Herald rating: * * * 1/2
Address: 475 Khyber Pass Rd
Phone: (09) 523 4578
Web: sahaa.co.nz
Open: Mon-Sat 5pm-late
Cuisine: North African
From the menu: Lamb, cumin, cinnamon meatballs, poached with lemons $11;
Lemon pepper and chilli roast chicken, broccoli, mashed potato $24;
Vegetables, chickpeas, sultanas, figs and almonds infused with cinnamon and saffron on couscous $24
Vegetarian: Dine happy
Wine: Not a strong point
KEY POINTS:
We have all been here before, when it was Marko's. Makhlouf Benyettou, the chef and owner, is walking through his restaurant, chatting to the customers, of which there are a surprising number on a Monday night.
He stops by our table. Jude, Janet and I tell him we came here when it was Marko's. "Same owner, same chef," he says. "Me. Same menu."
So why did you change the name? "People thought it was Italian."
And what does Sahaa mean? "It's Algerian for 'your good health'. And 'how are you?'. And 'thank you'. Or even," he gestures, "'go away'. Whatever you want."
"Like 'ca va' in France," I suggest. "Or 'prego' in Italy."
Uh-oh. That Italian thing again.
Sahaa is a delegate to the United Nations' assembly of eateries at the foot of Khyber Pass Rd: Chinese, Malaysian, Thai, Italian (no Greek. There's never a Greek restaurant in Auckland).
Benyettou draws on his Algerian homeland and its Moroccan and Tunisian neighbours.
Robert Carrier, who knew much about such things, reckoned Moroccan was one of the three great cuisines, with French and Chinese. Others prefer Turkish, but we're here now.
Couscous, the semolina pasta used as a bed for stews and desserts, was the first dish to make the journey down under, thanks to 70s hippies. Lately tagine has been the flavour du jour.
Glossy lifestyle magazines feature the coned, earthenware pot in gourmet recipe or designer kitchen setting: droll to see a lowly-cast, low-caste crockpot become a symbol of middle-class aspiration.
For those who haven't bought a mag recently, tagine-the-food is a lamb or poultry stew, cooked long and slow with almonds, eggs, prunes, lemons, tomatoes, flavoured with spices like saffron, cumin, coriander, cinnamon, ginger, paprika. It is what Sahaa does most, and best.
We start with little filo parcels of minced lamb flavoured with cinnamon to spice the palate and the evening's conversation, and kebabs, which the French christened brochettes and the North Africans reclaimed as zatar.
Chef rubs thyme, sumac and spices into chicken, cuts 'em into bite-sized cubes and barbecues them. Tasty side: orange yoghurt dressing on the salad.
This is a good moment to note wine is not the strong point of the North African gourmet experience, and Sahaa embodies that with a small, supermarket-level selection.
We knew one tagine dish will pretty much feed two, and we were three, so two with couscous would be plenty. So we chose three. To check the subtle differences.
Lahm lhalou (I can't write in all the glottal stops so you'll have to imagine them) is a classic; chunks of tender lamb infused with the orange and prune juices, and almond slivers, delivered steaming and sizzling in the traditional dish.
Enjoyed, too, fish that's played in the pool with cumin and coriander, and made friends with Benyettou's own preserved lemons. Just like, I refrained from saying, his mother used to make. And probably his grandmother.
For that's the point of this cuisine: good, honest, rib-sticking cooking, not culinary tricks. Nothing wrong with that. You could go to France and be wowed by Joel Robuchon: bet you'll still remember the night you ate steak-frites in a Parisian bistro, or bouillabaisse in Marseilles.
Saying that, doubt I'd revisit the calamari tagine, an unusual melange of squid rings, green olives and carrots in spicy tomato sauce. As the international arbiters of taste like to say, it didn't do it for me.
Finished with sweet almond, honey and filo desserts and mint tea, served Algerian-style, from a beaten silver pot, poured once to warm the glass, then rinsed, served again from an arm's-length above, to oxygenate the leaves. Sip quickly, before it cools.
"Let's go out for Indian." "Fancy Thai tonight?" We kid ourselves we're being exotic and adventurous when we eat out but often we're munching more of the same. Go to Newmarket. Taste the old souk.
