Moroccan roll.

 25 August 2023

 

LA MENARA

48 Harrington Street, Cape Town

 

I woke up this morning with an acute craving for a proper fry up with greasy eggs, crunchy bacon, plump pork bangers, baked beans, fried bread and black pudding.  

 

It was deeply disappointing and soul crushing when I perused the breakfast menu at Le Menara and found none of the above.

 

Instead, my choices were an Oriental breakfast, a traditional Moroccan breakfast, msemen and cheese, msemen breakfast, fes ftour, omelette, Marrakech protein boost, red shakshuka,  royal shakshuka (for 2), flap jacks, healthy breakfast and masoub. You can also order a bunch of extras if you feel the standard menu options lacks heft.

 

The blackboard on the pavement advertised a breakfast special of omelette with various fillings.

 

Bowing to the inevitable and with my fry up now only a chimera, I ordered the traditional Moroccan breakfast, which comes with a pot of mint tea (R99.)

 

I had my customary espresso to start (R20) and not only received a generous amount but, for probably the first time in Cape Town ever, it was a mild, flavourful roast I could drink without mitigating the normal acidity with artificial sweetener.   It if wasn’t for the promised mint tea, I would’ve indulged in more espresso. The server informed me that it’s Moroccan coffee and if that’s the case, I’ll be at Flight Centre first thing tomorrow for that package holiday in Marrakesh.

 

Oh, maybe I should set the scene a little. 

 

La Menara occupies the space where Kamali used to be, sandwiched between New York Bagels and Bootlegger. The Lebanese Bakery is just across the road and there are several other eateries and one or two new coffee joints in the vicinity. The East City Precinct is gathering critical mass.

 

The interior of La Menara is free of Moroccan kitsch, with elegant, simple, understated, decorative touches and beautiful, small, ceramic tagines on the tables as sugar holders. Downstairs there are small tables and banquette seating against the side walls, with the service counter and kitchen at the back, and in the upstairs space there are large tables and two booth-type settings on either side of the window to the street.

 

My breakfast consisted of two fried eggs, with runny yolks, some grated cheese, a minute amount of butter, two different types of olives (one of which had a spicy zing), msmen, a supremely wonderful, flaky, light-as-a-feather flatbread, reminiscent of proper croissant pastry, that I could probably literally eat a ton of, and a small, round, grilled bread with the crumb and sweetness of a scone.  

 

One can order the msemen separately with a cheese, spinach or mince filling that makes it sound like a gözleme without the crispness of the latter’s flatbread.

 

I’m no authority on Moroccan cuisine and have no idea whether this kind of dish features prominently at breakfast tables in the home country or whether it’s the chicken tikka masala of Moroccan breakfasts, but I do know that I thoroughly enjoyed it.

 

The ever so slightly sweet mint tea was a new experience. The mint flavour was subtle and whoever added the sugar is on the same page as me when it comes to sweetening.  Less is more better.

 

My sweet afters was a slice of basbousa (R35), apparently an Egyptian coconut, yoghurt and semolina cake, sprinkled with nuts and drizzled with syrup (I googled it), which I ordered for the novelty value.  It was okay. The crumb was firm and it was mildly sweet though it tasted of nothing much.

 

La Menara also offers crêpes, waffles, pancakes and other sweet things and I think I’d like to return, if not for breakfast, then for that heavenly coffee and one of these sweet treats.

 

The bill came to R154,00 before tip.

 

This was a thoroughly satisfactory experience. I like the interior of La Menara; the service was efficient and friendly and the breakfast was quite delicious.

 

As an aside, when I entered, the sole patron in the joint was an attorney in court robes, probably between matters. I looked at him and exulted in the fact, even if I once was of his ilk, that I’d exited the profession. He didn’t present as someone whose cup of joy overflows, if he has one.