I first went to Marrakesh (the restaurant on New York Ave, not the city), about two years ago, drawn by the spectacle rather than the food. Marrakesh is not so much about dinner as it is about dinner theatre–a beautiful space, belly dancers, waiters who hand you hot towels and pour mint tea from on high in the Moroccan style–and consequently the food was sort of…meh. I mentally checked off that restaurant from my list, figured I’d never go again, and forgot about it.
But. Last night I attended a group dinner there, again drawn by the spectacle and the good company, and found to my delight that the food had improved. The dinner consisted of seven courses, five of which were worth learning how to make at home. The roast chicken with lemon and olives was tender and juicy, with snappy crisp skin and just enough fat to be difficult to eat with one’s hands, but still worth the great trouble. The lamb was heavy, but fall-apart tender and flavorful. The pastry was flaky and buttery and sweet, and, wonderfully, included almonds instead of walnuts or pistachios. (I have a nut allergy, so it is possible that all Moroccan pastry is this good, and I just never knew.) The Moroccan wine (sold only by the carafe/bottle) was also better than expected–smooth and fruity and lingering.
The place is still about the spectacle more than the food, so I’m not going to advise you to rush out and try it again as soon as possible. But if you haven’t been lately and think it’s not so great, eventually, do give it another try. I hope you get the same belly dancer we did. Wow.)