My best friend at the beginning of my studies in Germany was a Moroccan girl named Leila, with unique curls and very talkative. She used to tell me endless stories about her love-hate relationship with her Persian boyfriend and I used to give her advice that she never followed. Every time they came back from a visit to his parents in the next city, she brought me amazing home-made Iranian food with her, consisting of rice cooked in a special cooker, mixed with lamb or other types of meat. We used to sit on the floor and eat the meals together, she was always talking and I was listening (more or less) and eating (definitely more). The Leila restaurants (here and here) remind me of her, especially when I dine there with my current best friend(s).