Our writer travels through Tunis, taking in patisseries, fancy dining establishments, and the centre of the city’s culinary scene with the help of a local cookbook author
La Marsa, a free-spirited suburb of Tunis beside the sea, with whitewashed buildings that sparkle in the light. I’m waiting for Malek Labidi at the posh Boulevard des Capucines café on a Friday lunch break. People are grabbing paper-wrapped sandwiches with meat, eggs, and hot harissa in a hurry, creating a busy scene. These takeaway dinners are served from tiny, hidden restaurants and are a convenient option in a city where time passes quickly.
Almost everyone in the café greets her warmly when Malek arrives. Chef Malek, a native of Tunisia, received her training at the Institut Paul Bocuse in Paris and was taught by Alain Ducasse before returning home. Her first cookbook, La Table du Nord, was just released. The book, which focuses on conserving the northern Tunisian culinary legacy, has won praise for presenting the nation’s vivacious food scene. This is especially important in light of the fall in tourism that followed the revolution in 2011 and the ensuing terrorist assaults. But travellers are starting to come back, travelling from Marseille and Palermo via ferry. I see sun-kissed limbs and sporadic camera flashes as we walk towards the shore; these are both silent pledges to the local economy.
My gastronomic adventure commences at Gourmandise La Marsa, a sophisticated pastry shop featuring shelves filled with French gateaux covered with cocoa. But we choose the homemade kaak warka, which are little sweet treats shaped like doughnuts and baked with a delicate almond paste and wild rose water. Malek recounts that people made palm-sized kaak warka and filled them with gold during the Spanish reconquista of Andalusia. Smuggled into North Africa, these treats allowed refugees to buy property and build new homes.
We walk along the crooked road by the waterfront after our snack. There’s a skatepark further down the coast, and the posh La Marsa neighbourhood is lined with artisanal stores, cafes, and fine dining establishments. Lyoum is a chic apparel boutique where we can discover goods with quirky illustrations of brik (triangular pastries filled with soft egg, potatoes, cheese, and tuna) and harissa tubes. “We’re always thinking about food, even in fashion,” Malek says with a laugh.
Sweet stalls are lighted by neon lights that flicker in and out over mounds of date-filled pastries and fried dough coated in honey.
We head to the beachfront restaurant Le Golfe as the sun sets behind alleys lined with trees and mashrabiya balconies that are closed up. The sea bass carpaccio beginning at Le Golfe is a reflection of the Mediterranean and its seasonal offerings, with layers of fish entwined with delicate slices of beetroot and orange zest. Steamed gilt-head bream accompanied by crispy eggplants and pistachios is the main course. By the time we finish the john dory risotto, the buttery sauce wonderfully balances the sweetness of the fish, leaving us feeling utterly pleased. After we eat, we take our seats and drink cups of boukha, a spirit with fig flavour from Tunisia.
The next morning, I make my way to the medina, which is at the centre of the city’s culinary scene. Even though it is just 9am, the market is bustling with lively activity as customers make their way between packed stalls. Unlike the posh La Marsa stores, the medina has a worn appeal with sunny leather products and bunches of dates swaying overhead.
I follow Malek’s instructions and head towards the small Rue Jamaa Ez Zitouna. The sweet shops are lit by neon lights, which flicker in and out over mounds of date-filled pastries and fried dough coated in honey. Upon selecting something from every stall, I head over to Panorama Cafe. I sip my bitter Arabic coffee on its beautifully tiled roof terrace, which provides a breathtaking view of the Medina, including the minaret of Zitouna mosque.
Once I’ve finished my pastries and coffee, I explore more of the medina. The market changes as I move inside, going from less expensive baubles to more genuine items. Towers of traditional handmade red felt caps at Souk de Chechias draw my attention, and Ed-Dar on Rue Sidi ben Arous features beautiful triangular rugs. In between hardware stores and bustling knickers shops, splintered wooden tables are covered in mounds of spices, including cinnamon, pungent ras el hanout and strands of saffron.
With her second cookbook open, Malek suggests Fondouk El Attarine for lunch. Its opulent doors lead into a calm restaurant with a garden, offering a peaceful diversion from the busy market outside. I choose nwasser au poulet, a meal of crispy chicken with a peppery sauce served with square-shaped Tunisian pasta, since I’m eager to finish my shopping frenzy. I love assida zgougou, a pine nut cream with crushed pistachios on top, for dessert.
The UNESCO-protected cultural enclave of Sidi Bou Said, known for its blue and white buildings, is the next stop on my itinerary. I meander through galleries of modern art such as Galerie Saladin and Selma Feriani, then unwind on the beach until dinnertime.
Malek meets me in the evening in the portside neighbourhood of La Goulette, where the main drag is lined with seafood eateries. We make the choice to try the “King of Brik,” Chez Mohsen, for their famous fried filo parcels.
My brik immediately leaks the egg yolk onto the dish. Malek claims that this is a big mistake because it’s customary for women to be judged marriage-ready only if they can eat this messy delicacy with skill. Later that night, when we say our goodbyes, I promise to use her cookbook to learn more about Tunisian cooking. Even if I might not be ready for marriage just now, I promise in silence to face any future briks head-on, yolks and all.
