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Part One: Food in Morocco

Moroccan cuisine has been nurtured by centuries of Mediterranean influence

The history of Morocco has always been closely intertwined with the history of the Mediterranean. As a veritable crossroads of civilizations—an asylum for the Andalousian Jews and Arabs who were chased out of the kingdom of Grenada at the end of the 15th century; later a French Protectorate until its independence in 1956—Morocco offers an exceptional example of generosity and harmony. This multifaceted country reflects diverse regional, ethnic, and social influences, all of which left their mark on its past. It is this variety that gives Moroccan cuisine its unparalleled reputation. Moroccan cuisine is considered to be one the finest in the world and some of its most celebrated dishes have justly taken their place among the culinary classics of the world.

Porters from Telouet carrying couscous and bread to a diffa (banquet).

The “Isle of the Sunset,” Djerirat-al-Maghrib as the first Arab geographers named the land that would become Morocco, offers the traveler very diverse landscapes. First, there is the Atlantic Ocean lapping the shores in the west; then there are the Atlas and Rif Mountains that enclose a vast amphitheater reaching from the southwest to the northwest of Morocco; further south, the immense deserts that are still inhabited by nomadic peoples; and finally the central regions that spill out to the ocean where alternating plateaus, plains, and valleys have favored the development of culture and the rise of great cities.

The first inhabitants of Morocco were the Berbers who were invaded by the Omeyyad Arab dynasty of conquering warriors. Their empire reached from the Indus to the shores of northwest Africa. They built Muslim Spain and created a great civilization that reigned over the southern half of the peninsula and over Andalousia in particular.

In the eleventh and twelfth centuries, the Almoravid dynasty of Berbers, followed by the Almohad Berber dynasty, succeeded the Omeyyads as rulers of the Muslim territories in North Africa and Spain, and were responsible for the unification of Morocco.

The symbol of Marrakech and of Morocco as a whole, Jemaà el Fna Square bustles every evening with food stalls selling skewered meat, soups, snails, and much more. Jugglers, fire-eaters, snake charmers, storytellers, and monkey trainers add to the nightly spectacle.

Sub-Saharan Africa also left its mark on Morocco, trading its gold and other riches: the caravans that converged on the North included large numbers of women from Mali or the Sudan who would become the peerless dadas, the cooks who hold the secrets to the Moroccan kitchen.

It is this social and geographical diversity, and the peaceful cohabitation of different ethnic groups, that has enabled such a fine cuisine to evolve.

From north to south, Morocco offers travelers a wealth of contrasting landscapes. From the harsh winters of the Rif Mountains to the blazing caress of the Sahara, each region has developed its own ways with food, even if there are many elements that are shared from one province to the next. Mechoui (barbecued lamb) or kessra (bread) may be found in every region of the kingdom but the recipes have been adapted to suit the conditions in which they are made.

Take couscous—the national dish—for example. In the countryside, the ruggedness of everyday life imposes a sense of humility in the preparation of the dish: dried fava (broad) beans replace garbanzo beans (chickpeas) while dried meat (gueddid) replaces the tenderer, subtler, and more expensive fresh lamb.

The coastal regions have developed their own original couscous called kasksou baddaz, in which dried sweet corn replaces the traditional semolina. In addition, fish from the Mediterranean or Atlantic enriches the dish.

Austere desert life also contributes its own touch. In the regions where man must often content himself with a few dates and a little milk, couscous is accompanied by small fresh dates (kuran) that are baked until almost candied. There are even varieties of couscous made from barley or rice, again reflecting the heritage of the dadas.

In the furthermost regions, meat is rare and dishes are invariably flavored with spices. Here, visual appearance is paramount. All the senses are called upon to appreciate these attractive dishes with their heady aromas. Cooks are as skilled in marrying tastes as they are in assembling colors.

The result is a cuisine that is festive and sensual. Some claim it even possesses medicinal qualities. Arab doctors have always made use of certain foods to cure their patients, without losing sight of the question of taste. One of them, Al-Rasi, hit upon the idea of coating medicinal decoctions in sugar to make the remedy more pleasant.

Religion has also played its part in shaping the eating habits of the Moroccan people. Religious directives addressed the issue of food early on and certain restrictions came into force. Pork is forbidden, as is any animal that has not been sacrificed in a religious rite—Jews refer to this sanctified meat as “kosher,” Muslims call it “halal.” Despite their solemnity, religious celebrations are also at the root of a number of original recipes that are served at specific times of the year. For example, it is with harira that the fast imposed by the month of Ramadan is broken every evening. This soup, both delicious and nourishing, soothes the hunger of the day and brings members of the family together. On these evenings, and much to the delight of the children present, pastries such as grioch, shebbakiya, selou, and sfenji are also served.

It is in the great imperial cities that the Moroccan art de vivre reaches its zenith. Note the words of a civil servant from the finance ministry in 1885: “Thus at last, Great Chamberlain, will the preparations to welcome the Sultan be concluded. No fewer than thirty-three dishes will follow: salads, couscous, pastilla, tagine of poultry, meat, fish [...]. Scoundrels from backwater provinces will be left speechless before such abundance and magnificence and they will admire with near religious devotion the white bread served for the occasion.”

Large meals, or diffa, follow an immutable ritual: salads are served one after the other and then make way for the famous pastilla (pie) of pigeon. This is followed by mechoui (barbecued lamb), various tagine (stewed dishes), the couscous, and, finally, mouth-watering pastries.

This shop in the Aït Ourir souk (market) east of Marrakech offers tagines cooked over kanounes, a kind of day cauldron.

A flask of scented water is always passed among guests so they may wash their hands and rinse their palates. Finally, guests enjoy a glass of mint tea, the gratifying conclusion to any great diffa worthy of the name.

Opening the doors to Morocco, we enter a world of tastes and colors that reveal great richness and incomparable skills. In doing so, we perpetuate an authentic tradition, a refined and unequaled celebration of the senses.

The dining room of a traditional restaurant looking onto a patio planted with orange trees.

The Riches of a Generous Past

Morocco’s sumptuous history of cooking has placed

the country on the world’s culinary stage

History has rarely provided a better example of people living in such effortless communion than medieval Andalousia. Back then, Christians, Jews, and Muslims shared the same lands and the same way of life. Each group developed its own faith, and art rose to the heights of grace. O blessed Andalousia, for a time the Mediterranean blew a wind of peace onto your shores. But at the end of the fifteenth century, this peace was irrevocably shattered when the Catholic kings from the north broke the truce and forced the Jews and Muslims to choose between conversion or exile.

Banished from Spain, some took refuge in North Africa, perpetuating their long tradition of peaceful cohabitation. Their food, music, and dress were very similar. Admitedly, in the kasbah of Algiers or in the alleyways of Marrakech, the Jews had separate quarters reserved for them, but everyone lived together on good terms. With their shared history, it is difficult today to unravel the bonds that unite Jews and Muslims. As a reflection of this history, Moroccan cuisine is a veritable lesson in sharing, curiosity, generosity, and harmony.

The regional cuisine of the Berbers was already in existence when the Muslim Arabs arrived. Later, the dadas (female slaves) from Bilad Al-Sudan and the Jews who were banished from Spain each, in turn, enriched the culinary art of Morocco. Despite them living in close quarters and accumulating culinary skills, many dishes retained their uniqueness.

I remember that my mother adored eating rkak (matzo, unleavened bread) that our Jewish neighbor made. Whenever our neighbor could, she would give some to my mother, who would offer her own homemade bread in return. As they enjoyed each other’s breads, they traded their baking secrets. But since neither was ever completely successful in making the other’s recipe, they continued to exchange their breads as they had before. Our table was rich and varied with Jewish cuisine distinguishing itself through its pastries and the subtlety of its breads.

Unlike in other regions where Ottoman occupation resulted in the disappearance of local culinary traditions, Moroccan cooking was gently imbued with the influences of foreign cuisines. The exiles who arrived from Grenada were warmly welcomed and, in the same vein, African slaves from the south were generally well treated.

No border is impenetrable. At the northeastern tip of Morocco, the town of Oujda faces that of Tlemcen, in Algeria. For centuries, travelers crossed the border in both directions carrying with them their foods and culinary skills—their invisible heritage—thus rendering the exact origins of many dishes impossible to determine.

Despite the difficulties in tracing the culinary history of Morocco, there is one unwavering fact: only the cooking of the ancient communities has found a place and made a lasting impression among the peoples it encountered. In the nineteenth century, Europeans imported new utensils and products but their influence is only very recent because, as it must be remembered, their interaction with the locals was limited to purely administrative affairs.

A Berber shepherd leads his flock through the Ait Bouguemez Valley in the High Atlas Mountains, where most of the country’s sheep and goat livestock come from.

In an Algerian novel, a fellah (or farmhand) recalls how he had never seen sugar as white as that brought by American soldiers during World War II. At the time, such a product was only available on the black market. It was only in the 1970s that French cuisine took hold here, with hors d’æuvres, sweets, and remarkable pastries. The bakeries that made round bread saw production drop in favor of carefully calibrated baguettes. Even the sfenjis—fritters sold on the streets which children delighted in—have been supplanted.

As in many countries where cooking benefits from the privilege of tradition, good restaurants are rare in Morocco. If a traveler is not invited to the table in a private home, he will leave with an indifferent impression of Moroccan cuisine. Large hotels prefer to serve indefinable international cuisine to please the masses, rather than offer traditional fare that might upset the undiscriminating tourist. And that is how the gourmet could miss the roads that lead to the delicate flavors of a pigeon pastilla or a patiently simmered tagine of apricots and pine nuts. Unless, that is, he meets a Moroccan family who will take it upon themselves to defend the culinary honor of their country.

For Moroccan cuisine is in fact family cooking. It demands the communion of family members for the traditional dinner at home or, less frequently, for a wedding, a birth, or a baptism. Each family adds its own personal touch, some jealously guarded secret only handed down from mother to daughter. The art requires both skill and memory. Most older Moroccan women are not familiar with the written word. Morocco belongs to a civilization where giving one’s word is worth more than a piece of paper, where speaking is a surer signature than can be made with the ink of a pen.

So we run the risk of seeing dishes that formerly enjoyed widespread admiration disappear. Tastes change, as do methods of cooking and conservation. Time works faster than a thoroughbred from the royal stables; the dadas are disappearing, and with them, their vast culinary knowledge.

The dominant roles played by Europe and the United States in today’s world arena greatly influences the way of life in the other continents. If traditional Moroccan fare is not often found in restaurants in Morocco, it is because when Moroccans go out today, they are seeking food that is new and different.

Today, rice is part of the diet in many Moroccan households, and ketchup and Coca-Cola also have their place on the kitchen table. In some places, pastilla is even garnished with Chinese noodles!

It is pointless to remain closed to all foreign influences—an impossible feat anyway in the face of the unstoppable progression of globalization—but changes should be made with respect for the balance of a dish to prevent it becoming an ungainly amalgam of incompatible parts.

Out of respect for bread, it must not be touched by a knife, which would be considered an act of violence. Bread should be broken. Food that has been given by God and blessed in His name before the meal should not be degraded by such an instrument.

Apart from a few notable exceptions, it is comparatively difficult to find a large number of good Moroccan restaurants within the country. Paradoxically, the situation is quite different abroad. In the United States, France, Britain, and throughout the world, there are many excellent eateries that, for the most part, respect the Moroccan culinary traditions. Moroccan cuisine is, without doubt, a good export.

However, it would be a mistake to claim that one must travel outside Morocco to enjoy traditional Moroccan food. The Moroccans are noted for their hospitality, so do accept all invitations to visit Moroccan homes, join the inhabitants at their kitchen tables, and share in their simple, subtle, and very tasty recipes.

The great tradition of street food is perpetuated by the women of Morocco.

Women and Dadas

Moroccan cuisine is essentially a feminine art

In Morocco, cuisine is first and foremost women’s business. In Moroccan culture, men are strongly advised to stay away from ovens, or risk losing their virility.

Morocco is a country of oral tradition, even though progress and education are gradually reaching across the immense territory. Here, knowledge, culinary or otherwise, is dispensed by word of mouth, from mother to daughter. So, should you be invited into a Moroccan home and the mistress of the house allows you free reign after the indispensable mint tea ceremony, you will not see any books on the subject of food and you will certainly not find any recipe books.

We have seen that Morocco is rich in its varied populations. The Berbers were the first inhabitants. Several ethnological studies have shown that Berber women worked the land, harvested, picked, and did the cooking themselves. Clearly our culinary roots go back to cultures from pre-Islamic times (North Africa was the larder of the Roman Empire) and can be traced to local savoir faire. Since that time, Morocco has had close commercial ties with countries in the south of the continent; sub-Saharan Africa provided gold, salt, and slaves. Trade reached its height under the green banner of Islam and became a flourishing commerce that affected the whole society including the cuisine.

Desert-dwelling nomad women prepare couscous, the national dish of Morocco.

Brutal import of servant populations was quickly replaced by peaceful solutions, and it was usually through trade that abundant supplies of slaves were sent to the market of Dar al-Islam, the house of Islam. In Morocco, male and female slaves came primarily from Sudan. Many had been bought by Touareg traders for a few pieces of gold and some scraps of fabric; others had simply been rounded up on the banks of the Niger. They instructed the captives in the rudiments of Arabic and the principles of Islam (which increased their market value) before leading them to Moroccan markets where they were sold.

We do not know much about the living conditions of the first sub-Saharan African slaves. Observers conclude that, at least after the nineteenth century, they did not suffer at the hands of their employers. The masters even tended to be more humane with sub-Saharan African slaves because though originally pagan, they quickly chose to convert to Islam.

Female slaves, known as dadas, quickly became indispensable, and were even given the charge of young children, for whom their dadas remain an indelible memory. Bound to slavery during the lifetime of their masters, some of the dadas stayed on in the house of the heirs when the latter died, to continue doing what they did as slaves, though henceforth as free women.

Mouloud, one of the most important Muslim holidays, celebrates the birth of the prophet Mohammed. It is marked by processions, dancing, and feasts.

Almost all female slaves were destined to perform domestic tasks. However, through the attention of a merchant or a rich master, a few, thought to be good learners, received a thorough education in music or even literature, before being sent to the harems of many an Orientalist’s fancy.

Qualified cooks were sold for very large sums. Restrictive and strict regulations were set so that the cooks’ instruction conformed to the wishes of the palace. Over the course of several years, the cooks were fed, housed, and trained until they perfected their knowledge and skill. The training period was crowned by a sort of diploma, a certificate with the slave’s name and her culinary aptitudes. It comes as no surprise that these slaves commanded such high prices.

Other than the original contributions from Berber culture, Moroccan cuisine is largely made up of the heritage of the dadas whose numbers are now dwindling. The height of irony is that these women whose only wealth was their status as a slave have become the masters of an inestimable, delectable treasure. When a dada is no more, a whole chapter of our culinary heritage is lost. To borrow the words of African writer Hampaté Bâ: “When one of them passes away, it is a library burning.” It has become urgent to record all the recipes and kitchen hints of these women in order to preserve their memories, which have been jealously guarded in household kitchens.

Heiresses to an ancient knowledge, these women have acquired real power in the home. It has been one of the only means at their disposal to demonstrate their competence and the hours they have spent tending their ovens may soon be lost forever, as will a part of our culinary memory.

Until recently, women were kept away from the classroom so they derived their power from cooking.

Grand Imperial Cuisine

The art and splendor of Moroccan cooking is in the fabled cities

of Rabat, Fes, Meknes, and Marrakech.

Since the seventeenth century, no fewer than four imperial cities have laid claim to being the capital of the sherifan empire of Morocco. Rabat, Fes, Meknes, and Marrakech are all names that ring out as splendors of the past. Each was the capital in its time and they have never ceased being rivals. All have laid claim to their own styles of architecture, music and, of course, cooking.

Marrakech was founded in the eleventh century by Berber horsemen from southern Morocco, under the leadership of Youssef Ibn Tachfine who established the Almoravid dynasty, before being conquered by the Almohad sultan Abd al-Mumin in AD 1147. The city first owed its fame to the fact that it was on the trade route from Timbuktu to the north, used by caravans laden with spices and gold coins. Today, the cuisine of Marrakech is notably rich and is a reminder of those luxurious times of old. It is a somewhat ostentatious fare that is presented to foreigners who flow through the gates of city.

Tanjia marrakshia is a dish made by men for men. This meat dish takes the name of the tanjia, or eartherware amphora, in which it is cooked. Sealed with paper and string, the amphora is baked for as long as four hours.

The souks (markets) are unforgettable. They are bursting with spices and you can still purchase real ras el hanout, the fabulous alchemy of twenty-seven spices that is almost impossible to find today. It is also the city of tanjia marrakshia, a dish initially served only to unmarried men, which has gradually become the symbol of the local cuisine. There is also chicken with nigella seeds, couscous with sumach, and mezgueldi, a tagine of lamb with caramelized onions. Add to the delights of the palate vestiges from the past. Visit the Koutoubia mosque, the beacon of Almohad art, the famed square Jemaà el Fna, the koranic school Medersa Ben Youssef, the gardens of Menara, and the old medina.

Fes, founded by Moulay Idriss, was the refuge for Muslims and Jews who were forced out of Andalousia beginning in the ninth century. The last refugees arrived in the labyrinthine city in AD 1492, as the final tears fell on the cheeks of the last sultan of Grenada, Boabdil, who was defeated by the Catholic kings. Fes el Jedid, a living mélange of cultures, was declared capital of the empire in AD 1250. In the dazzling homes that conceal their beauty behind the high walls of the old city of Fes, refined dishes are presented with style and grace. The cuisine of Fes resembles that of Tlemcen, a shared heritage from Andalousia of which both cities are proud. Fes has its lamb and squash tagine with honey; its vermicelli couscous with pigeons; its various recipes for carrots, savory, sweet or with cumin; its pigeon pastilla; and its partridge couscous. A must-see is the Karaouiyine mosque, the most prestigious Arab Muslim university of the medieval world, built to the glory of Allah in the ninth century, where precious manuscripts from the libraries of Grenada, Seville, and Cordoba found refuge after Spain fell to the Reconquista. Don’t miss the Danan synagogue, built in the seventeenth century in the mellah, the Jewish quarter, or the marvelous souk (market).

Riads are elegant homes discreetly nestled in the heart of medinas, which house a central patio decorated with a fountain.

A fountain in an old residence in Fes.

Meknes, the former capital of Moulay Ismael, the Alawite sovereign, is the least well-known of the four imperial cities as a tourist destination. Modestin size, Meknes has retained the languor that is customary in provincial cities. In a city with a large Jewish population, tolerance reigns. And the cuisine is a conscious reflection of this openness. If it is true that the Jewish community has its own recipes, like chicken pâté, potato pastilla or stuffed mutton intestine, Muslims were also proud of their own cuisine that was similar to that of nearby Fes. But inhabitants of Meknes are supposedly stingy with their wealth and it is no accident that one of their specialties is called “the hen has flown.” Guests are promised a dish of chicken and garbanzo beans but what a surprise to see plates served only with beans! When the host is asked where the meat is, he invariably replies that the hen has flown off.

Rabat, the modem capital, has attracted many guests to its table. If the bazaars are not as showy as those of Fes or Marrakech, it is because the city prefers calm and modernity. Here reigns the cuisine of the makhzen, the official cuisine that has ties to every region of Morocco and the neighboring countries. Home cooking, rich and varied, is in every way astonishing. Some recipes are carefully guarded secrets like the famous bal farkh couscous made with sea bass.

A coastal city, Rabat shares the secrets of the sea with the other coastal towns of Assafi and Essaouira, but Rabat has no equal when it comes to cooking shad, a fish similar to the sardine. Assafi and Essaouira are famous for serving baddaz, couscous made from sweet com, garnished with conger eel heads, and fried moray eal with honey.

In Rabat, you will also find kaak, a delicious cake, or zemata, a dish made with seeds (in Oujda, the town on the Algerian border, it is made with young wheat and covered with figs.)

Although the city of Tetouan is not strictly speaking an imperial city, its history renders it indispensable. In its vast memory reside the splendors of Muslim Andalousia, its riches, and its subtle perfumes. A direct heir to the culinary traditions of Grenada, Teotouan is also one of the only Moroccan cities to have been subjected to the influence of the Ottomans as the presence of bakhlava and ktaifs attests, giving a special accent to border and coastal towns. We should also mention the pastilla of chicken with preserved lemons.