Storks 'n' Things

You know the expression about not seeing what’s most obvious, the thing right in front of your nose? Guilty as charged. For three weeks, we’ve been living in a neighborhood of Marrakech, Riad Zitoun, which abuts the Mellah, or Jewish quarter. The Mellah, it turns out, is home to the city’s rather significant stork population, or les cigognes as they’re called in French. We didn’t know this until about a week ago. I chalk the oversight up to survival instincts and decorator determination; when you’re dodging the maniacal traffic that zips around the Riad Zitoun roundabout, it’s best to keep your eyes on the road and not let them wander skyward. The Mellah is also a hotspot for beautiful lanterns and since we’re nearing light installation at Dar Noury, we’ve been engrossed in the quarter’s many lantern shops, attention and eyes fixed on perforated metal, not majestic, soaring birds.


About a week ago, we did happen to glance up to see an enormous, gawky bird swoop down onto its nest atop the mosque of Riad Zitoun. The nest, even from quite a distance, looked to be the size of a New York studio apartment. We stood watching the solitary foul for about a half hour, promising ourselves to return with a camera to capture this unique (or so we thought!) site.



A few nights later, we meet the manager of a maison d’hotes in our neighborhood. It’s called Les Cigognes. Hmmm, we think, that’s interesting. I wonder if there are other storks that live around here. Shortly thereafter, we have dinner at Kosybar, a near-hip restaurant with a terrace that overlooks the Mellah, and a collection of what must be 50 storks’ nests. Ah, ha! As we sip Pastis with the sun quickly sinking at our backs, we see stork after stork glide to its nest, a somber twilight parade.

Kosybar, by the way, which was closed the first few weeks of our stay in Riad Zitoun while its owners were on vacation, is quite a nice find. The place has one of the few liquor licenses in the Medina, which means you can sip a nice glass of rose up on its blustery terrace. The place is three floors with lots of black tadelakt, a design touch we’ve noticed in a number of newer restaurants and clubs. Although we’ve only had good fish a handful of times since arriving – mostly in Essaouira and once a whole fish baked with lovely veggies by Hamoud and Hint – we decided to brave the Kosybar sushi menu. It’s been three months since we’ve had any sushi, a weekly culinary treat in Los Angeles, so we decide it’s worth the risk. To our surprise, the artful slivers of salmon, tuna and swordfish that arrive are quite delicious, buttery in texture with a fresh, sweet ocean finish. When we compliment the waiter on the sushi, he explains that the chef is from Japan. And though he’s no Nobu, we’ll certainly be back, grateful for this much-missed cuisine.