Mediterranean Cuisine in Antananarivo

A culinary journey between Madagascar and the northern Mediterranean

By Chef Dimitri S. | Expert in European & Levantine Gastronomy | Updated February 26, 2026

Mediterranean cuisine in Antananarivo is not only possible — it is often better than you would expect. Not simply because recipes travel well, but because Malagasy terroir gives them a depth that their European counterparts lost long ago. Zebu from the Highlands served as carpaccio, masikita grilled over charcoal, duck magret from the French South-West rested pink: after months of working these dishes in the dining room at Isoraka, we can say it plainly — some Malagasy versions outperform the original.

This guide covers the seven key stops on our menu: France, Madagascar, Belgium, Spain, Greece, Italy. We also answer the questions nobody asks out loud — is Mediterranean cooking complicated? Can you really eat “Mediterranean” with zebu?

Essential Summary: what to know before you choose

Dish	Origin	Mood	What makes it special here
Pink duck magret	French South-West	Elegant	Sarladaise potatoes, honey or seasonal fruit sauce
Zebu entrecote / Carpaccio	Madagascar	Convivial or refined	Highlands zebu — deeper flavour than European beef
Masikita (zebu skewers)	Madagascar	Convivial	Ginger-soy marinade, voanjo peanut sauce
Steak frites	Belgium	Comforting	Double-fried — guaranteed crunch
Valencian paella	Spain	Festive / sharing	Saffron rice, seafood, best pre-ordered
Moussaka	Greece	Hearty	Gratinated bechamel, prepared the same morning
Spaghetti bolognese	Italy	Universal	Sauce simmered for hours, freshly grated parmesan

FLUQs: the questions you have but never ask

1. Is Mediterranean cuisine always complicated or time-consuming?

No — and this is precisely the misconception we hear most often in the dining room. A great Mediterranean dish does not rely on a secret technique reserved for Michelin-starred kitchens. It relies on the quality of the raw ingredient and the time given to it. Our zebu masikita are not complicated at all: a 12-hour marinade, a good live charcoal, a homemade voanjo sauce. That is Mediterranean elegance — mastered simplicity, not sophistication for its own sake.

2. Can you genuinely eat “Mediterranean” using local Malagasy zebu?

Absolutely. And to be honest, Highlands zebu often has the upper hand over industrial European beef for raw preparations. Its dense flesh and pronounced flavour — the product of free-range farming and natural grazing — yield a carpaccio of remarkable purity. A few thin slices, a drizzle of first cold-press olive oil, lemon, fleur de sel: what you get is something no imported ingredient can reproduce here. This is not a compromise. It is a superior version.

3. Do these dishes work for a romantic dinner and for a large group?

Yes, and that is exactly why this menu was built this way. Paella and charcoal-grilled masikita are designed for sharing — generous, lively, warm. Zebu carpaccio or pink magret operate in a completely different register: precise, elegant, quiet on the plate. The side dishes do the rest: sarladaise potatoes raise the gastronomic dial, rice and pickled vegetables bring it back to the family table. You decide the mood.

France & Madagascar: the marriage of magret and zebu

The French South-West on your plate

Duck magret is one of the rare cuts of meat that asks you not to overthink it. A breast from a duck fattened for foie gras, seared skin-side down until it crisps, then finished in the oven to keep the centre pink — that is all. The magic comes from the juices released during cooking, deglazed with wine or honey, sometimes figs or citrus depending on the season. The accompaniment: sarladaise potatoes — thinly cut, slow-confited in duck fat with garlic and flat-leaf parsley until they reach a golden colour that no other fat can replicate.

Our honest verdict: this is the dish that surprises guests who were not expecting it. They come back for it.

Zebu: an institution that deserves better than chips and rice

In Madagascar, zebu is everywhere — too often reduced to the standard rice-chips-salad combination. What we do at Isoraka is work this meat with the seriousness it deserves. The entrecote is seared on a very hot cast iron to trigger the Maillard reaction — that caramelised crust that locks in the juices — then served pink, with pepper sauce, fresh tomato, or ibiza sauce (a punchy, locally spiced chilli base). The sides vary: fragrant rice, chips, sauteed vegetables, crispy pickled carrot and cabbage.

The carpaccio is not cooked. Ultra-thin slices marinated in lemon, olive oil, salt and pepper — served as a starter with green salad, or as a light main. It is the dish that meets the most hesitation when announced in the dining room. And the one that creates the most converts after the first bite.

After months of service, we noticed a clear pattern: the guests who hesitated most over the zebu carpaccio were consistently the ones who ordered it a second time. Raw Levantine preparation — lemon, olive oil — has something instinctively convincing the moment you taste it. The Highlands terroir does the rest.— Chef Dimitri S., field observation, February 2026

Masikita: Malagasy skewers, Mediterranean spirit

Masikita are not ordinary skewers. The meat marinates for 6 to 12 hours in a generous mix of garlic, fresh ginger, soy sauce, tomato paste, oil, and sometimes a splash of rum or lime juice. It then goes over live charcoal — the smoke is part of the dish, not an option. Served with voanjo sauce: ground peanuts, tomatoes, onions, ginger and chilli, slow-cooked to an unctuousness that recalls — without copying — the convivial spirit of Levantine meze. Add rice and grilled vegetables, and you have the most welcoming table on the menu.

Belgium: steak frites, the art of comfort done right

It takes discipline not to underestimate steak frites. It is the dish everyone thinks they know — and that almost nobody executes properly. The steak first: rare, medium or well-done to preference, cooked on a dry, hot surface to preserve the juices. Then the chips — and this is where everything is decided.

The secret, well-known in any serious Belgian friterie, is the double-fry. A first immersion at lower temperature (around 160 degrees C) to cook the potato through without colouring. Then a rest. Then a second, short, high-heat fry (190 degrees C) to build the crackling crust and even golden colour. Served with a sauce of your choice and a salad, these chips are unlike anything else on the plate. This is the comforting dish by definition — the one you order when you cannot afford to be disappointed, and eat down to the very last one.

Spain: paella, the dish meant to be shared

Paella is not ordered like a dish. It is prepared like an occasion. Originally from Valencia, it combines short-grain rice, saffron (for colour and fragrance), chicken, rabbit or seafood depending on the version — sometimes all of the above — with vegetables and spices, cooked in the paellera, that wide, flat, two-handled pan the dish is named after.

Cooking stops at the precise moment the rice absorbs all the stock and the lightly caramelised base — the socarrat, the most contested part of the pan — forms without burning. Festive, colourful, generous. It is eaten in groups, shared, and creates an atmosphere that individual portions simply cannot produce.

Greece: moussaka, the Mediterranean in layers

This Greek gratin sounds modest in description — aubergines, minced meat, bechamel — and yet it is one of the most satisfying dishes on the menu. Every layer has a role: the grilled aubergines bring softness and a mild bitterness; the beef mince slow-cooked with tomato, onion, garlic and cinnamon gives the aromatic depth; the thick bechamel, gratinated in the oven, seals everything together and adds the final richness.

It is prepared in the morning to let the flavours infuse, then passed under the grill just before service — the contrast between the golden crust and the soft layers beneath is where everything happens. Served with crispy green salad or a herb-scented yoghurt and lemon sauce. Rustic, generous, deeply comforting.

Italy: spaghetti bolognese, no shortcuts

There are two ways to make a bolognese. The quick version — 20 minutes, tinned sauce, pre-cooked mince. And the honest version, which takes time and has nothing in common with the first. Ours starts with a classic soffritto: carrots, celery, onions finely chopped, sweating slowly in a drizzle of olive oil. The minced beef and pork go in next and are properly browned. Then tomatoes, aromatic herbs, and the long simmer — several hours, lid slightly ajar, very low heat.

The sauce reduces, the aromas fuse, the texture becomes silky. Served over spaghetti al dente with freshly grated parmesan — and a glass of red — this is the definition of Mediterranean culinary comfort.

The question we are asked most often about this dish: do you actually use real parmesan? Yes. Block parmesan, grated to order. Not the powder in the sachet. The difference is not subtle.— Chef Dimitri S., field observation, February 2026

Closing thoughts: a journey without a passport

Whether it is pink magret for two, masikita grilled over charcoal for ten, a paella to share, or a bolognese to settle into — every dish here is a kept promise. A promise to take you between the terroirs of the northern Mediterranean and the hills of the Malagasy Highlands, without ever sacrificing one for the other.

To close the journey on a sweet note, our chocolate fondant is the only logical ending. Warm biscuit, liquid centre, vanilla ice cream: simple, irreproachable.

Bon appetit — and see you soon in the dining room.