Restaurant Review: Marrakesh

Those in touch with Philly's restaurant pulse have undoubtedly heard of the Queen Village Moroccan joint Marrakesh. Although it's only steps from a high-traffic area of South Street, the place is almost impossible to discover accidentally, since it's buried on Leithgow Street (really an alley) and has almost nonexistent outdoor markings.

Even if you have trouble finding the entrance, your adventure is only beginning. In almost every imaginable aspect, Marrakesh provides for an extremely interesting evening. The word online is that the doors are usually locked: you'll have to knock to be admitted. (We were unable to verify this, since someone was leaving and held the doors for us as we approached). Our five-person party was greeted by the owner, with one of the warmest imaginable smiles and seated immediately at a table near the door.

The word table is used a bit loosely here. There aren't really any tables, or chairs, in the entire restaurant. Patrons are seated on heavily-cushioned, curving couches around shiny round trays. The backs of the seats are padded by loose pillows. We found our spot to be pretty comfortable, but one person with us had a stiffer seat, and was a little uncomfortable by the end of the two-hour meal.

Once settled, we had a chance to survey the decor. The room is very dark (much more than it seems in the photos) and has a slightly red tint to the light. The yellow walls are elaborately painted in deep green Arabic writing. Although it might have been a bit of a visual assault in bright light, the walls, couches, and trays combined to create a pleasing atmosphere.

Food, wine, and more photos in the second half.

Marrakesh is a BYOB, so we had carried in two bottles of red wine. The owner quickly saw that this wouldn't be enough for five large, thirsty people, and happily offered free house white wine! We at Phillyist do not turn down free alcohol. (It appears that the offer is given to everyone, and hopefully a little appreciation is shown in the tip.) The wine was sweet, but good overall.

In addition to the funky seating arrangement, there are things you really need to consider before going to Marrakesh: there are no menus, no silverware, and no individual plates. While this is OK for some family members or established couples, it might be awkward for a first date or simply repulsive with the coworker who doesn't wash his hands in the bathroom. (Fun game: trying to catch others licking their fingers or doing gross things with the community plate. Not fun game: catching your own table at the same thing.) Diners are given a full-sized bathroom towel with which to cover their laps and clean their hands. Each table receives six predetermined courses, with the only choice being lamb or beef for the fifth. We chose the lamb. "If anyone's hungry at the end, then we'll start all over again!" the owner assured with the smile of a proud father.

Warm water and washcloths, as well as a basin to catch the drippings, were brought to our table to help us sanitize our hands before dipping them in the community bowl. (This was also done after the fourth or fifth course.)

The first course, which arrived pretty soon thereafter, was an appetizer of spiced cucumber, carrots, and eggplant. We enjoyed all three, but generally agreed that the eggplant was the best. A few of us thought it was the highlight of the night, and the owner told us about a noted restaurant reviewer that felt the same way. Although we made conscious efforts to be as clean as possible, with such soft food and small pieces, it's almost impossible not to touch your mouth and then dip back into the plate. This problem increased during course two, a dish with very fine pieces of chicken enclosed in a sweet, breaded shell, which was fairly tasty but halfway through seemed too dry.

Courses three and four were a lemon-spiced chicken and the lamb. Both meats were served on-the-bone in generous portions, and each was well-flavored, moist, tender, and perfectly-cooked. In the deep dark, though, it was hard to distinguish between the meat and the fat, gristle, tendons, and sometimes bone fragments to which it was attached. At some point during the third or fourth course, every person in our group had to retrieve an inedible piece of meat from his or her mouth, with nowhere to put it except an edge of the community plate. Nasty.

The fifth course was a mix of couscous, potato, and carrot that some of us liked but this Phillyist found to be bland and unnecessary. Oddly, five spoons were sitting on the dish when it was brought to us. This was definitely a food more easily eaten with some kind of utensil, but by that logic, we would have had forks all night.

The last course brought to our table was dessert - an enormous bowl of flawless fresh fruit, served with tea. Although we were pretty full at this point, the fruit was a delicious contrast to the rest of the meal, and we all found room for some. But if there’s one thing from the entire night that will drive us back to Marrakesh, it’s the tea. The first mouthful matched the feeling of unexplained energy that we haven’t felt since downing our first few Red Bulls in 2001. If someone can distribute that tea for intravenous use, we’ll be volunteer junkies.

Although we were just about ready to go, the owner invited us to check out the second and third floors. Set up in similar fashion with couches and circular trays, the upper floors were divided into separate rooms, perfect for groups of 10 to 30.

Overall, Marrakesh was an odd but enjoyable new experience. In the end, it comes down to the food, and the restaurant certainly held its own in that category. Phillyist recommends giving it a try, especially on a Saturday, when belly dancers are there for increased sensory overload. Just be sure to make reservations and go with people who wash their hands.

Marrakesh
517 S. Leithgow Street
(Alley between 4th and 5th Streets, just north of South Street)
Reservations suggested: (215) 959-5929

Photos by author (SkyscraperSunset.com).