Posts tagged morocco
Chai-Spiced Date + Apple Crisp

This week it is all about the recipe, because how it came to be is a sort-of metaphor for the way I live my daily life. Attempting to bring two separate things together. Merging worlds, blending cultures, greeting my present with my past. 

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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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Roasted Sweet Potato, Cauliflower + Barley Salad with Vegan Avocado Corn Crema

A random question that I get asked more frequently than you might expect is, “So do you eat Moroccan food, like, every day now?” The simple answer is “No, I’m not a tourist anymore” and the follow-up to that is what I say to almost any health-related question; “It’s all about balance.” 

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Why Everyone Should Have the Experience of Being Foreign At Some Point in Their Life

There is a certain fact about myself that may seem rather obvious, but is something that I come face-to-face with on a daily basis. I am never going to be Moroccan. I can learn Darija to the best of my ability, I can learn how to cook tagines and couscous and know where to get the best zlefa de bissara in the city, know how to haggle with shop owners and carry on a decent conversation with my taxi driver. I could, I suppose, dye my hair darker, wear a djellaba every day, wear thicker make-up, but really none of this is ever going to make me native to this country. I will always be an outsider. A foreigner. Gauwria.

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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 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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An Ode to Airplanes

As much as I adore the energy the body absorbs from dance, yoga, long walks, and good stretches, there is one particular physical experience that quite literally rises above all others. I will never get tired of the feeling I get when taking off in an airplane. Rolling slowly away from the gate, moseying around the maze of concrete until the plane turns its nose towards the expectant runway. 

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