eight hours since my last Bier, how was Hector coping? By focusing on the one true obsession.
Somewhere in these streets is a Curry House called Punjab…
It was after midnight, time to take our leave. Hassan drove us back to the Casa Port area of Casablanca. The traffic was mayhem. Why every vehicle is not battered and bruised remains a mystery.
Hassan and Amel both admitted missing Glasgow. Who knows, one day…