Posts tagged moroccan food
The Classic No-Bake Tarte Citron + On Failure in the Kitchen

Since I began to learn how to cook, I have viewed the process of preparing food as something more than just the mechanic task of feeding oneself. There is creativity and spirit in the kitchen, making the cooking or baking process lively, meditative, mindful, or educational. It may be a stretch, but I would venture to say that one’s relationship to cooking can tell you a lot about them. My love of it began with finding joy in methodic creation paired with experimentation and risk, all tied together by putting your heart into good ingredients and making something delicious that brings a smile to everyones face. 

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Bissara | Moroccan Split Pea + Fava Bean Soup

There is some strange relationship between me and the taxis in Tangier. It is rare that I have a normal, uneventful ride- usually there is some happening or detail about it that is worthy of a humorous retelling. At least half of my Morocco-related stories start with the phrase, “so I was in a taxi the other day…”

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Pumpkin, Date + Almond Butter Stuffed Moroccan Tea Cookies

Back in my days of traveling solo, I used to fancy myself a sort of lone wolf. A wandering, independent woman who enjoyed her own company and didn’t mind if people came and went, simply passing through until the next adventure. The idea of finding and settling into a community was not in the forefront of my mind back then, but it has been emerging more prominently in recent years. 

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Halwa d'Tmar (Moroccan Date-Stuffed Cookies) + A Virtual Midsummer Potluck for Peace

Living in a foreign country often involves picking up certain new habits and customs, nestling them into your daily life. Upon moving to Morocco, the first word I learned in Arabic was Salaam aalikoum.

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Moroccan Chicken + Egg Briouats

My mind has been churning lately with all that is to come this summer, planning, making lists and sketches, and getting over-enthusiastic about packing. Sometimes I find it hard to wax on and on about life when I am so busy feeling it. Every time I try to write in these past couple days, all that comes out is something akin to poetry. Snippets and snapshots of these slow moving yet full days. 

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Moroccan Harira + Looking Back On My First Ramadan

Tangier is, by nature, a noisy place. At all hours of the day and night there are cars and trucks rumbling around, mopeds backfiring, people yelling, whether in enthusiastic greeting or heated debate, and absolutely no one is ever shy with their horn. For this reason, it is impossible to forget my first Ramadan in Morocco when I heard something I had never heard before in this city- silence. 

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Moroccan Almond + Semolina Coconut Cookies | When Words Fail

Since learning to write poetry at a young age, I have fallen in love with the beauty of words. The satisfaction of certain sounds merging in humming perfection and meaning something that possibly has the power to effect emotional change. However, while I will always have that love and curiosity about the way letters can come together, something happens to it when you move to a foreign country and all at once find that your beautiful words fail you.

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Moroccan White Beans + Greens in Tomato Sauce (Loubia ma3 Silk) + The Melancholy of Tangier

“Nothing evokes melancholy like cities do” -Tara Isabella Burton, The Geography of Melancholy, American Reader …And oh, the melancholy of Tangier. I have always loved that word- melancholy. It sounds particularly poetic and romantic to the ear, and yet to feel it is quite another matter. Lately this city has been sucking me into a lazy, slouching form of this feeling

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Zaalouk | Moroccan Eggplant Dip

Early on in my traveling life, I realized that I have a strong aversion to the word tourist. It evokes, to me, the image of someone who is on the outskirts, gawking and snapping photos of what is within. I have always preferred trying to dig a bit deeper wherever I am, learning the customs, rhythms and language that are local to a place. This characteristic has served both positively and negatively throughout my travels and living abroad. At my best, I converse with locals, impressing them with colloquialisms and walk around the city as if I know it by heart.

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