Tajine Tafraoute Project

Place: Tangierino (Charlestown, MA)

Tajine Partner: Nadja, very close friend

How I found out about it: Word of mouth and online: Tangierino is supposed to be one of the best restaurants in Boston.

Dinner this evening was a (very) late birthday present for Nadja. I had wanted to take her to the Chippendale’s show in Boston — what could be better than beefcakes in sailor suits stripping down to American-flag-print boxers while lip syncing to “America the Beautiful” remixed to a house beat? Or watching a star-struck housewife get face-humped by three tool-belt wearing studs? — but, after clicking through three Ticketmaster screens (each of them added another ridiculous fee) and trying to decipher those impossibly stretched-out words for “security reasons,” I threw in the towel.

I made reservations for Tangierino, which is reputed to be one of Boston’s best restaurants. It’s certainly the most well known Moroccan place around. We stepped inside: dim red lighting, sheer canopies, maroon couches arranged around low-lying tables. It felt exactly like any Westerner’s conception of Morocco: sexy, exotic, lots of pillows.

After a ten minute wait — we sat on comfy chairs near the front, the bar was too crowded — we were led to our table and seated next to each other on a couch. (Note: don’t come here on a first date, unless you’re prepared to get cozy.) The glass covered table was scattered with rose petals. A man came to our table with a silver basin and poured rose-scented water over our hands. Fancy.

We ordered two drinks off the extensive and innovative cocktail menu: my martini-style Sex in Agadir was good but a little on the sweet side, Nadja’s minty Rocks of Gibraltar was better. We split the Chicken B’Stilla appetizer: two triangular pastries filled with chicken and toasted almonds, topped with powdered sugar and served with a side of yogurt dip. It wasn’t too sweet or too thick, just enough to whet the palate, a little tease before we dug into the real headliners of the evening: the Tajine of Lemony Chicken and the Tajine of Chicken Couscous. (We skipped the third tajine on the menu, the Tajine of Wild Salmon).

This would be Nadja’s first tajine. I tried not to build it up too much, but failed rather miserably. I was confident: waiters were delivering a steady stream of tajines, and if everyone was ordering it, it had to be good, right?

Nope.

I poked at the “lemony chicken,” which was hidden beneath a generous portion of pommes fries and a smattering of green olives. A brief archaeological dig with my fork — where were the vegetables? The tender, falling-off-the-bone meat? — revealed nothing more. Just chicken, fries, and olives. I doubted that the chicken had even been cooked in the clay pot: the tajine was a serving dish, that’s all. Just for looks.

The chicken breast was thick, juicy, and had absorbed a mixture of spices: but it still lacked the “bursting with flavor” quality that is the tajine’s trademark.

Nadja was faring much worse: “This reminds me of food in Zambia.”

Her tajine: a chicken breast wedged next to a serving of couscous, on top of which someone had spread a thin layer of what appeared to be chunky-style pasta sauce. A waiter brought over a different, more liquid sauce (”for the couscous”) but Nadja’s excitement was short-lived, as the sauce did nothing to improve the bland flavor.

We switched. She liked mine better.

Her tajine was barely edible. The couscous tasted like cardboard. The bits of vegetables were tasteless. I rearranged, I stirred, I drenched the new mixture in sauce — anything to make it palatable — but it remained stubbornly bland. The chicken had a pleasant, moist consistency, but hardly any flavor.

Desert was an improvement. My chocolate souffle was rich with flavor and served with a side of vanilla ice cream.

We wanted to smoke a post-dinner hookah at the Casbah Lounge next door, so we waited for an open table. In the meantime, we got a little Chippendale’s show of our own: a belly dancer. Usually, I’m all for belly-dancing dinner entertainment, but this was a little weird, because the dancer — whose skirt was stuffed with bills — was actively seeking tips, and if she caught you watching, she’d target you. Given that our couch faced out into one of the only open spaces in the restaurant, we were forced to awkwardly avert our eyes for a long period of time. Not easy when someone is shaking her butt right in front of you.

After 45 minutes of waiting, and several fruitless inquiries about our “spot” on the waiting list, we left.

Bottom line:

The tajine is the decor here, a serving dish to fit in with the Moroccan theme. Reminds me of why I’m moving back to good ol’ NYC.

Rating: 3/10 (I’d give the Tajines a 2/10. But the drinks/appetizer/deserts were great)

Restaurant Details:

Tangierino
83 Pleasant St
Charlestown, MA 02129
(617) 242 - 6009
www.tangierino.com

Chippendales (I strongly recommend a visit to this site — it’s hilarious.)

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