Jewish Cemetery in Marrakech (Morocco)

Feeling a call to my roots, I visited the Jewish cemetery in Marrakech this evening. It is vast, the largest in Morocco, and has been in continuous use since 1537. Many of the graves are similar to old Moroccan graves we’d seen - long white stones often unmarked, that look to us like the concrete block that marks the end of a parking space. When this cemetery was started, there were 35,000 Jews living in Marrakech. Many had come over from Spain at the invitation of the Sultan when the Catholic kings of Spain expelled the Jews. This graveyard has so many stories. Even though many are unmarked, somebody visits them because I saw the stones left on them (a Jewish tradition). Some had many stones. Some did have inscriptions in Hebrew or some in French. A row of graves were all pre-teens who had died in 1959, perhaps some epidemic. Some extra large monuments indicated revered rabbis. The stories this place could tell!

Bahia Palace (Marrakech, Morocco)

The Bahia Palace in Marrakech was built in the late 19th century by the grand vizier to the sultan, intended to be the most brilliant example of Islamic and Moroccan style, employing craftsmen in zellij (tile mosaic), intricately carved cedar, carved plaster with Islamic calligraphy, elaborate coffered ceilings, and carved and painted doors. The palace is a series of courtyards with gardens and fountains, with all the rooms opening onto them.

Jardin Majorelle (Marrakech, Morocco)

The Jardin Majorelle in Marrakech is a beautiful artistic garden and studio turned small museum, with architectural cactus and palms setting off accent pieces painted in vibrant colors. It was the residence of French artist Jacques Majorelle from the 1920s to the 50s, abandoned but then taken up and lovingly restored by Yves St. Laurent. The primary color of the structures is a vivid cobalt known as Majorelle blue (an official Pantone color!), with accents in bright yellow, sea foam green, brick red, and mustard. It is a delight for the eyes.

Saadian Tombs (Marrakech, Morocco)

The Saadian tombs are a spectacular burial monument for the family of the sultan who ruled Morocco in the 16th century. Amazingly, this beautiful monument was abandoned and essentially lost for centuries. When the Saadian dynasty ended, and a new dynasty came into power, they had no desire to remember the Saadians, but a strong piety about burial sites made them reluctant to raze them. So they just walled them up and built around them. In a dense city like Marrakech, it's actually not at all hard to imagine how an entire monument could have been lost behind walls. It was only rediscovered in 1917 by a French aerial survey. The tombs are highly ornate and feature elaborately carved plaster (called yeseria), carved cedar wood, and mosaic tile work (called zellij) which are the hallmarks of classic Moroccan decorative architecture. In addition, Carrara marble (traded by the Tuscans for Moroccan salt and spices) is used for the tombstones and columns. The tombstones are not like tombstones we are used to. Some of them are simple slabs flat to the ground marking a coffin-sized outline. Some slabs have colorful mosaic patterns on them. The more important ones have a long low narrow white stone that runs approximately the length of the tomb, as if to suggest the position of the body beneath. To me, they called to mind the concrete blocks we use to mark the head end of a parking space. (I mean no disrespect by that, it's just visually what they called to my mind.) The most important ones were made of marble and had some beveling and embellishment, but still basically that same shape. So far as I could tell, these tombstones had no writing on them. They just served to mark the spot, and I guess it was left to the memories of succeeding generations to remember who was buried where.

Arrival in Marrakech: the Medina and the Riad

Marrakech is unlike anything we had experienced before it, part Manhattan and part 14th century. At its heart is the medina, the ancient historic core surrounded by walls. The reddish-brown clay used on all the walls gives the "red city" its characteristic visual palette. Its main thoroughfares are lined with shops and buzzing with people at all hours, but barely wide enough to step to one side when a cart or a donkey comes through. Motor vehicles are supposedly prohibited, and while scooters flout this abundantly, cars just physically wouldn't fit. Thus when we arrived from the airport, our car brought us to the edge of the medina, where we found a guy with a cart (picture an extra-large wheelbarrow) to take our luggage, and we proceeded the rest of the way on foot to where we would spend the next few nights. The medina is dense and maze-like, and off of the main streets are derbs (alleys) which wind like residential capillaries off of the commercial arteries.

In the derbs, you begin to notice a fundamental aspect of Islamic architecture: tall walls with doors but scant windows. Muslims like the privacy of their homes, which traditionally have minimal outward-facing windows -- small, screened, and mostly on upper floors. The medina buildings are mostly two or three stories tall, and while the doors are often lovely, there is no other decoration or detail outside. Curb appeal is not a thing here. But if you are starting to wonder if Moroccans have no sense of beauty in their homes, step through one of those doors and prepare to be amazed. The traditional riad is arranged around an open courtyard in the center, with everything open to the light and beautifully appointed. If the family were well off, you might find beautiful tile, carved cedar wood, and intricate plaster work decorating the home. The riad, with its many rooms around the courtyard, would have been home to a large extended family. We also heard the notion that families would live more in the upper floors in the summer and in the lower floors in the winter (or was it the other way around?), a seasonal migration within the home. Today many riads, like Le Clos des Arts, our home for the next few nights, have been converted into beautiful boutique hotels. The effect is so dramatic, stepping from the bustling main road, to the quiet narrow derb with its plain walls, then into the amazing beauty of the riad.

FOOD: Nightshade

Nightshade is quintessential Arts District: a cool space blossoming in an old industrial building, a bit of a speakeasy vibe because there’s no signage on the street, you just have to know to walk down an alley behind the Hauser & Wirth gallery complex, along what looks like a loading dock ramp to find the door. The food is a distinctive Asian-inspired LA cuisine, taking inspiration from Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Thai, and Vietnamese cuisines, applying it to the bounty of local farmers markets, and just being creative in delicious and beautiful ways. Sharing plates is the way to go here, and it worked out great with six of us we could taste much of the menu. A Baja kanpachi crudo came with shiso leaves and kohlrabi, and was covered by mandolin-sliced discs of kimchi radish, arranged like fish scales. Hokkaido scallops, graced with fresh sprigs of coriander, rested in a pool of coconut vinaigrette. Beef tartare was blended with “egg yolk jam”, sesame seeds, and kochukaru (a coarse-ground Korean chili powder), giving the traditional dish a zippy flavor, and topped with floral sprouts for color and texture. The tom yum onion makes quite a presentation, looking like an onion that was rearchitected by Frank Gehry before being tempura-battered and fried, served with an unexpectedly airy light green froth of coconut milk and tom yum flavors (lemongrass, kaffir lime). Carrots of multiple colors were tamarind-glazed, served in a carrot top emulsion, and topped with toasted coconut and fresh herbs. Sunchokes were sliced and roasted to a soft mellow perfection, complimented with a strawberry sesame mole, and color-accented with a bright green herb and bright yellow edible flower petals, delighting the eye as well as the tongue. A large bowl of koshihikari congee (rice porridge, made from a short-grain Japanese rice) came with distinct mounds of pork “floss”, scallions, carmelized shallots, and crispy bits, along with an “onsen” egg (soft-cooked, Japanese spa style), to give a pleasing presentation (and an Instagram moment) before you blend it all up. The normally mild porridge was amped up with XO, a Hong Kong condiment made from dried seafood, chili, onion, and garlic. The mapo tofu “lasagna” intricately layers pork “ragu” between sheets of tofu, creating a satisfying comfort food located somewhere between Bologna and Chengdu (though it reminded me more of zha jiang mian than the fiery hot pot mapo tofu). The deliciously piquant Szechuan hot quail on Japanese milk bread is what would have happened if Howlin’ Ray grew up in Chengdu instead of Nashville. Finally, an off-menu rib roast was marinated in soy sauce and spices, and cooked to perfect crisp char on the outside while still juicy medium rare inside, and served with butter lettuce leaves, house pickles, mint leaves, and a creamy dressing. Then came the desserts, fanciful creations with bit of molecular gastronomy (cold fusion?). A guava ice was paired with cream cheese, served in a chilled stone-cold marble bowl, and topped with a slab of white chocolate made to resemble marble. A coconut mousse is encased in lime granita, with bits of pineapple and nata de coco (cubes of coconut gel), an eye-catching green mound served in a bowl made to resemble a coconut shell, thus putting the lime in the coconut visually as well as flavorfully. Tangerine ice was somehow crafted into concentric Fiestaware bowls, placed atop a remarkable almond sorbet. This fantastically creative meal is draws from many Asian cuisines, but is distinctively LA.