Please note that since writing this blog post, Zina has closed down
Those of you who read this blog often will know of my burgeoning obsession with North Africa. Last year I went to Tunisia on holiday, and sampled several examples of ‘brik’ – a kind of thinner, deep-fried version of a Cornish pasty. In the not too distant future, I also plan to travel in Morocco, home of the tagines of which I’m latterly so beloved…
I was pleased, then, to be invited to Zina – a Moroccan restaurant I’d often gazed at when I used to live in Oud-West, and which offered the famous brik on its menu. Not, however, that I actually got to see the menu for my first fifteen minutes in the restaurant. With no drinks and no menus, we were starting to feel somewhat invisible, although the specials on the blackboard were like carrots on an unforthcoming stick: tantalising, but as yet unattainable. We finally ordered a bottle of Moroccan red wine from the waitress who, when she eventually made it to our table, was perfectly friendly if lacking in colleagues. Unsurprisingly, I sampled the brik filled with tuna, parsley and egg while my dining companion had a salad of duck breast with a pine nut and pomegranate dressing; both were excellent, if tardy in their arrival.
The wait before the main course was almost conversation-stoppingly long and, although I don’t mind lingering over dinner, the speed of service would be a problem if you had theatre tickets or a babysitter to get back to. It’s hard to feel really incensed, though, when the quality of food that arrives is so good. The cous cous that accompanied both my sea bass and my companion’s lamb was excellently spiced and sweetened with carmelised onions and raisins, and held its timbale shape despite the moat of sauce that surrounded it.
