Casablanca

And under a new chef, Ana Sortun, Casablanca has more of both than ever before. Ms. Sortun obtained dual qualifications working for and then leaving Moncef Meddeb, the culinary man of the Magreb and co-owner of Aigo Bistro and 8 Holyoke. Since the latter place is right on the other side of Harvard Souk -- er, Square -- these partners-turned-rivals are now in the same relationship as the Casablanca characters played by Bogart and Sydney Greenstreet.

Did anyone write up the opening of the Café Americain as, "This will mellow Rick out, getting his own gin joint?" That appears to be the case with Ana Sortun, whose early menus at 8 Holyoke were brilliant, but sometimes too brilliant for actual palates. Highly flavored sandwich fillings on highly-flavored focaccia slices were overly intense for lunch. At dinner, there were times in which not a single sauce was familiar. Over the course of her time at 8 Holyoke, things calmed down, but apparently it was an imposed calm.

Now Ms. Sortun is on her own, cooking daily against her old boss, and even if you don't follow the story line, it could be the start of a beautiful friendship. It is also the most Casablanca-like food ever served in the many incarnations of this room, although it still mixes themes, as in the opening basket of pita bread and sourdough, with a cruet of virgin olive oil and dishes of cracked black pepper and coarse salt.

For appetizers, Casablanca has rounded up the usual mezze, including the cannonball kibbeh ($4.50) and marinated Provençal olives from 8 Holyoke. The former is evolving into a giant felafel, becoming starchier and spicier, although the dominating spice is still cloves or allspice. A platter of North African breads and spreads ($4.50) is ideal for drinking and wondering how to get the last airplane out of town before the Nazis close in. With your pita and crostini you can nervously flit from an avocado-cumin-lime paste, a carrot/sweet-potato-type spread, and an oniony ratatouille, all the time wondering about the shadowy character who just came in. There's a roasted portobello mushroom here, but stuffed with pâté ($5). And eggplant buñuelos ($4.50}, big fried slices like ears of tempura. Maine crab cakes ($7) were the kind with so much crabmeat they fell apart. That starchy filler has a role, you know.

For us old-timers who expect an entree for dinner, the one to have is probably the oven-roasted cod ($17.50), not that there was really anything wrong with the baked cod we used to have before this newfangled oven-roasting came in. But this buttery (and well-buttered) piece of fish was superior, and so was the fresh local asparagus (fat ends peeled, if you please), and so were the black-olive-flavored mashed potatoes. Likewise a skewer of lamb ($17) was the best around, just subtly marinated, with a superb "sauce" of raisins, onions, olives, and artichoke hearts. The lamb was also garnished by a couple of pizza-like, richly flavored flatbreads, and some perhaps over-minted couscous.

Only an entree of grilled and roasted vegetables ($15) had lost, I thought, the élan of the same platter at 8 Holyoke. The portobello mushroom was still superb, as were chickpeas in a spiced purée, but smoky grilled broccoli, underdone cauliflower, and hard, fibrous grilled carrots are not a thrill, even with tahini sauce. Grilled sweet potato was special, but grilled zucchini, our night, was not.

Casablanca has a nice, reasonably priced wine list, with lots by the glass. Two I tried were the Richemont chardonnay ($4.50; $17 for a bottle), an apply-fresh white from Languedoc, and the Tyrells Old Wine Pinot Noir ($5, $19), a very soft, light, almost sweet red from Australia.

Desserts are very good but very much in the nouvelle-Med mode, which means low chocolate. Chocolate-banana bread pudding ($6) would appear to be your best bet, but it is a high, quivering thing with the texture and richness of a steamed pudding. The chocolate part is an inner core of soufflé-textured stuff, so it doesn't provide chocolate in every bite, which some people demand.

The honey-almond flan ($5.50) makes no such compromises. It's honeyed in every bite of custard, served over shredded pastry, and garnished with liquored oranges and dates. A warm mango-and-rhubarb tart ($5.50) was encased in a cunning pastry pouch with rich, homemade vanilla ice cream on the side. And, for the truly innovative, we tried a special dessert of upside-down cake. The topping was white plums and black figs, on some rather plain cake, with a sauce of angelica crème anglaise. Angelica is a large herb of the celery family that has been candied for centuries. (It's the giant herb in the carefully researched gardens at Plimoth Plantation, for example.) It has been used to perfume soap, and thus smells like soapy perfume to me in such recipes as angelica ice cream from Chez Panisse Desserts or in this thinned custard sauce at Casablanca. But I do think every menu should have one experimental dish on it.

Service on two visits was excellent. The restaurant space is tucked into two side pockets around the bar, which many consider the soul of Casablanca. I think the soul of it has always been David Omar White's murals, of which several were added to the renovated space. His impressionistic scenes from the film match my increasingly impressionistic recollections of it. Long, long before the Rocky Horror Picture Show, students went to the Brattle Theatre in trench coats and long dresses, and stood en masse to recite the lines along with the actors.