When travelling it’s often the spontaneous events, the unplanned, the chance meetings and getting lost which result in the most memorable experiences. When venturing disorientated through the heights of the High Atlas we found ourselves having to make a hasty stop to let Bee-bee’s overworked brakes cool down. We unavoidably blocked the street in a tiny Berber village; “Mafi Mushkele” (“no problem!”) came the jovial response from a group of men carrying out maintenance work on a clay and stone house. The reek of burning brakes emanating from the car must have signalled that we weren’t moving anywhere for a while. As the workmen downed tools, accompanied by a chatter of Arabic and some gestures, we understood them to be inviting us into their home and to join them for breakfast. Berber mountain houses are unassuming, clay and stone dwellings with several small rooms surrounding a central courtyard. We stooped through a low doorway into a sparse room with only a low table, a TV and a hazardous gas burner balancing a kettle. The seven of us made ourselves comfortable on plastic woven matting while a shy woman ushered into the room timidly carrying a tray of food. Warm, soft, homemade bread was torn, shared and dipped into clear, rich, nutty Argan oil harvested from the surrounding hills. A small plate of salty goats butter with a distinct pungent blue-cheese taste was also generously applied to chunks of bread amidst chatter, gesticulations and excited pointing and animated discussion over our photo album from home. Breakfast was washed down with copious glasses of mint tea from a seemingly bottomless pot; the hot gunpowder tea and green-flecked infusion so sweet it made your gums twinge. As we left, youngsters scampered down the road with makeshift toys consisting of plastic bottles on wheels attached to a long stick. They weave and steer down the bumpy track with the skill and pride comparative to a child with the latest super-powered luxury radio controlled toy car hundreds of miles away.
The people expected nothing in return, a sharp contrast to the streets of Marrakech and Fes where just asking for directions comes with a price. Children here were not the cocky, street-savvy, dirham-hankering kids of the cities but shy and wary, peeping over walls in their ‘fun-size’ traditional dress. We departed leaving small gifts of notebooks and pencils for the children which the family reluctantly but appreciatively accepted; a small token incomparable to the memorable hospitality and welcome we had received. It put smiles back on our previously stressed faces as we fired-up Bee-bee and lurched ahead on our uncharted way. Emma
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Leaving the pasta and noodles in Bee-bee, I was invited to join a Moroccan chef in his restaurant kitchen to learn how to prepare two classic Moroccan dishes; Tagine and Couscous. ‘Tagine’ is actually the name of the conical-shaped earthenware dish that the meal is served in, similar to a ‘Casserole’. The fish tagine is made with red mullet, potatoes and olives with a tomato based sauce prepared with cumin, parsley, paprika, garlic and pepper. The lamb tagine has a ‘sweet’ sauce created with ginger, cinnamon and saffron and presented with caramelised prunes topped with toasted sesame seeds. Nothing is measured exactly; olive oil is glugged and water splashed into the pan with rough handfuls and pinches of spices thrown in; the importance is to taste throughout the cooking and adjust the ingredients to your liking. There is no ‘leave to simmer for an hour’ while you put your feet up; constant stirring, adding water, tasting and seasoning is only interrupted by a quick mint tea break. Forget your Ainsley Harriet ‘add boiling water and stand for 4 minutes couscous’; the authentic version takes around 2 and a half hours. The couscous is steamed slowly in the top part of a ‘Kaskas’ pan as the vegetables cook underneath. The traditional couscous which families share on Fridays contains 7 vegetables and is beautifully presented in a circular, symmetrical pattern on a huge shared plate with chickpeas in tomato sauce sprinkled over and topped with a mouth-watering caramelised onion and sultana ‘T’fia’. Drive through any village at meal times and Tagine stalls flank the street, the decorated terracotta pots lined up on charcoal grills along the counter. Those with a tomato placed on the top have been ‘reserved’ earlier in the day. Couscous is eaten in the tiniest hole-in-the-wall cafes to the swankiest 5 star restaurants across the whole of Morocco. A huge “Shukran” to executive chef Younes and his chef Sommaya from Hapimag Marrakech for their expertise and teaching in Moroccan cuisine. To have a go at Moroccan cooking we have attached some home made PDF recipes below. Bon Appetit! Emma Lamb Tagine Fish Tagine Couscous Royale |
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