The Moroccan at Amanjena

The Moroccan at Amanjena sits at the centre of a resort that was designed to feel like a ruined palace rebuilt for living. Ed Tuttle modelled the property on Ahmed al-Mansour's el-Badi, and the restaurant inherits that ambition: a courtyard dining room of honey-coloured marble columns, candle-lit tables, and long drapes that partition the space into something between a grand hall and a private riad. A marble fountain anchors the room beneath a retractable skylight. After dark, with no electric light at all, only candles and brass lanterns, the effect is closer to a scene from oral history than a hotel dinner. The menu draws on Berber, Andalusian, and Middle Eastern traditions as they have merged across Moroccan kitchens for centuries. Tagines arrive decorated with almonds, prunes, and apricots; briouate pastries are stuffed with cheese, fish, or slow-braised meat; clay-cooked couscous carries the warmth of saffron, ginger, and cumin. Mechoui lamb, cooked low and long, is the anchor. Fish arrives daily from Essaouira's port. Vegetables and herbs come from gardens within the nineteen-acre grounds. An Italian menu from Aman's Arva programme shares the same room, so risotto and linguine sit quietly alongside the Moroccan card for those who want both. Most evenings, Trio Andalou, a local ensemble in white robes and crimson fez, play oud, derbouka, and violin beside the fountain. Outside the dining room, the resort's ancient bassin, an emerald irrigation pool, reflects the Atlas Mountains and the rose-pink walls that radiate outward through olive groves and palm gardens. The setting alone would justify the visit; the kitchen earns the return.