Sunday, February 17, 2013

Restaurant Impossible


Last Monday, next to the coffee pot, a little basket adorned with a hand shaped paperclip appeared filled with treats and promises.  Every morning last week, another basket appeared.  Every evening a part of me got massaged. The last basket was a tagine pot.  Friday night, Craig took me to a Moroccan restaurant for Valentine's Day.  

Now, we don't normally celebrate Valentine's Day.  So,  I felt like a complete heel after his very thoughtful, romantic gifts.  Not to mention, his paper clip shaping skills. But, I had heard somewhere that men are visual creatures and decided to work that angle.  So, I got two outfits, one being a dress to wear to dinner. A cute, sexy, funky dress with a neckline that required I go bra less even though the dress was sheer.  

I can solve this problem, I've seen those adhesive thingys that cover your nipples and I was gunna go get some. At Target.  Of course, they didn't have what I needed.  In the store, I was on the phone to my friend telling her about my predicament. "Go to the sex shop on the way home.  They'll have them. And for god's sake, pick up something for Craig while you're there." The only nude pasties came in heart shapes. How befitting. Now, I could either go on a date with my husband or dance at a strip club.  


When we got to the restaurant, the heat was broken.  With it being only 20 something degrees outside, it was a meat locker inside.  They promised they were working on it and it would be warm soon.  So, I  kept my jacket on, just for a little while.  Or so I thought.   

I wondered if  American Moroccan food would compare to the real thing.  The meal started with harira, a traditional Moroccan lamb and lentil soup.  Delicious. We were off to a good start.


The second course was tabbouleh and hummus.  Which, you may not realize, are NOT Moroccan.  And I'm freezing, with no prospects of getting warmer.  Even with a bottle of wine.  


Next, is chicken bastilla.  A very popular sweet and savory Moroccan dish, often made from pigeon with honey, almonds, stuffed in phyllo dough with cinnamon and powdered sugar on top.   I've had it a few times in Morocco and it's amazing.  But here, I'm completely underwhelmed.   It's mostly dough and hardly any chicken.  My legs are cramping from tucking them so close to my body to try to stay warm.  And I'm getting a little pissy.


Next comes couscous, the national dish, consumed by every Moroccan, every Friday.  Sky and I made couscous together in Morocco the traditional way, which didn't turn out nearly as good as couscous made by Moroccans.  But ours, was way better than this, which had absolutely no flavor and had potatoes on it.  Really?  Potatoes? Where's the cabbage, pumpkin and caramelized onions? 



Next came 3 tagines.  Lemon chicken with olives, which is probably the most popular tajine in Morocco.  Again, this dish has no flavor.  The lamb and strawberry one that was actually good.


Then there's the shrimp tagine.  Which, I've never heard of  before.  It's got a nice spice to it, but they forgot de-shell the shrimp. The restaurant isn't any warmer at this point, by the way.


They bring us Moroccan tea, which is authentically much too sweet, just like in Morocco.  And most important, it's warm.  They serve it with baklava.  Which is homemade and delicious.  And, yes, baklava is Greek.  A traditional Moroccan dessert is fresh oranges dusted in cinnamon. If you've never tried this before, it's strangely addictive. 


So I bought this dress so I could look all 40-something-brunette-Taylor Swift-ish-sexy-yet-cute (I'd even completed the look with cat-eye eye make-up) so Craig could stare at my cleavage throughout dinner, only to be curled up in my jacket freezing, eating disappointing food and then coming home only to have to rip those pasties off my nipples.  Which really hurt, just in case you were wondering. 

Since I really didn't get to give Craig his gift, I took this picture so he could remember what I didn't look like the day we didn't go eat Moroccan food.  I can get it framed for him and give him a big heart shaped box full of authentic Moroccan baklava.  I could even make the outline of Morocco out of a paperclip and stick it on top.


12 comments:

Hazelangel6 said...

This made me giggle. Maybe they need an authentic Moroccan menu consultant which you could totally not be. :) Thanks for the smile!!

The Loerzels said...

@ Hazel-You know what else was totally unauthentic? They had this fancy wash your hands before dinner thing. So NOT Moroccan.

The Loerzels said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Blissed-Out Grandma said...

I love your story, and I'm guessing your hubby loves the photo of you in that great dress!

Cerebrations.biz said...

Sorry the ersatz moment did not instill the ardor for which you hoped... Although, given the temperature, it was probably critical that you employed the pasties...

Vapid Vixen said...

Oh man. What a disappointing night. You looked beautiful even if you did have to cover up that amazing dress.
I've used those darn nipple cover thingies and yeah, they hurt!

The Loerzels said...

@ BOG-He's looking for another venue so I can wear the dress again.
@Roy-You wouldn't even believe how much I paid for those damn pasties!
@Vixen-Thank you so much!

Cathy Tittle said...

Your adventures in life kind of mirror mine, but in a more exciting, sexy kind of way. Lord I was laughing reading this. The best laid plans of mice and men...and vixens...
:D

MuMuGB said...

How do you manage to eat so much and stay so thin? I am sooo jealous! You look great!

The Loerzels said...

@ Cathy-Maybe I should subtitle the blog "Chronicholing our sexy misadventures"...
@ Muriel-Thanks!
I work out A LOT, plus I ate small portions of everything there because there wasn't much worth eating.

Joy Page Manuel said...

What would the rest of us do without you, Marie? Another new learning from this blog entry..thanks for the tip on the pasties! ;-)

Blogger said...

I've just installed iStripper, so I can watch the best virtual strippers on my taskbar.

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