Café Arabe, Marrakech: centerpiece of memorable day in Morocco

Musee de Marrakech Mint tea at the Musee de Marrakech cafe Almoravid Koubba Entrance to the Ben Youssef Medersa ...

Musee de Marrakech

Mint tea at the Musee de Marrakech cafe

Almoravid Koubba

Entrance to the Ben Youssef Medersa

Ben Youssef Medersa courtyard

At the Ben Youssef Medersa

Cafe Arabe in Marrakech

Top floor terrace at Cafe Arabe

Our first full day in Marrakech, Morocco in March of 2011, we drank deeply of the city’s rich culture and appeal. After visits to the Musee de Marrakech, Almoravid Koubba and Ben Youssef Medersa, 3 of Marrakech’s most celebrated attractions, we wandered to the Cafe Arabe for a lunch of sustenance and respite.

Our host led us to the rooftop terrace, where we were happy to be open to the afternoon’s air and sky but also protected from the rain shower that came while we ate. I had my first experience of tagines, those slow-cooked stews that are prepared and presented in characteristic conical clay vessels. The lamb and vegetables and aromatic sauce over couscous managed to be incredibly rich and light at the same time. It didn’t hurt that I got to wash it down with a local white wine. I don’t really get how a country that abstains from drinking alcohol can produce very nice wine, but I’ll leave it to grayer heads to work out that dilemma. I’d rather just have another bite of lamb and carrots and couscous with a swallow of that crisp fruity wine, thank you.

Cafe Arabe’s building is fascinating. From the street, the pale plaster gives no hint of the colorful rooms and courtyard that lay within. The terrace was a perfect place to eat and relax and reflect on the day, but next time I go there I want to eat in a private room sitting on colorful plush pillows and surrounded by pink gauzy curtains.

The rest of the day was a dream after that lovely lunch. I had puzzled out how to snake our way through the souks to get back to Jemaa el Fna square and from there to our riad, but I hardly remember how it happened. I only know that our steps seemed light, and we couldn’t make a wrong turn. Could it have been Cafe Arabe’s magic in play? Who knows?