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!

The Shamal Series: Chefchaouen, Meknes, and Tangiers

With teaching responsibilities done for the 2011 trimester, I took advantage of my two-week break to head down to the Land of the Far West, a.k.a. Morocco.  Because my incoming and outgoing flights were both out of Tangiers, I chilled out in Morocco's shamal (north) for the entire trip.  As I've shared before in previous blogs (Shamal Series), Northern Morocco certainly does not fit into the stereotypical desert oasis image of Morocco with its rolling hills of sprouting winter wheat and grass, lush coastal plains, snow-crowned mountain peaks, and temperatures that chill you to the bone.  The shamal offers plenty of beautiful scenery along with the always delicious Moroccan cuisine and famous hospitality. 

 

The shamal was once part of a vast region called Al Andalus that extended through much of the Iberian Peninsula consisting of modern-day Spain and Portugal. The Muslim Caliphate of Cordoba held much of territory since the 8th century before the Spanish Reconquista gained full control late in the 15th century. Fast-forwarding to the early 20th century, much of the shamal was under a Spanish Protectorate regime from 1912-1956. Given the long history between the peoples and political powers of this region, it is no surprise to see vestiges of Spanish influence in the architecture, especially in Tangiers as you will see in several photos. This is also a region where Spanish more so than French is heard in the street (Tangiers and Chefchaouen, not Meknes), which for me was nice to hear and made it easier to get around when my darija or French failed me.

On this latest trip, I got to spend more time in Chefchaouen hiking the mountain horns on which the city rests, got to sightsee around Meknes visiting the mausoleums, granaries, plazas, and their majestic and enormous gates to its medieval city.  I also got to reconnect with old friends over some scrumptious pastilla, some nus-nus (half expresso & half milk) coffee or the famous sweet & bitter green tea at the mostly all-male cafes, and towards the end got to walk around the Tangiers medina. All in all, it was a great trip aside from the usual gastric disturbances.  

 

Below are some of my favorite pics. Thank you for reading the blog and keep on traveling!

 

 Meanderings around Chefchaouen or Chaouen as the locals say

 

 

In and around Meknes

 

Meknes - Mausoleum Moulay Ismail

 

The Granaries

 

 

Moroccan Pastilla in Meknes

 

 

Back to Tangiers or Tanja as the locals say it

 

In Jordan: "Special Price for You"

It was interesting to see different prices for different people posted for all to see throughout Jordan. All of the national parks I visited had prices for both foreigners and for locals. For instance, for visiting the ruins of the ancient city of Petra, foreigners were asked to pay 50 Jordanian Dinars (JD) or $70 for a one-day visit with an overnight or 90JD or $127 for entry to Petra without an overnight stay in Jordan-- I was told that the 90JD rate was set up to discourage Israelis or other Western tourists from crossing the Israeli border for just a day's visit.  In contrast, as far as Jordanians go, they were asked to pay just 1JD or $1.41 (Nov. 2010 exchange rate) every time they entered Petra.

At the Dead Sea tourist beach that I went to and wrote about, they charged me nearly three times more, 15JD or $21.15, whereas my Jordanian counterparts were asked to pay 4JD or $5.64. Even all the way in their southernmost city of Aqaba, the beach parking asked that foreigners pay 4JD while the locals paid a single JD.

Some of the travelers I ran into along the way did not like this price difference and thought it was discriminating to pay more for the same access or service at various sites.  They would often say that a policy of that sort would never fly in a Western country; everyone pays the same price no matter who you are or where you come from.  Actually, when I thought about it, even Morocco didn't have different price schemes for foreigners (at least not posted officially). The expectation in many tourist destinations in Morocco was that you would haggle for your ideal price, a process that economists call dynamic pricing and business folks call capturing the right amount of value.

I had mixed feelings about the issue. On the one hand, I can see why a government would seek to exploit something that is so unique and so in demand to generate revenue for the government. The question then is do the people benefit from the extra revenue or is it eaten up in government bureaucracy? A number of Jordanians I spoke to argued that it was probably the latter.

Also, a higher sticker price can stem the flow of tourists thereby reducing the environmental impact of tourist traffic and keeping the country's fragile historical treasures intact.  However, that does not seem to be the case for Petra. In fact, just last year a Jordan Times article reported a 42% increase in tourist traffic at Petra National Park during the first six months of 2010 in comparison to the same time period in 2009.  The Art Newspaper worries that too much traffic may endanger some of the most remarkable sites in Petra like, for instance, the recently restored and preserved one-of-a-kind Dionysiac wall painting found in the Siq of Little Petra. I was fortunate to visit the site of the painting thanks to our licensed tourist guide.

  

Dionysiac painting in Little Petra

 

Another Jordan Times article goes on to say that the Petra Development and Tourism Region Authority (PDTRA) plans to use some of the funds to rehabilitate sites and upgrade services to enrich visitor experience, and that the new price scheme was setup with those needs in mind as well as the needs of the kingdom.  In essence, there seems to be little effort to cap numbers, and when things are going this well, why would it restrain the flow even if it's for environmental concerns?

 As for the locals, I think it's wise that the Jordanian government mandate a reduced price for its citizens because the current foreigner price would put many sites out of reach for many Jordanians.  Reducing the price also encourages domestic consumption of tourism-related services thereby boosting the local economy.  Not only is it good for the economy, I think it's wise that a country's citizenry be well traveled and know their country and fellow countrymen and women.

For the meantime though, if you're a foreigner traveling in this foreign land, get ready to pay up. But take it from me, floating on the Dead Sea is an experience like no other and walking through the Red Rose City is once again something for which there is no equal.  Did it hurt to pay? Yes! Was it worth it? Absolutely!

Chowing Down Some Jordanian Maqlouba

Sometimes when you travel, you set goals for yourself as to what you'd like to accomplish that day. Let's say for example you're in Paris. In Paris, you must, of course, visit the Tour Eiffel, Sacré Couer, Moulin Rouge, and perhaps other landmarks. Some people get a kick out of going to these historical, architectural wonders. I too enjoy taking in the scenery, but other times I like to indulge other senses. So when I woke up in Kerak, already on my third day of what was supposed to be a one-day visit, I got up with only one goal in mind— EATING MAQLOUBA!

The Peace Corps volunteer (PCV), Peace Corps trainee, and I had a very light breakfast so as not to spoil our hunger. Last time when I was treated to mansef, I was not as hungry as I could have been. I didn't want to make that mistake again. Jordanian families like Moroccans don't just suggest that you eat more; they order you to eat and I was planning to comply.

We walked to the Christian part of the town and arrived at the home of a Christian family that had befriended the PCV.  Upon entering, we were engulfed by an assortment of aromas indicating that something good was in the works. Our empty stomachs were ready. The father took us directly to the dining room, seated us, and then called his grand-kids and son to the table. The mother was still rummaging around the kitchen setting the table and giving a large pot its final stir.



Maqlouba

Then came the moment we were all waiting for: the unveiling of maqlouba. The mother brought over a the large pot and a serving tray, placed the serving tray on the pot, and flipped the contents of the pot onto the serving tray in one swoop. In front of us was a mix of Jordanian basmati rice, fried cauliflower and eggplant, and what looked like pan-fried chicken. It looked messy, but it smelled delicious.

Jordanian Maqlouba

The mother and father went about filling our plates. I savored every bite trying to take in all the flavors and spices. I ate and ate until I could eat no more. Everything in that dish was so juicy. The cauliflower and eggplant were cooked just right. The chicken had been seared, but it was still tender. It was a wonderful combination of ingredients that produced another Jordanian masterpiece.

Shortly after filling our stomachs to the brim, the mother brought over some pitch black Turkish-style coffee. A sip of that and any desire to lay down quickly dissipates, and perhaps it was given to us for a reason. Any normal person would simply collapse after that meal. We still had to walk a few kilometres back to the PCV's house.

Jordanian Red Bull - Turkish style coffee

The father told us that he had private classes starting in a few minutes. That was our cue to go, but not before exchanging hugs with both the father, mother, high-fives with the two young boys, and thanking everyone profusely for the marvelous hospitality they bestowed upon us.

Our gracious host

Once again, I thanked my lucky stars and the cosmic forces of the universe for what had just transpired. I didn't see any tall buildings or historical landmarks, but I was fortunate to have been the recipient of some amazing Jordanian hospitality. Muslim or Christian, they have given me the best that they could offer and did it out of the kindness of their heart. We shared stories, ate together, and sipped a little coffee or sweet tea to cap our encounter. I'll forever remember maqlouba and the folks that made that day a day to remember.

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Click here for maqlouba recipe Jordanian style.