By ahblackwell
The Friday couscous tradition is one of my favorite food traditions here in Morocco, but I was especially excited for it this week because Friday was a particularly cold and rainy day. I walked home in the rain after I finished my Arabic final, attempting to avoid the puddles and land mines - the hidden pockets of water under loose tiles that explode with mud and “medina juice” when you step on them - and the smell of the couscous and the heat of the kitchen when I entered my family’s house were a wonderful relief. I cuddled up under a blanket on the couch in between my host-dad and little sister as my mom brought in the heaping pile of couscous and vegetables steaming on the huge tagine. My host-dad, my brother and I each picked up an oversized spoon and began to dig into the couscous and chickpeas (“hummus” in Darija - no, not what we think of as hummus) in our “zones” while my host-mother and sister went right in with their hands. In Morocco, many traditional meals are cooked in tagines, which are large conical clay cooking pots that allow steam from the meal to condense and drip back down into the base. The meals are brought to the table in the tagine base, and each family member is expected to only eat the food in their “zone,” or the pie-slice of the circular plate that is closest to them. Tagine meals are often eaten without using utensils. Most of the time, bread serves as a utensil, and each bite is achieved using a small piece of “khubs” as a scooper. Couscous, however, is traditionally only eaten with your hands by scooping some couscous and some vegetables into your hand, forming a ball with it, and popping the ball into your mouth. Luckily, the modern habit of using a spoon for couscous has become more common, and I am not subjected to the difficulty of forming couscous balls by hand. Although Moroccan couscous is a cultural staple, it is only eaten for lunch on Fridays. Friday is the most important day of the week, for Muslims, and almost all Moroccans head home from work or school for the afternoon prayer and to eat family couscous before returning back to their normal activities.
Moroccan cuisine has morphed and gradually moved away from the traditional styles of cooking and eating. However, some families, especially those that live in the old medina, have stuck to their cultural roots. My family is one of those. Every morning I wake up and eat a breakfast of bread with cheese and a cup of coffee that is closer to a cup of steamed whole-milk with a spoonful of coffee than any cup of coffee I’ve ever had in the U.S. Lunch, whether at home or at school, is huge and consists of several different salads or sides in addition to the main course, as well as a piece or two of bread. At home, I almost always have a meal for lunch that requires using bread as a utensil. Evening snack, called “Kaskroot” in Darija, takes place at home every night between five and seven o’clock and consists of tiny glasses of tea and cake, Moroccan crepes, overly fried donuts, overly fried bread, regular bread, or cookies, depending on the day and who is present. My favorite kaskroot is a chocolate cake that my host-mom makes that also happens to be the most moist and fluffy and delicious chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted in my entire life. Because our kitchen does not have an oven, she uses a communal oven down the block to bake her cakes and cookies.
Dinner at home can take place any time between nine and twelve at night. Thanks to my little siblings, I usually luck out with dinner happening around ten o’clock. My family maintains a fairly traditional kitchen. We generally have some type of tagine consisting of beef or chicken with vegetables and sauce simmering on top. Our most common meal is chicken tagine with potatoes, green beans, carrots, and a very saffrony sauce all steamed together and eaten with bread. Sometimes my mom changes it up and we have dates or lentils steamed in, too. My favorite meal is hareera, a thick Moroccan soup with lentils, chickpeas, and a number of other vegetables that closely resembles American vegetable soup. When we have hareera we also generally have dates and hard-boiled eggs on the side, which is a treat. Dinner is almost always followed by a dessert of fresh fruit. On most nights I have a banana or an orange, but as the seasons have shifted, strawberries have been added to the mix. Fruit here is like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. The oranges, especially, are more juicy and sweet than any oranges I’ve had in the U.S.
Although Moroccan food is incredibly delicious, it has taken a lot of getting used to. The sheer amount of food is probably the biggest adjustment. Once, I went to a party for a baby’s name day, and while sitting at a table with five other women I was served one platter of three whole chickens and potatoes which was quickly followed by a second platter of three lamb racks with caramelized dates on top, all after having already eaten at least four helpings of cookies and tea. Needless to say, I learned quickly to almost always expect a second course. Eating food with bread as a utensil only exacerbates the too-much-food problem. In addition, the disregard for personal health is almost appalling. Diabetes and high cholesterol are huge health detriments in Morocco, which is easy to understand after personally tasting the insane amount of sugar and salt used in Moroccan cooking - even in the tea! What’s more disturbing, though, is the number of people who live with and are aware of these health problems and yet still continue to eat as though they are not a concern. I suspect that the low-sodium and healthy-crunchy diet trends that are enveloping the West will soon make their way into Morocco; however, as of now, the term “diet” is far from the majority of Moroccan minds.
I have adjusted to Moroccan eating norms, for now, and combat them with lots of fruit and exercise and hilarious stories shared with friends. However, though I look forward to my couscous every Friday and will miss it dearly when I go, I am anticipating returning to salads and smaller meals with excitement.