By Annie Bennett

In medieval, Moorish Cordoba, it was hard up against the Mezquita and the Alc?zar, the administrative centre of the city.

Stroll today in any direction from the Mezquita and you find yourself in streets where Jews once lived; narrow streets of white-walled houses and tiny patios behind wooden doors, with red roofs sprouting grass between their tiles.

The Jews were there - in an area still known as the Juder?a - because the Muslims trusted them. Having been persecuted by the Visigoths, who had barred them from trade on pain of servitude, the Jews welcomed the Berber forces who landed in Spain from the year 711. In many places, indeed, Jews were left manning conquered cities so that the Berbers could continue their advance.

In Cordoba, where Andalusia's most important Moorish dynasty, the Umayyads, made their capital, Jews and Christians had leaders who reported to the Muslim powers but were largely left to run their own communities. For the first three or four centuries of Moorish rule, at least, the two minorities benefited from imperial condescension; they were seen as colourful but irrelevant.

If Muslim supremacy was unchallengeable, there was fierce debate about everything else. It was a time of huge advances in maths, astronomy, philosophy and language. The first Hebrew grammar, building on developments in Arabic, was compiled. The first great works of surgery were written, forming the basis of what would be taught in British hospitals until the 17th century. Irrigation systems were developed that would still be in use in southern Spain until the widespread adoption of the diesel pump 30 years ago.

Key figures from that "Golden Age of Cordoba" are remembered in the Museo Vivo de Al-Andalus (Living Museum of Al-Andalus), a quirky little collection housed in the Torre de la Calahorra, a tower across the river from the Mezquita. Among them are Ibn Rushd, known as Averroes, a Muslim scholar renowned for his commentaries on Aristotle; and Maimonides, a Jewish rabbi, physician and philosopher. I met both - or at least their wax dummies - and heard their thoughts voiced on an audio tape. The American and toffee-English accents, in which Cordoba became Cordohba and its patios became pateios, didn't make for easy time travel, but I still got a sense of Cordoba's having been a powerhouse not only of politics but of learning. I also saw a scale model of the Mezquita as it was before the priests got their hands on it, and a painting that conveyed some of the splendour of the Madinat al-Zahra, an Arabian Nights fantasy that now lies in ruins on the outskirts of Cordoba.

Begun in 936 by the Umayyad caliph Abd al-Rahman II, the Madinat was razed by a mob in 1009. Between then and the early 20th century, when excavation began, it was plundered many times by jobbing builders. In its pomp, however, it included palaces, a mosque, gardens, a zoo, an aviary and weapons factories. One of its centrepieces, "the hall of the caliphs", was lined with tinted marble slabs and had a pool of mercury that could be stirred so as to send flashes of light around the room.

Down the terraces, through what they say they had been the "Guard Corps, the "Stables", the "House of the Pool", the "Hall of Abd al-Rahman"... But which were the work of Abd Al-Rahman's 10th-century builders, and which had been mocked up by 20th-century archaeologists? its impossible to tell. As the British Arabist Robert Irwin has put it, "some of the walls are still standing (and such is the progress of archaeology that more walls seem to be still standing each time one visits the place)".

Unesco has been considering extending to the Madinat the World Heritage status enjoyed by the city centre of Cordoba; if the houses stay, that extension could be withheld.

More controversial still is a proposal from Spanish Islamic groups to build on land close to the Madinat, with money from Saudi Arabia and other Arab countries, what would be the second biggest mosque in the world, turning Cordoba into a European Mecca, or, as the Spanish daily ABC, which disclosed the plan put it, "Al-Andalus con petrod?lares".

For the moment, even by pilgrims of a more secular mind, Cordoba is rarely seen as a destination in its own right; it's en route to somewhere else, worth a day or so to take in the Mezquita before they head on to Seville or other parts of southern Spain. This is partly because it doesn't sell itself well, but also because it has habits more characteristic of a big town than a small city.

Arrive on a Sunday afternoon and you find every shop shut. At about 6 pm wander through the Plaza de la Corredera, a magnificent enclosed and arcaded square. One side was lined with parked bikes and scooters, the other with their owners drinking and chatting and strumming guitars at caf? tables.

Make a mental note to stop there for a pre-dinner drink.

The restaurants are quiet, too so Plan to eat in turned out to be closed on Sunday evening. Others people either pack up or are so short of custom that I reckoned they couldn't be any good.

There is a new hotel and gorgeous combination of 16th-century architecture and 21st-century decor, and with exceptionally friendly staff. The city, might help to persuade tourists to stay longer. So might the fact - if only Cordoba shouted it louder - that this is the culinary capital of Andalusia.

Food has been taken seriously here for a long time. Witness the exhibits on domestic life at the Casa de Sefarad, a tiny memorial to Jewish culture next to an equally tiny synagogue.

Among them are pronouncements from Maimonides in his treatise El R?gimen de Salud - The Healthy Diet: "One of the rules 2026 is not to eat one meal on top of another, not to eat unless justified by hunger.

It's advice that modern-day Andalusians could take to heart. In the local paper, Diario C?rdoba, is reported that nearly 20% of Men and 23% of Women in Andalusia are overweight.

The temptations are great. In El Churrasco, one of the city's best-known restaurants. Moreish as well as Moorish, that's Cordoba.