A Night in Morocco

That's what it felt like at Aziza, the gorgeous restaurant on Geary and 22nd Avenue.
I'd been wanting to go there for a long time. So we drove out to the foggy Richmond, lucked into a parking space, and met Matt and Rachel for a magical dinner.
My cocktail (like everything on the menu, described in the most spartan of descriptions): vodka, peach, mint. Oh, the yumminess. A refreshing drink for summer, yes indeedy.
The small plates: a salad of beets, watermelon balls as delicate as jewels, and avocado dressing. A rectangle of goat cheese alongside a dramatic smear of tomato jam and a sprinke of crushed pistachios; the four teensy toasts alongside were not quite sufficient. Luckily, the hot triangles of flatbread that accompanied our spreads (a mild chickpea, a garlicky yogurt-dill, and an addictive piquilllo-almond) were replenished as needed.
Entrees included chicken and lamb for the boys and a silky halibut cooked sous-vide for Rachel. Me, I chose the dreamy vegetarian couscous with its perfect grains, chickpeas, carrot and rutabaga, sweet raisins and spicy harissa.
Not exactly Morocco, as we braved the fog heading back to the car. But a nice runner-up.