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This venue is closed.

Tucked up a flight of stairs and behind Lounge, the boho-chic clothing shop, this Moroccan restaurant feels alluring and elusive. People trickle in at all hours — for glasses of fragrant mint tea, tramezzini on Sullivan St. bread, or decadent Payard pastries — but nighttime suits the place best. Rose petals and flickering candles scent and soften the landscape of white leather cushions and imported brass tables; giant round filigreed lamps hang like ripe fruit from the linen-draped ceiling. On one wall, Bergman and Bogie's love story plays in an endless loop. Modern-day lovers linger at the bar over cocktails spiked with blood oranges and strawberries; the restaurant obliges, sometimes staying open on weeknights into the wee hours. Perfect for tete-a-tete sharing, tapas come in tiny ceramic bowls and favor regional staples — tangy eggplant puree, chickpea salad, and merguez sausage. Warm briouats, flaky phyllo triangles packed with silky-smooth goat cheese and roasted peppers, are a particular treat. Of the few entrées, tadjine, a fatty lamb shank made subtly sweet by coriander, apricots, and prunes, is immensely satisfying. Less so is the hefty bastilla, an artfully twisted phyllo pie of mildly seasoned shredded chicken. — Kate Appleton

Chicken bastilla, $18, briouat, $9, lamb tadjine, $24