Yesterday, we flew across the cerulean waters of the Mediterranean sea, the bustling Strait of Gibraltar, and the mauve patchwork of dry Moroccan land. As we neared Marrakech, the terrain included postage stamps of dark green olive groves, small farmstead, and fortified villages with semicircular rock walls. We landed at the airport, warm and sere, but dotted with towering palms.
Soon we said salam and shukran, made it through customs, met old friends. There were hugs and recognition, exchanges covering the last few days– long plane trips for some, jaunts around Paris for others, and memories made years ago in far off jungles.
After settling in at the Kenzi Rose hotel, inhaling the artificially rich scent of jasmine, and watching for Bulbuls and Eurasian Blackbirds, we walked into Marrakech along tiled sidewalks, past dusty streets of apartments and stores. We arrived at Le 68 Bar à Vin Marrakech, a close-in dive bar filled with smoke with a line of cramped tables pushed towards a bank of small wood-trimmed windows. The atmosphere was dark with walls lined with old Moroccan leather, patterns of discarded belts.
We tried three Moroccan wines. The vin gris, a Mourvedre from Berkane, sparkled in my mouth and washed down cheesy potatoes, melon, ham, and deviled eggs, yolks laced with herbs. The yeasty, beer-like notes felt like home. The white Vermentino from Meknes was a swirl of citrus and tropical fruit, and the red blend from Rabat-Salé-Kénitra was tart and barnyardy, with notes of prunes and cassis. And thus began our whirlwind tour of Morocco.
Wines*:
- Domaine de Baccari Blanc de Baccari (Meknes, Morocco) Vermentino
- Hacienda de Cignognes Rommani Andalus (Rabat-Salé-Kénitra, Morocco) Cabernet Sauvignon, Carignan, Syrah
- Domaine des 3 Cavaliers Berkane Florilege du Clos Hermitage (Berkane, Morocco) Mourvedre
*vintages unknown
Sense of Place 