TINY MEATBALLS, BIG FLAVOR: Ground incredibly fine and redolent of cumin and coriander, the kofta at Fez packs a flavorful punch. Credit: jamesostrand.com

TINY MEATBALLS, BIG FLAVOR: Ground incredibly fine and redolent of cumin and coriander, the kofta at Fez packs a flavorful punch. Credit: jamesostrand.com

It's a Thursday night in downtown St. Petersburg and Central Avenue is lively. Maybe not hopping, exactly, but there are enough diners and revelers around to outnumber the usual parade of full-time downtown "residents" who repeatedly walk the circuit throughout the night. There are families and couples at sidewalk tables and live music streaming from the doors of bars.

Step into newish Moroccan restaurant Fez, however, and that lively atmosphere instantly fades away. The place is dark as a cave, with just a single table occupied in the back of the dim room, feeling more like a private club during off hours than a restaurant serving the under-represented cuisine of North Africa. That changes a bit during the weekend, when Fez hosts a belly dancing troupe, but most of the time the atmosphere deadens the interesting food created in the kitchen.

Fez is owned by Charles Marco, the guy behind Fortunato's next door, and was originally slated to become another Italian restaurant. Marco was never excited about that idea, despite his background. "I just realized that once I opened up the other side that would be the end of my life," he said. "And the last thing this neighborhood needed was another Italian restaurant."

He had a chance meeting with the owner of another Italian restaurant in Tampa, Moroccan ex-pat Karim Nouri. After Marco commented on that ethnic disparity, Nouri told him that he should open a Moroccan restaurant. That little jibe blossomed into a relationship that had Marco open Fez with trained chef Nouri in the kitchen. And far from killing him, Marco waxes poetic about the restaurant's food.

Nouri's menu is classic Moroccan, based largely around the cooking style that has become synonymous with the cuisine — meats braised slowly in small clay ovens called tagines. Much of that is served with rice on the side, scented and stained a sunshiny yellow by saffron, but there's also fluffy couscous that can be paired with chunky vegetables or more meat. Many of the dishes feature a signature Moroccan technique of combining sweet elements with savory ingredients. And, almost across the board, Fez executes its small menu with significant skill.

Confront that sweet/savory continuum head on by starting with a classic pastry stuffed with shredded chicken and dried fruit. It's doused in a hefty dusting of powdered sugar to heighten the natural sugar of the fruit, seasoned with heady and fragrant cinnamon across the flaky pastry, the experience marred only slightly by the dry texture of the meat. Fez also does the Moroccan national soup — harira — better than most, the rich broth dotted by bits of vegetable, grain and chicken that's wet enough to escape the pastry's problems.

Lamb tagines come in two styles at Fez, one a simply braised and lightly seasoned shank, the other cooked with dried fruits. Both are perfectly tender and incredibly simple, the meat falling off the bone and infused with a basic braising liquid that adds texture but little flavor to the beast. Same with Cornish game hen or any of the other meats — the preparation is so basic and hearty in these classic dishes, they can seem a bit dull.

That's not the case with Fez's kofta, the tiny meatballs of Morocco. The meat is ground incredibly fine and redolent of cumin and coriander, with a basic tomato sauce providing sweet and tart notes. After the rest of the meal, each bite of these is a punch of decadent spice. It's almost enough to make you wish the Moroccans seasoned all their food this heavily.

Couscous is tender and moist, with a bright and salty dressing that adds some oomph to the continued parade of well-cooked but somewhat bland meat and veg that comes on top of the steamed grain. Here, those subtle seasonings are more welcome, allowing the couscous to express its wheaty, toasty character alongside the accompaniments.

After the meal, though, another blast of flavor comes from Fez's traditional hot tea, poured into tiny glasses packed with crushed mint leaves. The sweet tea rolls into your head with the power of the mint and spices, threatening mouth-burns thanks to the speed with which you want to shoot it back. It's a satisfying way to end a comforting meal.

That should spell success for Fez, which does justice to a niche cuisine amidst absolutely no competition. And with another new Moroccan place in Tampa — Marrakech, opened last year — I'd like to say that Fez could indicate a new surge in the Bay area's previously nonexistent North African restaurant scene. But here I am, sitting out on the sidewalk, knocking back another glass of tea while trading pithy comments about current events with a rotating crew of shirtless sidewalk dwellers, wondering how a restaurant can make a go of it in the crowded downtown scene with only three tables full during Thursday night's prime time.

Marco isn't too worried, however. "On weekends the place fills up," he said, "and it's been well received." When I ask him if Fez is doing as well as he predicted, he displays the usual pessimism of any restaurateur in this tough climate: "It's been doing better than anticipated, but far from where I need it to be."