couscous of magic and wonder

I think there are three types of Americans. You can tell which category a person falls into depending on what jumps to their mind first when they hear the word “Morocco.” It’s either:

1) Wait, isn’t that the place with all the casinos? What does a Peace Corps volunteer do there? (true story…that would be because they’re thinking of Monaco)
2) The Marrakesh Express, recorded by Crosby, Stills and Nash, pre-Young, in 1969 (by the way, as a family friend remarked the other day, pretty much everything happened in 1969, didn’t it?)
3) COUSCOUS

Exhibit A. Also, just in case you were wondering, in "Berber" dialects like Tashlheet and Tamazight, couscous is called "sksu" (just reverse the "s" and "k" sounds in "couscous" and you've got it...it's far more fun to pronounce).

What follows is a scrupulously transcribed version of the best couscous made in the best region (Taroudant) by the very best Moroccan cook, period (that would be Zahara Ait Ben Hmad, who is one of the most remarkable women I know. Her son Soufiane is pretty talented too, and you should check out his work). I could never make couscous as well as Zahara, but I do my best.

A few things about couscous: it’s often described as the “Moroccan national dish,” whatever that means. Far more interesting, I think, is the fact that while most Moroccan men can cook a decent tagine, I never met one who ever attempted to make couscous. It takes far more time than a tagine, and it has a ritual place in the Moroccan week – it’s usually enjoyed just after Friday prayers at the mosque (though not all families eat it exactly then). Couscous takes a notoriously long time to cook in Morocco, and is therefore considered more difficult – it simply requires a lot of patience and commitment.

What I love about couscous is that it’s traditionally prepared on the holiest day of the week in Islam – Friday – but it demonstrates that there are some really powerful aspects of Islam that take place outside the mosque. For one, couscous is often prepared in vast quantities to feed the poor on Fridays. In America, we often give donated or leftover food to the poor, but this gesture is especially powerful to me because it’s the act of giving one of Morocco’s most elaborate and special foods to the needy – in essence, saying that everyone deserves a well-prepared family meal. Along those same lines, as a foreigner, I had a standing invitation to couscous on Fridays; even though it was a religious day for observant Muslims, this was a part of that day meant to be freely and joyously shared with everyone.

That’s nice, you say, but why, exactly does it take so long to cook?

around town in myPod

zoom zoom

One of my greatest challenges in Morocco was transportation. My village wasn’t actually served by any licensed, official, reliable form of public transport – just a couple of guys with old station wagons who made a few runs into town each day. When I did manage to catch a ride with a labziwi, as the locals called our “taxis,” this often meant sharing a ride with up to 14 other individuals, or, say, 12 people and a large ram, or (my personal favorite) 10 people and two large rams. At some point, the powerlessness and lack of control I experienced waiting, hoping, praying for a taxi to show up as I shivered outside my house in the pre-dawn dark became too much. Something snapped and I swore off taxis, instead opting to propel myself by bicycle over the 10+ miles of hilly, bumpy, rocky road any time I had to go into town (“town” was not an especially fun or glamorous place to visit, by the way, but it did beckon me at least once a week with allurements like mail, vegetables, diet soda and cheese).

Remarkably, my stubborn streak lasted almost six months, throughout the hottest months of the year and Ramadan as well. And I have to say, whether it was taking charge of my own movements at the most basic level, or the fresh air and scenery, or just the endorphins, I really think it made me happier.

not so bad to look at every day

tagine 101: lamb tagine

“Tagine” refers to both a piece of cookware (pictured here) and the ubiquitous Moroccan dish. Perhaps the best part about them is that all the elements of a meal – vegetables, meat, stew, herbs, spices, fruit – are cooked together, all at once, so their flavors mingle and blend and reinforce each other beautifully. This not only means better flavors, but fewer dishes too (especially when you consider that typically a tagine is cooked and served from a single dish). There are dozens and dozens of variations on the basic tagine, but this one combines several classic elements: it starts with onions and garlic cooked at the bottom of the dish, features lamb, and includes both savory and sweet flavors.

about the name

“Imik simik” (ih-MEEK-see-MEEK) is a phrase in Moroccan Berber that means “little by little.” It’s also a way of life in southern Morocco, where glasses of tea are a better measure of time than the hands on a watch and where in any given moment, the person you’re having a conversation with or the task at hand takes precedence over all else. It’s about cooking slowly, speaking deliberately, and living life as it happens: moment by moment and day by day.

Morocco is famous for its carpets and textiles, which are among the most beautiful works of artistry I’ve ever seen. But equally stunning is the skill with which Moroccans can weave the simplest or the hardest or the roughest elements into the fabric of their lives – transforming the here & now into the art of the everyday.