Moroccan Cooking Lessons

Ever since I almost caught my kitchen on fire last semester while cooking tofu, I’ve taken a sabbatical from cooking. However, I decided to get over the lingering memories of scorched soy beans by accepting an offer, from my friend’s mom to teach us how to make harira and bstilla, two of my favorite Moroccan dishes. Ever since I arrived in Morocco, I’ve been determined to learn how to make one or two things, and this was my lucky week! Harira is a tomato base soup, traditionally made during Ramadan to break the fast, and bstilla is a flaky chicken or pigeon pastry made with all sorts of delicious spices. As a side note: most of the time I have no idea what I’m eating in this country…I just eat whatever they put in front of me and don’t even worry about the name. The harira is a perfect example of that; I’ve been eating it for almost two months now and I’ve never really know what was in it. When she pulled out the puréed tomato base, onions, and garbanzo beans, I thought to myself “ok, I could have guessed that.” But when she pulled out the chicken, I thought it looked a little different than usual, so I asked her what part of the animal it was. Her response? “cou de poulet.” Come again? Oh yes, chicken neck. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss. We zealously threw 10 chicken necks into the pot, along with the veggies, lots of parsley, and saffron (a staple in any Moroccan food), and while that simmered on the (camper) stove, we turned our attention to the bstilla. Luckily, there were no more surprises there…just a mixture made of shredded chicken (I assume chicken breast, but I didn’t ask), saffron, onions cooked in oil and saffron, more saffron, and a few other items that were lost in translation (I took better notes than this blog post lets on). We made personal size bstillas by putting the chicken mixture into filo dough and folding it into a pocket about the size of a tea saucer. She then led us to the kitchen where we were to fry the little suckers. Let me give a brief description of this kitchen: small, full of birdcages (the family collects and crossbreeds finches and canaries (?!)), camper stove with pans of hot oil and tea kettles teetering precariously, 3 little girls running underfoot, and no room in which to turn around. It was definitely a challenge for this woman, not to mention the fact that she had three awkwardly curious American girls following her every move. Despite the obstacles, we had dinner on the table for the family (and some random woman) by 9 pm. I’ve never eaten chicken neck before, and I’m still not sure how I feel about breaking the neck in half and then proceeding to eat the meat vertebrae by vertebrae, but all in all I think it was a success. The harira turned out scrumptious and I think I could have eaten the bstilla all night long. This was one of the most fun nights I’ve had in Morocco…my friend’s mom was the best sport and kept us laughing the entire time, and not to mention well-fed.
Note to the Italian side of the family: I guess the news of your cooking class inspired me to learn some new recipes…Nonna, you’d be so proud :)