Eating My Way Through Brooklyn

A friend of mine calls living in Brooklyn like “living on a resort—you just walk out your door each day and decide what country’s cuisine you’d like to enjoy.” I see his point. He decided on Moroccan Saturday night. We went to the Olive Vine in Carroll Gardens (316 Court Street). Wonderful. A warm beet salad that was so earthy, savory, and subtly spiced. I happen to love beets; I know a lot of people don’t, but this was incredible. The fresh bread comes all puffed up like a mushroom. You pull it apart or puncture it with your fork and it flattens to something like Indian naan bread. And the babaganoush—words cannot express. I know, I know, how different can a babaganoush actually be? But I’m serious, this was like nothing I’d ever had before. There was a haunting, smoky flavor to it that made it want to lick the plate. The tajine chicken was so tender it fell from the bone. I opted for it with artichoke hearts, peas, and olives. My friend had his with golden raisins and onion, a very sweet combo—when it cooled, it tasted like apple pie.