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  • Jennifer

...Mosaic Blue "A Moroccan Rodeo"

I don’t remember my exact words: “What’s a COWBOY doing working in a MOROCCAN restaurant?!” Maybe that was it. And I had sounded like the guy in that salsa commercial years ago. He looks at his jar of salsa and is thunderstruck to see that it wasn’t made out West, instead in – “NEW YORK CITY?!”

Anyway, Lisa and I ventured to “The Fez” Moroccan restaurant in Stamford, Connecticut, one chilly night this winter. We came face-to-face with a water-pitcher-toting blonde hunk – he was wearing a black leather cowboy hat. He was totally out of place in “The Fez” – Fez being a city in the exotic Saharan, North African nation of Morocco. There was a huge fanciful pink scarf draped across the restaurant’s ceiling – with gold-looking medallions changling from its ends. Seriously, what was a cowboy doing here?!

For fear of our new friend mistaking my shocked amusement for disapproval, I leaned over to Lisa – “BUT I LOVE IT.” Even if he hadn’t heard my cowboy comment, I figured damage control was best. After all, I have room in my heart for ol’ cowboys AND fanciful Moroccans.

Lisa and I loved rediscovering our old “medina” of sorts. “The Fez” had been shut down for renovations for what felt like forever, and we’d only ever had appetizers there. So, this would be our first meal. Lisa and I had regularly daydreamed about hot couscous, skewered meat, and maybe some awesomely exotic concoction whose name we couldn’t even pronounce. We’d be chit-chatting about gorgeous blue Moroccan mosaic tiles, as we feasted on our scrumptious meals. WHOA. What a culinary fantasy.

We took our seats – neon wintergreen lamps hung down like teardrops from the ceiling. Then, woven carpets adorned the floor – they looked ready to lift us up, up, and away to the Sahara Desert. And, of course there was that pink scarf – a pretty accent.

As for the long-fantasized food, it was stupendous. Lisa ordered the vegetable tagine – I the chicken tagine. This entrée is served in a beautiful brown clay pot (a “tagine” pot). It resembles a baby volcano. Our waiter lifted the pot’s lid – my face lit up. I then dove in like Robert Redford in the film “Jeremiah Johnson” whose character is coming in from the wilderness cold. (Just call me Jennifer Johnson.)

The chicken tagine was perfect for a cold Connecticut night. The chicken was delectable – it still had some rugged-looking bone (adding to my “wild lady coming in from the cold” scenario). The accompanying hot carrots, potatoes, olives, and couscous melted in my mouth. The meal was rich, hearty. Yet, it was also wonderfully light. As for the vegetable tagine, Lisa raved. The zucchini, one of her fave veggies, did not disappoint. Her particular dish also had tasty red sauce and spices.

Now, if we could just find out about our cowboy. Who is he? Why does he work there? Is he visiting from – “NEW YORK CITY?!” Mysteries prevail!



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