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TELEVISION viewers may recall the Bar- claycard commercial in which Rowan Atkinson wanders out of a Moroccan souk with a newly purchased carpet over his shoulder, unaware that the tail end of his rug is ablaze. `Ah,' he muses, 'smell those Tuareg campfires.' Equally naive is the diner who enters Pasha, London's latest `Moroccan' restaurant, and declares, `Ah, a little slice of Marrakesh.'
Pasha is no more Moroccan than the average Chinese takeaway is vrai chinois. This may come as a disappointment to those pining for the Atlas foothills or the Gazelle d'Or. As one whose last experience of Moroccan haute cuisine was a disgusting cauldron of fatty lamb at one of Rabat's smartest establishments, Pasha's lack of authenticity comes as a pleasant surprise. Moroccan food is on a roll at the moment — witness the success of Momo and Moro — but Pasha is not a case of 'Cook it again, Sam'. It might best be described as Middle-Eastern-meets-Mediterranean- meets-Californian with a spot of couscous thrown in.
The decor is non-specific Arab and the waiters wear jellabas, yet there is little in appearance that shrieks Morocco as opposed to any other part of the Islamic world. However, no one at Pasha makes a serious pretence of authenticity. 'You would not find this food in Morocco,' one waiter admitted. Nor would you find him in Morocco: most of the staff are French or Italian with just two Moroccans on the pay- roll. Not a fez in sight.
This is the latest venture of Mogens Tholstrup, the Danish restaurateur who has built up a devoted following among the more self-conscious diners of Kensington and Chelsea. Daphne's, the Tholstrup flag- ship anchored in the shopping lanes between South Kensington and Sloane Square, and its near-neighbour The Collec- tion are now mandatory ports of call on any paparazzo's evening rounds. Such a neurot- ic clientele would not take kindly to Pasha if Mr Tholstrup served up anything as real- istic as a vat of lumpy Rabat sheep. Hence the presence of lots of vegetarian dishes like pumpkin and slow- roast vegetable salad. 'Look, Naomi, I know it says "Moroccan" but don't worry, they do serve rocket. . . . '
Pasha may take longer to make an impact than its siblings. Situated at the top end of Gloucester Road, it is on an unfash- ionable site which has proved tough to crack. So far, though, it would appear that there are enough dedicated Tholstrupians to keep the 73 seats occupied. Friends report a full house on a recent Tuesday night. On our visit last Saturday evening, some tables were doing a third sitting at 10.45.
Down below is the place to be. The upper floor is airy but a little soulless, while the basement consists of nooks and dark- ened speakeasies off a low-lit dining-room. One wonders whether the cavern feel will lose its appeal in summer, but on a winter's evening it is snug. My friends had been given a nook on their visit; good for priva- cy, they said, but prone to erratic service. The four of us were in the main room, where the tables were sufficiently far apart to stop me from eavesdropping on the Arab arms deal going on behind me. The noise is a low, conspiratorial burble rather than the buzz of, say, The Collection. Alter- nating strains of Arab bop and Spanish gui- tar music are discernible but not obtrusive.
There are few whiffs of the Tuareg camp- fire on the list of starters. With my neigh- bour, I shared the mixed mezze which required a 'minimum of two people'. The six dishes — tabbouleh, chargrilled veg, yoghurt and mint, a citrus purée, oily beans and a pumpkin and garlic mulch — proved an intriguing improvement on a bowl of hummus. At a minimum of £14, though, so it should. The £5.50 crispy lamb salad with pomegranate, radish and mint received nods of approval. 'It's crispy,' vouched its owner unhelpfully, eating the evidence before I could check.
With Moroccan wine as scarce as Moroc- cans, we opted for a crisp, white £15.50 `Tomorrow we annex Canary Wharf.' Rias Baixas 1996 from the other side of the straits of Gibraltar. A 1995 Chateau Kefraya from Lebanon's Bek'aa Valley, at £16, proved a worthy red in a predominant- ly French list.
Morocco does manage to feature in the main courses (most in the £10-£13 range) with tagines of chicken, lamb and lobster. Couscous, though, must be ordered as an extra at £1.75 a bowl.
The chicken tagine with apricots was a little heavy on the parsley but tender and well-received. Our other chicken-eater found perfect breast of brilliant white in her yoghurt and dukkah marinated chicken with aubergine and tomato. The yoghurt proved elusive and a lively debate ensued as to whether anyone could taste the dukkah until it emerged that none of us had the faintest idea what dukkah was. However, our over-ordered bowls of cous- cous proved versatile, sitting happily with the chargrilled rib eye of beef (Scottish) with chickpeas, aubergine, tomato and zaatar. Quirkiest of all was the pigeon and almond pastilla. 'Exquisite,' declared the pigeon fan who ordered it. Casting aside a lifelong aversion to pigeon, I scooped up a mouthful and was pleasantly surprised. The pastry was crisp, light and detachable, the innards smooth, tender and surprisingly sweet. Not bad for the winged squirrel I have loathed all these years, but not enough to convert me.
Among the puddings, all in the £4 range, the yoghurt with honeycomb and almonds could have done with more honeycomb and less yoghurt. The lemon and goat's cheese- cake was more crème brill& than cheese- cake, a rich and tangy treat. The chocolate and pistachio parcels were deemed 'a bit boring'.
Some may find Pasha too fussy, its tiny eggcup ashtrays hopeless, its leaky little pots of mint tea a hazard to the lap. The restaurant does not seem sufficiently Ara- bic to warrant sitting a few inches off the ground. This means craning one's neck at the waiters and a sense of being in a restau- rant full of midgets. At least Pasha should get a visit from Danny de Vito the next time he is in town.
Whatever it is supposed to be, though, it is entertaining. Mr Tholstrup knows that his customers expect both interesting food and a spectacle, and they will not be disap- pointed. Towards the end of dinner, two of our group, both keen Morocco-goers, began discussing a future walking holiday in that country. 'There's no way they'd ever serve this stuff in Morocco,' said one. `Mind you, I wish they would.' So do I.
Pasha: I Gloucester Road, SW7; tel: 0171 589 7969. Dinner for two with wine at around £80 including 15 per cent service charge. Set lunch menu at £12.50. Open Monday-Saturday, noon-3 p.m., 7-11.30 p.m.
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