The best yet.

At Greenwood Avenue, the Danforth is more African than Greek. From the outside, the Casablanca Cafe isn’t much to look at, but as the waiter proudly explained, it is  the original establishment of a now-thriving series of North and East African spots in east Toronto. “There are Arabs in here from everywhere. Algeria, Morocco, Iraq…” he said, adding that they cheer for whichever Arab nation is in the World Cup.

Feeling, and looking, decidedly un-Arab, my buddy and I settled into the front of the cafe. All around us, mellifluous Arabic sounds from the other patrons and from the melodramatic Moroccan music videos playing on the t.v. screens. The atmosphere is really chill, we look at the menus, and settle on chicken tagine. It comes in a covered clay pot –  a stew of chicken, with tomatoes, lemon, parsley, eggplant and spices – fragrant and fantastic. I can’t believe we are the only ones eating. But that’s because the other patrons are really here for the shisha.

The waiter brings the hookah, along with the nugget of “double apple” flavoured molasses-y tobacco mix, and sparks it up. My friend and I are new to this experience. But he’s a veteran smoker and takes to this easily, drawing the smoke, making the water at the bottom of the pipe bubble, and exhaling extravagant plumes through his nostrils like a dragon.

It takes me a little longer to get into the rhythm. You have to suck on the pipe pretty hard, hold the flavoured smoke in your mouth, then breath out as you wish – nose, mouth or both – as the smoke swirls around your head. We drink superb sweet mint tea and chat, and the pipe lasts us an hour. Shisha isn’t a stimulant – we’re not talking hashish here – but the taste is pleasant and you have no choice but to take deep breaths in and out. Between that, the relaxed mood, and the tea, it feels like a spa.