In Cambridge at least, all roads lead to Mill Road: an escape from the trappings of collegiate life, the street is the heart and soul of the city food scene. And so we converged in excellent company, under the shade of our week five o’clock shadow, onto the finest the street has to offer, nearly sacrificing ourselves in the name of our art by being almost flattened en route.

Henry

What wasn’t a sacrifice was the food itself, because al Casbah is a restaurant specifically designed to be enjoyed with friends – not one for the lone restauranteur. Under arcs of billowing fabric and butterscotch lantern lighting, al Casbah, cousin to the equally excellent Bedouin up the road, invited us in with an aroma so divine it turned us immediately into some of Pavlov’s finer specimens (compounded by my seating facing the grill). And this was all before the food had even reached our table.

“I had to be forcibly restrained from prying Zach’s spoon out of his hand and licking it clean myself”

After a palate-cleansing assortment of pickles (crisp and refreshingly tart), we were entreated to the meze: diverse and hospitably generous (more than enough for three sizeable blokes), with a brilliant depth of flavour characteristic of all the dishes. The sprawling spread, comprising rich heaps of smoky flatbreads, dollops of silky hummus and baba ghanoush, satisfyingly crunchy falafel (and much more besides) left us feeling as stuffed as the vine leaves. I, closet queen of the double dip, very nearly reached my lowest ebb as I had to be forcibly restrained from prying Zach’s spoon out of his hand and licking it clean myself.

Before we could collect ourselves from the opening salvo, we moved swiftly onto the one-two punch of the mains: the couscous royale, and the special, the brochettes casbah. Both alike in dignity, the dishes complemented each other perfectly: the couscous, lusciously accompanied with an apricot sauce, unfolded like a hug from a long-lost great aunt – warm, kind and subtly aromatic, an encouraging and sunny supply of vitamin C for the cold winter months ahead. The brochettes, en l’autre main, were meticulously spiced (especially the harissa sauce, which cured once and for all my latent sinus infection), the carnival of the animals cooked so tenderly that it practically sauntered off the bone onto my plate, with the finer points (especially the deliciously fragrant pickled peppers) bringing it together to a hale and hearty whole.

In true form, the only possible way we could convey our appreciation is not with a photograph before, but a photograph after (included below): plates clean, job done. Impeccable. I love being a restaurant critic.

Zach

‘Breaking bread’ has always been a social enterprise. And indeed, since I cannot claim to possess a gourmet’s palate, I shall preface my review with a romanticisation of ‘going out to dinner’ with friends. Indeed, when Henry first asked me to join him in writing for Varsity’s foodie scene, I was most enthused by the picture of an evening across from a tweed-bedecked mathmo, buried in debate about mid-century American theatre.

“A particular highlight was the Algerian speciality, bourek”

The evening got off to a strong start, as we traipsed across Parker’s Piece for a moment away from the focussed singularity of Cambridge life. There is certainly a satisfaction of setting out for dinner – rather than rolling down our staircases to Hall – and an added benefit in window-shopping ourselves back up Mill Road afterwards. Notwithstanding our collective inability to reserve a table in advance, we were soon seated in the busy al Casbah.

While not bedecked with the wall-to-ceiling carpets of its sibling, al Casbah retains a distinctive, North African charm. The bright space was dominated by a large charcoal grill, enabling us to take in the sights and smells of the restaurant’s signature flavours before we’d even ordered. Joe was drooling before we’d even been offered menus, despite them arriving with the promptness that characterises al Casbah’s warm and friendly service.

Sensibly, we agreed to order three dishes for the table (with respect to Joe’s hawk-eyed modus operandi: “one divides, the others decide”). The meze starter was first up: a vibrant selection of chickpea houmous and aubergine dips, tzatziki and feta salad. The pan-Mediterranean cacophony of flavour was reflected by a dish as brilliant as Scherer’s palette. A particular highlight was the Algerian speciality, bourek, a spice-infused roll of pastry, served stuffed with spinach and feta. As much as he may attempt to convince you otherwise, we wiped the platter so clean with the accompanying smoky flatbread that Henry did in fact go after my spoon.

“No North African culinary experience is complete without couscous”

We had barely begun our dissection of the merits of the starter (significantly superior to Joe’s summer andouillette, we concluded), when the mains arrived. First up, the house brochettes, a selection of meats grilled before our very eyes. The tenderness of the meat, (marinated to perfection in true North African tradition) contrasted the crunchy salad and rice sides. Once again, small details stood out: I particularly enjoyed the deep reddish interior of the cumin and chilli infused merguez grilled sausage, presented as a skewer.

No North African culinary experience is complete without couscous, our final dish of the evening. Despite being slightly overawed by the chorus of meats on offer – chicken, lamb, and merguez – they harmonised with the flavours of the bouillon broth, such that the cinnamon and ras el hanout spices shone through. Matching the tenderness of the meat, the stewed vegetables provided the perfect accompaniment (and proof I’d had my five-a-day).

Three clean plates. Three full students. Verbal agreement (student budget pending) to reconvene again soon. Top marks for al Casbah, a family-run staple of Mill Road, and a culinary journey to the North African sunshine fit to stave off a grey, British November.