Atlantica - 01.10.2006, Síða 39

PARIS a
AT L A N T I CA 37
tells me over a delicate lamb tagine. “And people
in Paris used to say to me: ‘Wally, take me to the
Sahara’. They were not interested in the food
then. They wanted the sand and the camels.” M.
Wally became a successful tour operator, taking
French tourists into the deep desert until the trou-
bles in Algeria made the area unsafe for visitors.
So M. Wally returned to his adopted city and
opened its only restaurant specializing in food
from the Sahara. He has had a lot of press cov-
erage over the almost 30 years he has been in
business, and a wall on one side of the restaurant
is devoted to words of praise by journalists who
love his take on the region’s cooking.
“Our couscous is much fluffier,” he offers by
way of explanation. “You don’t need any broth
with it.” Obligingly, I try a forkful of the mound
sitting at my place. It is the best I have tasted,
fluffier and softer than any of the drier versions
in other restaurants that I need to hydrate with
broth.
M. Wally’s cooking is so famous that he doesn’t
even have a menu to speak of. Patrons show up
and he serves them the same Saharan specialties
he has been preparing since 1970: stuffed sardines,
couscous and pastille, a traditional pigeon-filled
pie. “It’s not up to the client to choose,” says M.
Wally firmly. “It’s up to me. I think one of the
best things about my restaurant is that there is
no menu.”
Our conversation moves to talk of the legend-
ary Saharan hospitality. “In the Sahara there is
no water, and so of course there is no fish,” he
begins. “So when strangers or friends come to
stay, we give them water and we give them fish,
to show our hospitality. If we find a man wander-
The menu at 404 waxes lyrical on
the romance of North African
cuisine: “It can enchant and
delight, and even cure.”
(Continues on pg. 39 »)
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