On Friday night, I went to a Tunisian dinner. A couple of Zingerman's employees are aspiring to open a Tunisian restaurant in Ann Arbor in the next year or two, and the dinner was something of a kick-off in celebration of meals to (hopefully!) come soon. There were six courses, and I'm excited to tell you all about them. But first, I hope you'll indulge me as I say a little about Tunisian cuisine.
Though we're quite familiar with Italian and other northern Mediterranean cuisines in the US, Tunisian food remains more of a mystery. (Perhaps this is partly due to the fact that, as I learned on Friday, there is currently only one Tunisian restaurant in the US – it's in New Orleans, if you were wondering.) Tunisian is a southern Mediterranean cuisine, and it uses many of the same ingredients as its northern cousins, like garlic, tomatoes, peppers, and olives and olive oil. Unlike other Mediterranean cuisines, though, Tunisian food is often quite spicy: the ubiquitous condiment harissa, a spread made of sun-dried chili peppers, olive oil, and other spices, is found throughout the country in many traditional dishes. Another important facet of Tunisian cuisine is the use of preserved foods: fruit, tomatoes, garlic, peppers, and, most importantly, couscous, are all carefully prepared to be kept for years of drought or raids from neighboring tribes.
Friday night's dinner was a special occasion not only for the food, but also because of a couple of VIP attendees: Majid and Onsa Mahjoub. The Mahjoubs own les Moulins Mahjoubs, a company based in the Merjada valley of Tunisia that produces some outstanding traditionally-made Tunisian foods. Many of their products were featured throughout the meal, and they contributed in other ways, too: Majid, a charming and charismatic man, has a contagious enthusiasm for his country's history and food, and he educated and entertained us all with his stories of Berber traditions and his explanations of why couscous was first created. Onsa's English is limited, but she is an incredible and generous cook with a sweet, ready smile, and sometimes I think that communicates more than spoken language ever can. At the end of the meal, what a joy it was to be able to thank not only the chefs who cooked the meal, but also the couple who prepared so many of the ingredients!
The bright orange glob in front is the houria, a mild spread with a slightly grainy texture made of carrots, olive oil, and spices. The red sauce in the back is the Mahjoub's harissa. It's incredibly flavorful stuff, and packs a serious punch of heat in the finish. The dark green sauce at the upper right is the mechouia, made of grilled green peppers, grilled onions, tomatoes, eggplant, olive oil, caraway, salt, pepper, and lemon juice. It had a pronounced smokiness from the grilled vegetables. The three spreads combined on a hunk of baguette created a fantastic bite.
The second course was a fava bean and green pea mdammis.
This bright green soup was made with favas and peas, garnished with pea sprouts and a spicy tomato spread, and finished with a radish torchi, or quick radish pickle made with ground toasted caraway. The soup tasted as green as it looks, but the real star of the show were the radish pickles, which added a lovely tartness and crunch to the bite.
Next came a grilled sardine with olives and preserved lemon, served alongside a brik au thon.
The sardine had been grilled to crispy perfection. It was a challenge separating the fillet from the bones, but when the flesh was finally liberated from its bony confines it was perfectly cooked, smoky and fishy and intensely flavorful. The sardine was served with the Mahjoubs' Meski and Sahli olives, for which I heard many compliments bandied about the table. Unfortunately, try as I may, I just can't seem to become an olive-ophile.
The sardine was served alongside the brik au thon. A brik is a savory Tunisian pastry made with a semolina-based pastry (called "malsouqa") that is wrapped around a filling. Thon means tuna in French, and this brik was filled with tuna, onion, parsley, sun-dried garlic spread, ricotta, and egg. The brik was pan fried until golden and crisp, and served with a lemon wedge. It was crisp on the outside, soft and creamy on the inside, mild and delicious.
And finally, the pièce de résistance: Couscous Royale with Quadid and summer vegetables. A dinner like this would hardly be complete without a couscous, which is the national dish of Tunisia. This version was made with the exquisite Mahjoub M'hamsa couscous, which is the best I have ever tasted. It's still hand-rolled, the way the Berbers have been making their couscous for centuries. Topping the couscous was Quadid, a luscious lamb confit: the lamb, which came from a local farm whose name escapes me, was cooked in an olive oil bath with mint, rose petal, harissa, and garlic at a low heat for about eight hours, infusing it with an incredible richness - just outstanding. The couscous was also served with roasted wedges of zucchini and summer squash, and a few roasted parsnips. Summer squash isn't always one of my favorites, but this was soft and sweet and just lovely with the beautiful, flavorful couscous. The whole dish was superb.
Unfortunately, my photos of the still-steaming, nearly overflowing mound of couscous, meat, and vegetables on its enormous platter for family-style service all turned out dark and blurry, so you'll have to take my word that it was a beautiful presentation. You won't have to take my word, though, that it was finger-lickin' good:
Finally, we were on to dessert: maquroudh, pistachio creme, and Mahjoub mulberry jam.
Though the Mahjoubs had arrived in the US at about two a.m. on Friday morning, Onsa helped the chefs make the maquroudh, a semolina cookie stuffed with date, orange zest, and orange flower water, which is fried and then simmered in honey syrup. It was sweet but not too sweet, and paired very well with the flavorful mulberry jam and delicate, delicious pistachio cream.
And then, in case we hadn't eaten enough yet, there were dates and mint tea.
The dates had been sprinkled with orange flower water and orange zest for a little kick of citrus sweetness. The expertly steeped mint tea was dotted with toasted pine nuts, added to the drink traditionally for their toasty flavor and to add a little crunch to the drink.
The only thing sweeter than finishing with a lovely dessert was being able to thank the Mahjoubs for their beautiful food, especially the exquisite couscous. I thanked Majid in French, and he was so gracious and so enthusiastic about being able to share his knowledge and his food. As I ambled away into the warm summer evening, I could only hope the evening's pleasure was one I'll experience again soon.
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