Story by Mary Richardson

Photos by Mary Richardson
and Dian McDonald

oroccan cooking has always seemed exotic to me. I have dreamed about wandering through crowded medinas filled with gold jewelry and richly-hued carpets, experiencing a cacophony of sounds and smells — cinnamon and coriander mixed with sweet perfumes and pungent leather.

For the aspiring cook, there would be bushels of spices, plus many varieties of briny olives, and rich dates from desert oases all over Arabia and northern Africa. I wanted to be one of those cooks, mixing the colorful spices with fresh herbs and lamb or chicken to create dishes that could please a sultan.

To make that dream come true, I enrolled in a Road Scholar trip to Marrakech called “The Best of Marrakech: Colorful Culture in the Red City.” I was pleased to find that it included a cooking class. The other 15 participants and I were going to make chicken tagine and mint tea from recipes that had been developed centuries ago by the Berbers and Arabs who settled Morocco.

The Road Scholar program offers educational travel adventures all over the world, melding sightseeing with lectures and classes. We spent our first couple of days in Marrakesh walking the labyrinth of the medina, and exploring the astoundingly beautiful old palaces full of original Arabian tiles and designs. Then lectures on Arabic architecture, Moroccan history and other topics deepened our understanding of this alluring foreign red-hued city. A Moroccan woman named Widad Mazrag was our guide and answered our steady stream of questions from her point of view as a young, professional Muslim woman.

For our cooking adventure, we left the cosmopolitan (albeit ancient) Marrakech and traveled into the Moroccan countryside to a community that adheres to conservative Muslim values. There we met nine courageous women, all Sunni Muslims, who had defied the traditional roles for women in order to create a better life for themselves and their families.

In 2010, seven women had banded together to form the AlKaram Cooperative (“AlKaram” is an Arabic word that means generosity.). They were given a building by King Mohammed VI, and operated through the king’s program to help rural women, the National Initiative for Human Development.

Each woman brought a particular skill to the co-op, such as baking bread or making couscous. Together the women created items they could market and sell, thus creating funds to help them become economically independent.

Today there are nine women, all working in the co-op on a daily basis. Life is not easy. Many people in the village resent the women’s efforts to earn their own income and so have boycotted the co-op’s products. We were told that the husband of one co-op member now refuses to have anything to do with her. He won’t eat her food and he won’t talk with her.

Nevertheless the women continue to work. Part of the co-op’s income comes from providing cooking classes for organizations such as Road Scholars. They also sell baked goods and other products. The co-op’s specialty is couscous, sold in several varieties, each enhanced with different herbs and spices.

In 2011, King Mohammad VI came to the co-op and gave them a boost in prestige. He tasted their couscous, declared it the best in the country, then bought all they had. Still, even the King’s approval hasn’t softened the rejection from many villagers.

There was no way to detect any of these troubles when the women met us in their modest but spotless facility. They led us to the kitchen, and, with big smiles, put us to work. We were divided into groups of four and each team was given a large tagine — a tall, conical unglazed earthenware pot that hasn’t changed in shape since nomads in North Africa used them over wood fires eons ago.

Earthenware bowls held all the ingredients we were going to use and intoxicating smells wafted toward us. There were generous quantities of turmeric, ginger, black pepper, parsley, cilantro, and olives, plus preserved lemons – an essential ingredient for Moroccan cooking. (Preserved lemons are rare in our local grocery stores – although available on Amazon, of course. But delicious ones can be made from Meyer lemons in Louisiana. Recipe follows.)

First came the shallots and cloves of garlic. Our instructor demonstrated how she wanted us to cut them up and we went to work. When she was satisfied with our efforts, she told us to tuck chicken pieces into the shallots and garlic. We passed around the bowls of spices, sprinkling liberally.

We were creating works of art. The rich gold of the turmeric contrasted with the lighter gold of the ginger. The tawny colors of the spices made the dark green parsley and lighter green cilantro look luminous. The yellow preserved lemons had lost the sour acidic flavor and were zesty, savory and salty. We arranged them attractively on top of our creation.

We poured water and two types of oil into our tagine and carefully placed the conical top so that it made a good seal. The women of the co-op put our tagines on the gas burners and said they would call us back when they were almost done so we could add a copious quantity of green olives to our dishes.

We were invited into the reception room for herbaceous mint tea and cookies.

Sweet Moroccan mint tea has nothing in common with the American practice of throwing a mint tea bag into a cup of boiling water and calling it done. Brewing Moroccan tea is a long and complex process.

Sweet mint tea is commonly served all over Morocco, but the tea we were served at the co-op is more rare. It had a lot more in it than just mint. They added a garden full of herbs!

The process begins with Chinese green tea, sugar, and herbs – a large, fragrant bouquet of rosemary, rose-scented geraniums, mint, sage, and one unfamiliar to me called absinthe. Later I found out it is Artemisa Absinthium, also called wormwood, and it’s the herb used in the infamous green, 90+ proof, Absinthe liquor. (Seeds for Artemisa Absinthium are available for $2.50 on Etsy.)

The tea maker – the only man allowed inside the co-op – stuffed the entire bouquet of herbs into a highly polished silver Moroccan tea pot, then added the green tea and the sugar. He poured a small cup of boiling water over everything. In less than a minute, he poured off the tea, and set it aside. That was the “core tea flavor,” Widad explained. Then he poured another cup of boiling water over the mixture, but this time he discarded it. That was to clean the tea. Then he poured water and tea back and forth, in constant motion for about 20 minutes.

The tea-maker’s show amped up when he filled the tea glasses. He began the pour by holding the pot low, about level with the table. Then, with a flourish, he raised the teapot above his head, all the while pouring a thin stream of tea into the little glass. He was creating bubbles. Widad called the bubbles a “turban.” “If you don’t see bubbles in the tea, don’t drink it,” she said. “The bubbles mean it’s fresh.”

We had been eyeing a platter of beautifully shaped butter cookies, another specialty of the co-op. The women passed them around and each kind was a melt-in-your-mouth experience. Most of us “had” to taste several of each variety in order to fully appreciate the distinctive Moroccan ingredients of rose water, almonds, and local honey.

We had finished all but the crumbs when the women called us to get our tagines and bring them to the tables. We lifted the conical lids and the heady scents of Morocco filled the room. The chicken was falling off the bone into a sauce of the spices and shallots, accented by the salty olives and preserved lemons. The women served their traditional Moroccan bread, perfect for sopping up every drop – which we did.

We were smiling. The women were smiling. Earlier in a language class, Widad had taught us the word “shukran,” which translates as “thank you.” Now the word “shukran” reverberated around the room. We all seemed to be saying it at the same time to every women in the co-op. Through food, we had immersed ourselves in the rich, sweet culture of Morocco, and cooking these foods together had united us. I wished I knew the Arabic words to say, “I had a wonderful time and I am filled with admiration for what you are accomplishing with this co-op and yes, I think the food we cooked is fit for a king, a very lucky king at that.” But my one word would have to do. I joined the chorus of “shukran,” and hoped the women understood.

Chicken Tagine

(Adapted for Dutch Oven or large covered skillet. If you happen to have a real tagine, increase the water to one cup. This recipe is for one chicken, but other pieces can be used. I used enough chicken legs to approximate the size of a chicken. Chicken livers are especially tasty in this recipe.)

1 cut up chicken

5 chicken livers (opt)

1 or 2 onions or 4 shallots, cut in large pieces

4 garlic cloves, roughly chopped

1.5 tsp. turmeric

1.5 tsp. ground ginger

1 tsp. black pepper

1 tsp. salt

1.5 tsp. Ras el Hanout spice (opt)

1 cup parsley, chopped

1 cup cilantro, chopped

4 preserved lemons.

¼ cup vegetable oil

¼ cup olive oil

¼ cup water

1 cup green olives, pitted

Directions:

Pour ¼ cup vegetable oil into Dutch Oven or large covered frying pan

Add cut up onions or shallots and garlic.

Place chicken pieces (and liver) on top of the onions.

Sprinkle with spices

Sprinkle with parsley and cilantro

Pour ¼ cup olive oil over everything

Rinse preserved lemons well. Discard lemon pulp. Rinse peel and cut in wide strips. Arrange on top of chicken.

Place on medium heat and bring to a boil. Turn temperature to low.

Cook about one hour or until the chicken is falling off the bone. (If using a tagine, it may take longer.)

Check to see if there is enough liquid in the bottom of the pan. If it is dry, add more water. If there is a lot of liquid, cook uncovered on high until liquid is reduced. The liquid should be the consistency of a sauce, not a broth.

Add olives.

Cook till olives are warmed.

Serve with bread, rice or couscous.

Preserved Meyer
Lemons

Small Meyer Lemons

Kosher Salt

Spices (opt)

Directions: Prepare the jars you want to fill by washing in the dishwasher or sterilizing with boiling water. (I use pint canning jars with wide lids.) Choose enough smallish (smaller ones are easier to pack into the jars) Meyer Lemons to fill the jars. Cut the lemons into quarters but don’t cut quite to the bottom, so it opens like a flower.

Stuff each lemon with lots of kosher salt, then stuff as many lemons as you can into the jars. Squeeze the lemons down to release their juice. If the juice doesn’t come up to the top of the jar, add more lemon juice. You may add additional spices such as peppercorns, cardamon seeds or a small hot pepper (only one!).

Close the jar with a tight fitting lid. Store at cool room temperature for three to four weeks. Turn the jars upside down every day, if you can remember. After three or four weeks, the rind will be tender and they are “done.” Use only the rind and rinse before using; discard the flesh. Store in the refrigerator after opening.

Preserved lemons are a very good addition to rice, in addition to use in almost all Moroccan dishes.