Presenting Moroccan Bastilla

When I travel, it's not always about climbing the highest mountain or taking a photo by the iconic landmarks.  For me, traveling is about indulging every single one of my five senses in the culture, the environment, and most importantly, the food.  To me, the food is a reflection of a culture's creativity, resourcefulness, history, and tradition.  Great recipes sometimes develop by accident, but sometimes they're created as a result of a fortuitous meeting between different peoples with different traditions.  Sometimes out of the clash something absolutely magical emerges.  While the kings, revolutionaries, military generals, and other leaders argue about who gets what territory, the townsfolk are chowing down on a new hybrid concoction of ingredients that restores sanity in the moment of strife.  I truly believe food is that powerful.

Now, just recently, I had the  fortune of eating an absolutely marvelous Moroccan dish called bastilla.  Before I was to set foot in Morocco, I had written down a list of must-eat Moroccan dishes and bastilla was in my top 5--yes, I had well over 10 things that I had to devour before leaving.  I arrived in Meknes after a short stay in Chefchaouen and on December 31st before the end of 2011, I saw, met, and most definitely enjoyed a moment of transcendence as I slowly crunched and gave every bite of the long-awaited bastilla the 40 thorough chews that it deserved.  It's a perfect combination of sweet and salty, moist and well-seasoned chicken with sweet and crunchy almonds, with other complementary spices giving it even more flavor, and finally wrapped in a thin crispy exterior.

Moroccan Bastilla

Another foodie Christine Benlafquih in About.com, goes on to describe it as such: "A light, crispy warqa pastry shell conceals savory saffron chicken, spicy omelet stuffing, and crunchy topping of fried almonds sweetened and flavored with orange flower water. A garnish of powdered sugar and cinnamon adds to the fabulous blend of flavors."  You may ask what the heck is warqa? CliffordAWright.com explains:

The pie is surrounded by a very thin pastry leaf called warqa (which means "leaf"[also paper]), the top of which is sprinkled with powdered sugar and a lattice-work of ground cinnamon. Warqa pastry begins as a spongy dough that is tapped or slapped against a hot convex sheet of pounded metal, a kind of pan called a tubsil set over a hot charcoal brazier, in a series of overlapping concentric circles to form a large film of pastry. This collection of leaves, now forming a whole thin sheet, is carefully but quickly peeled off the metal and set side.

So how did this amazing dish come about?  According to CliffordAWright, the etymology of the dish's name may have several different origins.  When I first heard bastilla on a trip in Morocco's shamal (north), I thought it was referring to the Spanish word pasteles or pastries.  It could very well be that the dish, like many words that are part of the Spanish language and Moroccan Arabic dialect, is a product of a blend of several cultures, which co-existed together sharing their culinary know-how.   There's also a possibility that a similar sounding word was in use in Berber dialects for their chicken with saffron combos.

The history books tell us that the dish or some derivative of it was eaten by both the rulers of the Berber dynasties and even Spain's King Phillip II.   The dish somehow disappeared from the Spanish diet perhaps due to the expulsion of the Jews and Muslims from the Iberian Peninsula, but the Hispano-Jew and Hispano-Muslims who crossed over the strait or went further into the Mediterranean took the recipes with them and adapted the dish to the available ingredients in their new homes.  Since historically it was a dish for royalty, even in contemporary Morocco the dish has kept its luster as it is generally served only during special occasions.  The dish emerged in some shape or form in other parts of the Mediterranean even as far as Turkey as noted by another culinary anthropologist Claudia Roden who munched on pasteles made by some Turkish Jews.

I like to think that as empires, dynasties, and nations quarreled about the politics, taxes, and territorial boundaries, Berber Muslims, Jews, and Christians were probably enjoying a nice plate of bastilla.   CliffordAWright goes on to say, "Contemporary Moroccan cuisine is essentially an Arab and Hispano-Muslim cuisine set upon the foundation of an older and simpler Berber sustenance diet, with outside influences from sub-Saharan West Africa and colonial-era France." Seems like the best tasting things in life come about when people meet and share recipes.

As such, if you're reading this blog, it's just as if we had stumbled upon one another.  I've been fortunate to have had Moroccan bastilla in the region where it was born, but there's no reason, wherever you may be, why you can't munch on this delicious cultural mélange and its wholesome goodness.  Good luck, safe travels, and enjoy!

My Unfinished List of Moroccan Culinary Treats: Mint Tea, Marinated Olives, Pure Olive Oil, Chebekia, and Harira

Moroccans are proud of their cuisine and they should be; it's some of the most tasty, best seasoned, and diverse in the Mediterranean.  Sometimes you need to take a drive to experience the diversity, and if you do, you'll certainly be rewarded.  Below is just one list of many lists to come.

I actually did not cook a lot of Moroccan food while in service, but was a happy recipient of a lot of home-cooked meals.  In most cases, the kitchen was off-bounds for me so I had to ask other female volunteers or search the web for insight into the magic that was taking place behind closed doors.  As I sit back and reflect on my two years of Peace Corps service, the cuisine is something that I'll surely miss.  However, even though I am back stateside, there's no reason why I shouldn't try to recreate the magic.  I'm going to give it my best shot.  Some of the items listed have links to recipes and preparation videos so I invite you to do the same.  Enjoy the read and enjoy the food!

Aatay b na na (Moroccan Arabic name for their sweet-as-molasses Moroccan mint tea) a.k.a. "Le Whisky Marocain"

Some Moroccan Tea at the Cascades of Ouzoud

Moroccans cannot be separated from their tea.  If the price of tea were to go up or if the government were to impose a tax on the consumption of tea, without a doubt there would be a massive revolt.  It is a Moroccan staple that is unlikely to change for many years to come.

No matter where you go, there will be countless invitations to share a little tea.  In the cold winters, there's nothing better to warm you up or to give your body a sugar jolt.  At first, I was really turned off by all the sugar, but then I began to miss the taste of their tea and towards the end I would get on the garçon's (waiter) case about skimping on the sugar.

The distinct taste is a result of two main factors.  Unlike the American or British tradition of pouring hot water over the leafs or herbs and letting it brew in the mug, Moroccans brew their green tea leaves in their ornamental teapots, they then add a brick of sugar and brew it a little longer, and then they turn off the gas and add fresh mint (naa na), verveine (luiza), or other seasonal herbs like wormwood (chiba) - the stuff they use to make absinthe.  All three varieties are super delicious and healthy if you cut down on the sugar.  I invite you to try them all.

You may also find that many Moroccans don't blow on their tea to cool it; instead, they slurrrp it.  It took me a while to master the technique, but essentially you breath it in as you drink it and it has the same cooling effect if you do it right. BssHA (To your health) on your tea drinking! 

Mountains of Olives

Moroccan black olives

Seasoned Moroccan green olives

Morocco is blessed with the perfect climate to produce some of the finest olives in the Mediterranean.  Their seasonal winter rains and clear, blue summer sky are ideal for the sun-loving olive groves.  For someone who was a fan of olives already, arriving in Morocco and seeing heaps upon heaps of olives at the souq (market) was such a comforting and overwhelming experience.  What's even more mind-blowing is how great each variety tastes and even more amazing than that is how cheap they are.  Your typical U.S. supermarket stocks various sizes of green Spanish olives or bland black ones.  In contrast, most Moroccan markets showcase their largess in rows of olive peaks of light and dark green olives marinated in a mix of red peppers or lemon and parsley, purple olives, and the bitter and wrinkly, but flavor-packed black olives. 

Moroccan cuisine incorporates olives into their meals quite well.  I remember one day during my Community-Based Training my host mother marinated a whole chicken with onions, peppers, lemon rinds, and a dash of saffron and other spices, placed it in the oven with all the seasonings and then brought out a golden brown chicken that was surrounded by a moat of tangy chicken broth on an innumerable amount of green olives bobbing in suspension just asking to be devoured.  I had this meal over two years ago and I can remember it as if it was yesterday.  What a delicious feast!

Unadulterated Olive Oil

Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of Moroccan olive oil.  In terms of appearance, it looks a lot like the olive oil from Spain or Italy.  Some oils are filtered more than others.  Personally, I liked the strong bitter taste of some of the country-pressed oil that had undergone less filtering.

A typical breakfast in Morocco consisted of fresh out-of-the-oven bread that was then broken up and dabbed over olive oil.  Not what you would typically eat as breakfast in the U.S., but oh was it tasty.  The hot, toasty bread dunked in a little oil would simply melt in your mouth and the aroma of the oil was so wonderfully pleasant.

With such a large supply of olives, olive oil can be found everywhere also for much cheaper than you would find at U.S. or European stores.  I am surprised that Moroccan olive oil has not made it to U.S. stores yet.  According to the latest "Free Trade" deal between the U.S. and Morocco, olives and olive oil were going to be one of the few commodities that would start flowing to the U.S.  I hope it does, and I hope it does soon.

Ramadan Sweet Treats: Chebekia

When I arrived in Morocco back in September of '08, I got in about mid-way through Ramadan, a month characterized by the dawn to dusk no food or drink fast and more religious observance.  As you can imagine during the day, most people in the streets deprived of any liquids or food are moving in slow-motion careful not to exhaust their reserves.  When I first heard of Ramadan, I wasn't aware of the liquids ban and thought, "Now that's extreme." Then, later on I was invited to break the fast with my host family and tasted my first chebekia and thought, "Now that's extreme flavor!"

Even the bees are crazy for chebekia

These golden brown rolled and folded fried cookie dough treats smothered in honey and sprinkled with sesame seeds were a wake-up call to my taste buds.  No MSGs necessary to go on a binge.  These confections are naturally addicting.

Sometimes I think that I should go on an anthropological expedition to find out how different foods came about.  Is there a National Geographic show or something on the Food channel on this?  Well, if there is, the next episode should focus on these crunchy, sweet hard-to-put-down confections.  Until a show reveals the history and evolution of this delicious Moroccan delight, I will thank the culinary God(s) for giving my fellow Moroccans this bit of divine inspiration.    

In my old town of Sefrou, I could buy about a quarter kilo for 5DH (less than $1) from a old medina hole-in-the-wall Hlwa hanut (sweets vendor), and I would typically finish it in one night.  If I wanted some with real honey instead of syrup, I would shell out about twice as much at a fancy patisserie for about the same amount.  It's a dieter's worst nightmare.  Mountain Dew wouldn't stand a chance against these guys in jacking up your blood sugar so unless you're going to expend the calories, eat responsibly.

Click here if you wish to see a recipe.  Fortunately, if you're on your way to Morocco, no need to wait until Ramadan; most patisseries and some old medina Hlwa street vendors carry them year-round.

Harira

Whenever someone utters the word harira, my mind automatically drifts to my first bowl ever where I learned the art of eating it with bowl in hand, swishing it around in circular motion, and then giving it a hearty slurp.  In the cold Moroccan winters, it was a lifesaver.  When I was broke, it would stave off a growling stomach without breaking the bank (2DH or 25 cents for a bowl).

Harira, harira, hariraaaaa!!!

Tomato serves as the base, but with cilantro, parsley, ginger, onions, chickpeas, lentils, carrots, celery, and a handful of vermicelli all mixed in, it's much more than a tomato soup; it's a bonanza of flavor that is full of substance.

Harira is also very common during Ramadan.  Generally, families break the fast with a bowl before moving on to other life-reviving foods.  Not to worry though, harira can also be found year-round at most restaurants, hole-in-the-wall harira vendors, and a lot of families make it to survive the winter.  Some will add a bit of harsha (the equivalent of American corn-bread) to it or will break apart a chebekia on top.  Others that like the sweet and salty combination will simply eat some dates while slurping a mouthful of harira.  There are many ways to experience this hearty soup.  If you're unsure how to approach it, try them all!

Do try this at home! Click here for the recipe.

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Before I wrote this entry, I thought about ranking the items, but then I thought about how silly rankings really are.  I mean how do you compare chebekia to couscous; they're on two different playing fields and my rankings were in constant fluctuation as one couscous tasted better or different in someone's home than it did in someone else's.  Also, every region in Morocco prepares things slightly different depending on the availability of ingredients.  I still have a lot more food items that I need to write about.  This list is bound to grow in the coming months and years.

Thanks for reading and again BssHa (To your health) on your culinary endeavors.

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I found a few bestselling books on Moroccan cuisine on Amazon.  According to one reviewer, Paula Wolfert wrote a textbook-like guide to Moroccan cooking back in the 1970s that is still the authoritative book.  Some of the newer ones have better pictures, but may not be as authentic.  Check them out!

  

The Shamal Series: Asilah

When I was first told by my recruiter that I was nominated for an NGO development post in Morocco, I immediately thought of the great desert dunes of the Sahara, the oases, camels, and the hot sun.  I was looking forward to this change of scenery.  For most of my life, I had lived with green all around me.  

Once I found out that Morocco would be my home for the next two years, I began to do a little research.  I learned that Morocco did indeed border the Sahara, but there was so much more than just sun and sand.  It had towering snow-capped mountains and lush river valleys, fertile plains and beautiful beaches, and because of its geographic location, it had been a crossroads for many dynasties, empires, kingdoms, and merchants who brought with them their culture, religious traditions, architecture, and diets creating a vibrant region that like its zellij is a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors, and like its ganawa, the people move to the sound of syncopated rhythm.

In my short time here, I've been able to zig-zag throughout the northern countryside stopping by to catch a few waves on the Atlantic coast in Asilah, to chill and marvel at the blue city of Chefchaouan sitting on the jagged peaks of the Rif Mountains, to travel back in time walking through the Roman ruins of Volubilis, to take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the medieval old city of Fes, to descend to the center of the earth by way of the Grotte Friouato, to reach the source of the best tasting sparkling mineral water brewed by the thermal springs near Oulmes, and to walk lazily through the Chellah Sanctuary and the Unfinished Mosque of Rabat.  These are just a few of the sites I've been fortunate to visit.  There are many more that I have yet to see.  Inchallah (God willing), I'll take a trip to the Mediterranean coast sometime in the summer.  


For the sake of keeping these entries short and sweet, I will only entertain you with my recent trip to Asilah.  Stay posted for more destinations in the future.  So without further ado, here are some pics, comments, and suggestions on the Morocco that few think about when they think of Morocco, the bountiful, stunning, and the unforgettable shamal (north).

Kicking it back in Asilah

Last summer a group of volunteers made plans to do a little vacationing prior to the month of Ramadan.  A few suggested Al Hoceima on the Mediterranean coast, others Tangiers, and another group pushed for Asilah.  Luckily, Asilah came out as the winner.  A couple of the reasons why it won was due to its easy access and its cosmopolitan vibe.  Every year the town hosts an international contemporary art and cultural festival that brings artists from around the globe and allows them to use the walls of the old fortress medina(old city) as their canvas.  In addition to the murals that don the city, the festival is filled with music and dance.  Last year, a band of Mexican musicians brought mariachi to the streets of Asilah.  Unfortunately, when I went, the festival had just come to an end, but the murals were still up.  It was like walking through an art museum except you were outside in the open air and every painting was humongous.



Outside of the old city, Asilah has a long beach-front promenade with tall palm trees, cafes and restaurants, and decorated with flags from all over the world.  The sunset on the beach was beautiful.  I should note that if you plan to check out the sunset on the beach, be sure to get back to the lighted promenade before it gets too dark as it is prohibited to walk the beach at night.  Apparently, for safety concerns and cultural reasons, the police prefer that lovers take their loving to their hotel rooms.   


As a beach resort town, seafood is widely available at a reasonable price and because of the large influx of Spanish tourists that frequent the city, the restaurants can prepare it paella-style.  I'm a fan of the street food and sometimes I pay dearly for it, not monetarily speaking but rather through bouts of indigestion.  This time around, hamdullah(thanks be to God), I had no problems after eating about 20Dh worth of pastilla from a street cart.  It was a scrumptious taste of heaven.

The highlight of the trip was by far our short trek to a nearby beach called Paradise Beach.  It lies about 5k south of Asilah.  The grand taxi goes through some rough terrain before dropping down from the Asilah plateau to a wide expanse of sand and what looked like water-reed bungalows.  We arrived early morning when hardly anyone was there.  We parked ourselves in one of the bungalows, which provided lounge chairs, boogie boards, and that also threw in some lunch for a total of 60-70Dhs.  Once we got situated, we took our boogie boards and headed straight for the waves.  In the morning, we had to run a good 100 meters before reaching water.  By evening though, the waves were at the door of the bungalow.  The water was a bit chilly, but with the hot Moroccan sun bearing down, I barely felt cold.  The waves were phenomenal, great for boogie boarding, and good enough for a number of surfers.  At about 6PM, we reluctantly returned to Asilah and took the party back to our apartment.


I had a seafood paella in the evening.  A few of us pitched in to drink a little brew and then after some dancing and mingling, we headed out to stroll the promenade.  At the beach there was a small carnival of rides.  We hopped onto the bumper cars, and then after a few high-adrenaline rides inflicting whiplash on one another and our Moroccan friends, we exited the rink and got on a spinny ride--a decision that at first seemed like a good continuation to our night at the carnival, but would later be the decision we would all regret.  

We boarded the spinny ride contraption and anxiously awaited the start.  At first the ride began by gradually speeding up and elevating us.  As we gained speed, we felt ourselves sinking deeper into our seats as we probably pulled a little g-force.  Most of us at that moment still had smiles on our faces, some of us had our hands up, and our feet were waggling from side to side and others were simulating running in open air.  The ride continued to rise to the point where we were now at a steep diagonal.  The operator turned down the speed of the ride so that we could all enjoy the liberating feeling of free-fall.  Normally, this feeling is the most exhilarating part of the ride, but as my body dropped, my stomach, full of food and brew, felt as if it was lagging behind and rising up to my throat with every drop in what now seemed like a torturous, ill-conceived, and never-ending ride.  As we neared the end, our smiles turned to distraught faces that appeared ready to spew out everything in our upset stomachs.  Some of us held it together and others released.  I turned to my zen meditation and began breathing deeply.  The meditation saved me from unleashing my stomach's wrath all over the ride, but the calm only lasted for a brief moment because once I reached the apartment, I stopped fighting it and ultimately succumbed.

I will forever remember the Asilah promenade, the humongous murals, the squeaky clean old city, the b(p)astilla and paella, Paradise Beach, and the spinny ride.  In fact, I enjoyed it so much that I may just do it all over again with the exception of the spinny ride.


Trip Essentials:


Transpo: ONCF Train service is available to Asilah and I highly recommend it.  CTM buses also pass through on their way to Tangiers.  Non-CTM buses like Njeme Chamal also run regular routes from Marrakech, Fes, Casablanca and Rabat.  


Hotel: There are a number of cheap hotels.  We stayed at Mounia Apartments, which were fully decked out with kitchenettes, western toilets, showers, and balconies facing the promenade.  Everything worked well.  I can't recall exactly how much it was per person.  Let's just say it was on the expensive end for PC standards, but well worth it.


To learn more about Asilah, visit: http://www.morocco.com/attractions/asilah/
       

Making Couscous

Every Friday in Morocco families gather to celebrate their most revered day of the week. Often extended family comes to munch on a delicious serving of couscous usually topped with chicken, beef, or lamb and veggies doused with a tasty broth.

In one of my Dances with Wolves moments, I decided to find out the source of this scrumptious meal. I wondered, "Does couscous grow on trees? Does it rain from heaven like mana?"  I needed to know. Thankfully, one of our fellow volunteers knew the path to the origins of couscous. I and several other never-miss-a-couscous Friday convert took the pilgrimage to Khoukhate, a small village near Zaida that had begun teaching the steps to reaching a culinary nirvana of couscous making.

Khoukhate is a small valley of green with nothing but an arid wilderness to one side and towering desert plateaus to the other. When climbing onto the plateaus surrounding the village, it appears as if the ground level plane suddenly collapsed and the spring that gives this village its life carved out a beautiful and bountiful oasis. So bountiful, according to the locals, that the village for the most part is self-sustaining producing its own fruits, vegetables, and staple cereals like corn and wheat. Both the men and women labor in the fields, but when it comes to preparing the labor-intensive, time-consuming, but utterly gratifying couscous, the women take over.

There are many pre-packaged couscous varieties at the market that can be put immediately onto a couscoussiére, steamed, and served within a couple of hours. Couscous being such a central part of Moroccan tradition, I felt I needed to learn how to make it from scratch. Back in my home-stay, my host family gave me a five-minute step-by-step guide to make couscous, but I was not able to practice partly because I would have been the only guy with a roomful of older ladies toiling away on the flour. Not that I mind hanging out with older ladies, but at that particular point I was just getting to know my family and trying to understand the nuances of Moroccan culture and gender roles; so instead, I went out in typical Moroccan fashion with my younger host brother to a café to pass the time people watching until it was time to eat.

Whenever we would get back, I would pig out on the couscous as usual sometimes forgoing the meat that everyone sought out for more couscous. Sometimes I felt that I was in a couscous eating contest, but I wasn’t doing it to win any prize; it was pure self-motivation. To make things worse, when the family saw me slowing down, they aided and abetted my gluttony by adding more broth to my couscous so that it could go down easier and then offering the customary bssHa(To your health) as I stuffed my face.

Needless to say, I’m a fan. Back in the states, I purchased the 5-minute pre-steamed variety to spur things up a bit as a substitute for rice. I enjoyed it then; however now that I’ve had the real thing cooked Moroccan style, I’m hooked. Not wanting to revert back to the 5-minute boxed couscous, I went out to Khokuhate to learn the craft of couscous making alongside other couscous fans.

A group of fellow PCVs got together at the Association Ennahda for our couscous making class. The women's association with the help of a PCV is looking to draw tourists and study abroad groups interested in learning about Moroccan culture and experiencing it first-hand.

The association hosts the cooking classes, sells a whole wheat herb-infused couscous, zmita, and different types of jams. To learn more about the association, please click on the associations link above.

The association's president, who was going to lead the class, had already gathered the pots, pans, sifter, meats, veggies, spices, and Khoukhate's own milled whole wheat flour.

She poured the flour onto the ceramic couscous serving dish. Then slowly began sprinkling a bit of warm semi-salty water throughout swirling the flour with her other hand as it began to clump up.

Once there were enough clumps, she got sifter to separate the clumps from the flour. The clumps were then dumped onto several water reed baskets, which we all began pressing and rolling in

classic Karate Kid 'wax on, wax off' style adding a bit of flour from time to time so the granules would not stick together.

Then when the clumps were pretty much

gone, we dumped our baskets onto a sifter so that the sifter could filter out the right size couscous granules.

We repeated the process until we felt we had enough for a couscous feast.

Then, all the rolled and sifted couscous was put into a couscoussiére, kind of a two-tier type pot where chicken and veggies are boiled in the bottom pot while the couscous rests on the top tier pot, which is designed to allow the steam to seep in through its perforated base making it possible for the couscous granules to get nice a steam bath.

After 30 or so minutes, there was a gap between the couscous and all around the edge of the pot, which meant that it was time to fluff it out. The couscous was dumped onto the ceramic serving dish. After a thorough hand wash, I dug in and began to fluff the couscous.

The purpose of the fluff, of course, is to loosen the couscous so it doesn't become one big massive pasta ball and to move it around so all the couscous granules can get a better steam bath. This process was repeated three times.

Once the couscous was done, the chicken and veggies were cooked through, and the broth was ready, a little saffron was added to the couscous and then placed on the large ceramic couscous serving dish(I'm sure it has a name, but I can't recall it at the moment). The chicken came next, then the veggies, and finally a bit of broth was poured all around.

We quickly said our grace, which in Morocco is a simple Bismillah (In the name of God), and then dug in. A few of us tried to pick up the traditional way of eating couscous, which involves grabbing a bit and moving it and rotating it around to create a small couscous ball that you then pop into your mouth or use to start a couscous fight.

As usual I stuffed myself, but was outdone by fellow PCV Steven who claimed the title of last man standing. All in all it was a great learning experience. My hope is to replicate it in the States Inshallah (God willing) so y'all can partake of what I plan to make a tradition of mine: couscous stuffing Fridays.

The Slurrrrrp

Medina Harira

I remember the day when I was handed my first bowl of harira, a dish that ranks up there as one of my all-time favorite Moroccan dishes. It´s a chunky tomato-base soup with chickpeas, lentils, onions, parsley, some vermicelli  and sometimes with a bit of meat.  I proceeded as I normally do with my soups to dab the bread and to munch on the dunked portion. I went about it without a care in the world completely immersed in the smells and the warmth of the soup. I was focused on my bowl, my bread, and devouring it all. As my tunnel vision began to dissipate with every bite, I remembered that others were at the table with me. I looked up from my bowl and saw my host family staring at me. I carried on with my bread dabbing, but much slower this time. As I placed the doused bread in my mouth again and savored the bite, everyone began to laugh. I laughed along with them and then tried to tell them in my limited Arabic how delicious the bread dunking really was.

My host father then proceeded to show me his way of eating the soup which involved grabbing the small bowl from the bottom, swirling the soup around in a gentle circular hand motion, and then to avoid the burn sssslurrrrping it with authority. I saw the rest of my family do the same so I decided to give it a go. My first initial slurps were painful lessons that quickly taught me to create the great vacuum that would enable me to slurp the scolding hot soup without having my lips, tongue, and throat suffer 3^rd degree burns.

Moroccan mint tea aka Le Whisky Marocain

Although I have burnt the roof of my mouth and tongue on occasion, it has not deterred my will to master the slurp. The slurp is not only used for soups; it is also commonly heard in many cafes where hot sugary mint tea and coffee are served. Often, when several teapots are delivered at the same time, you can hear for a very brief moment a symphony of slurps. There is the full, open, and loud slurp that is usually followed by a deep sigh of contentment, and the shallow, less overt slurp that is usually accompanied by a measured sip and a comparable sigh. I have also noticed that some simply seem to enjoy slurping and engage in what other Moroccans regard as long somewhat overdrawn slurps. My host father from my home-stay would probably fall in that category. Every here and then, we would compete to see who could generate the most volume and who could drag it out the longest.

Not everyone in Morocco slurps and I have encountered some Moroccans that dunk their bread like I do. I continue to dunk my bread, but I have also added the slurp into my eating and drinking repertoire. It feels good to slurp and to have Moroccans offer a bssha or “To your health” as I do so. If you haven’t slurped loudly and freely in a while or ever, I invite you to do so. Forget the spoon, grab the bowl or mug, swirl it around a bit, and then slurp like there is no one but you and your soup, tea, coffee, or whatever it may be. If you get some strange stares, tell them that this is how they do it in Morocco.