The name tells you everything about Ifrane's self-image: a restaurant called Chamonix, in Morocco, and nobody finds it odd. This long-running spot in the centre of town serves a dependable mix of Moroccan standards — tagines, harira, grilled meats — alongside pizzas, pasta, and other European dishes aimed at the university crowd and weekending families from Fès.
It is not fancy, but portions are generous, the service is quick, and in winter it is one of the warmer rooms in a famously cold town. Handy after a day at the Michlifen slopes or a walk in the cedar forest, and one of the few places reliably open through the low season.