RESTAURANTS / Max Jacobson : The Taste, Look of Morocco Take on Special Dimension in El Toro

A djellaba is a long, hooded robe well-suited to the swirling sands of a desert night or an El Toro shopping mall. That’s where restaurant owner Ali el-Haj, a native of Morocco, can be found wearing his djellaba . He is the supercharged owner and food server extraordinaire at Almagreb, an elaborately decorated North African restaurant. I’ve never seen another place quite like it.

The dining room is dominated by a series of little canopies with green-and-white striped supporting poles, which look as if they were lifted from a North African barber shop. Everyone is seated alongside low brass tables, either on narrow banquettes draped with Middle Eastern fabrics, or on the floor, reclining decadently on huge, rainbow-colored cushions. And every inch of the floor is carpeted, natch .

What’s more, el-Haj has added a fiendishly clever touch: A series of mirrors on the walls just across the canopy tops give the tiny room an almost mystical dimension of vastness. Looking up, one sees the reflections of endless canopies, as if one had stumbled onto some hidden, intricate desert civilization. It’s one of the most dramatic uses of space I have ever seen.

El-Haj must have the stamina of his fellow countryman Said Aouita, the Moroccan gold medalist in the middle distances. Unattended, el-Haj serves his eight- and nine-course feasts to an entire dining room, even taking time to wash the hands of his guests before and after the meal. Ritual hand washing is an important part of any Moroccan dinner service because the only utensils used are the fingers. Water is poured out of a curved spout while guests cup their hands over a basin.

After the hand-washing, the feast begins. I found the food here well above average. My only complaint is that many of the dishes were overly sweet. Often the sweetness was quite pleasant, but several courses of it tends to cloy.

The first course, a rich lamb broth called harira , was wonderful. We drank it from a small, alabaster-colored bowl. The broth tasted heavily of cumin, which was to appear several times more before the evening was finished, and it smelled of carrot, which gave the broth an unusual, grainy texture.

Just as we began to relax, the music started, loud Arabic chanting with heavily percussive accompaniment. I would have jumped out of my chair, but I was sitting on the floor. I looked up and out came a red-haired beauty introduced as Tanya, undulating to the music and clacking some castanets behind my right ear.

Then, just as abruptly, the music stopped, and el-Haj returned to our table with a platter of Moroccan salads. One was pureed eggplant, and the other a bell pepper and onion mixture. Both were heavily injected with cumin and garlic. Strapped to el-Haj’s shoulder, a basket of steaming bread studded with white sesame filled the air with the scent of anise. This may have been the evening’s best course; the bread was irresistible.

B’stilla followed, and it was the delight we had eagerly awaited. The stuffed pie--traditionally made with squab (chicken is almost always substituted in this country), egg, filo pastry and a light dusting of cinnamon and powdered sugar--is arguably the most sensuous treat in all of Moroccan cuisine. But this b’stilla was nearly spoiled by a surfeit of sugar on top. Somebody in the kitchen said “pretty please” once too often.

If you choose the nine-course feast, there is a lamb dish served between the b’stilla and the main course. For me, this was the evening’s major disappointment. I had counted on it being kotban (marinated lamb en brochette with coriander and turmeric), a Moroccan recipe that is my favorite of all the world’s lamb dishes. In its place, I got stewed lamb on the bone in a sweet red sauce. The lamb, I will admit, was tasty. But what this menu does not need is one more sweet dish. I would recommend the eight-course feast.

The main course offers the options of rabbit with prune, quail on saffron rice or lemon chicken with olives. The best of the three is the rabbit, which is remarkably tender and tasty. The succulent, simply roasted quail rates a close second. Pass on the chicken. It’s a lemon.

During the entree, Tanya returned for Act III. This time we were ready. We were not ready, however, for the guys at the next table who, between licentious remarks, shouted “ opa “ at her more athletic gyrations. Sorry fellas, wrong country.

Tanya is a tough act to follow, but Almagreb tries gamely with an excellent couscous, a cracked-wheat staple that many Moroccans eat daily. Ours came smothered in a seductively delicate blend of carrot, zucchini, onion, potato and raisins; we loved it. Save your appetite for it.

The service finished with little triangles of baklava, blanched almonds, pitted dates and mint tea that el-Haj poured into our narrow vessels from a Niagara-like height. As a final irony, the tea, which is normally sweetened beyond belief in Morocco, could have used more sugar.

Almagreb is moderately priced and an excellent value considering the food, ambiance, and entertainment. Count on at least 2 hours for the experience. The nine-course feast is $19.95 per person, the eight-course feast is $17.95. There is a small, reasonably priced wine list with a variety of French and California selections.

ALMAGREB

23700 El Toro Road, in the Saddleback Valley Plaza, El Toro

(714) 859-9393

Open for dinner Tuesday through Thursday 6 to 10 p.m., Friday through Sunday 5:30 to 9:30 p.m.

All major cards accepted