Life Here

Tangier has been a wonderful place to live for the past month. Our house is in the Casbah, which is the old walled part of the city. The streets and tiny, winding, and very confusing if you don't know where you're going, the buildings are crammed together at odd angles, and there are surprises around every corner.

Sometimes you'll stumble upon brightly painted side alleys filled with plants...

...or intricate tile mosaics, quietly adding beauty to the crumbling walls.

One of my favorite things is the variation in the doors of the houses. This was the theme for a gallery exhibit at a show here! An artist from Tangier makes miniature models of real houses with wood, paint, and plaster.

Our house doesn't look quite as cute from the outside, but inside it is cozy and full of light.

We have a terrace where we can eat breakfast with a view of the bay. I love the bright blue paint on the floor!

We have a cute little kitchen, where we've been doing lots of cooking.

One of my favorite things to make is a breakfast sandwich I invented when we were running low on groceries. I toasted some leftover Moroccan bread - a type kind of a like a giant English muffin - split it in half, and spread tahini and honey on the inside. I added some sliced strawberries, which are in season and delicious, and took a bite. The bread was still warm, crunchy on the outside and soft inside. With the richness of the tahini, the sweetness of the honey, and the tangy juiciness of the strawberries, it was amazing. It's my favorite breakfast now, combining some of my favorite foods from Tangier.

We made an almost-raw chocolate cake, too - chocolate, cashews, and dates for the filling, with a crunchy crust of toasted almonds and brown sugar and a rich layer of ganache on top.

Lots of chocolate - a kilo, to be exact - also went into the brownies I made for some new friends here. I made a batch for a party, and the following week, when we made plans to meet for breakfast, they specifically requested "one batch to eat then and one to take home." They went over very well, and there is a standing request for more.

Delicious as it is, chocolate is not my staple. The markets here offer such fresh fruits and vegetables and I've loved cooking them in all forms - steamed, roasted, baked, stewed, sautéed. Yesterday we made a delicious lunch: garlicky greens with cauliflower "couscous" and tahini sauce. Cauliflower makes a great substitute for couscous if you want something light or cannot eat gluten. It's super easy!

You just steam it until it is cooked but still firm, then pulse it in a food processor until it forms small crumbles (whatever size you like). Then heat oil in a pan, add chopped kale, bok choy, or other greens and sauté until bright green and wilted. Add garlic to taste, cook for another minute, and serve on top of the couscous. To make a tahini sauce, simply mix tahini with a dash of soy sauce, toasted sesame oil, turmeric, and water to thin it to the desired consistency. The 'couscous' would work well as a substitute for rice, too, and as a great base for any sauce.

Love to all my family and friends, and more soon on cooking and life in Tangier!

Street Food

One of my favorite things about Tangier is the food you can buy on the street for less than a euro. It is fresh, delicious, and healthy (most of the time).

Near the main center of the city, there is a little stand selling donuts. As soon at they come out of the hot oil, the man working there slices them open and drops in a scoop of honey. Not my most favorite thing - they mostly taste fried - but they seem to be quite popular.

What I really love are the giant round pans of something I don't yet know the name of. It is made with chickpea flour and eggs, and has the texture of a soft, delicate quiche, with a flavor much like an omelet.

For one dirham - about thirteen cents - you can get a small slice on a little square of brown paper. It's served hot or cold, with a shake of salt and pepper.

My other favorite streetfood also involves chickpeas. At around six in the evening, a man appears with two huge pots of piping hot legumes - one of large brown beans and one of chickpeas. You just tell him how many dirhams worth you want - one, two, three - and in seconds he folds a piece of paper into a little cone. He spoons in some chickpeas and adds a sprinkle of salt and spices, tossing them together with a practiced flick of his wrist. I eat them with a toothpick while walking back through the medina to my house.

A few feet away, you can buy fresh cactus fruits!

The vendor will slice them open for you, removing the sharp spines, and hand it to you with a toothpick, ready for eating. They are mild and slightly sweet, kind of like a cross between a watermelon and a cucumber.

On some nights there is a dessert vendor too - he wheels a cart with huge trays of honey-soaked, argan oil-scented pastries. I tried this one - I'm not sure exactly what was in it, but it was a rich, sweet paste that reminded me of peanut butter. Before he handed it to be, he drizzled it with argan oil, which is extracted from the native argan tree and used for many culinary and cosmetic purposes.

Not exactly street food, but there is a tiny shop near our house that makes bread and fresh soups. We stop to pick up dinner on the way home sometimes, and it's always delicious. Often, we can buy bread fresh off the griddle!

And of course, the fresh orange juice! Less than a dollar for a glass, and it's amazing.

The Things We Cling To

It’s interesting to see what people hold on to when they travel in foreign places. This thought came to my mind in Morocco, while shivering in bed after a bout of food poisoning. In one hand I held a lemon, scratching the skin with my nail and inhaling deeply, the scent bringing relief from waves of nausea. With the other, I held a fuzzy stuffed polar bear to my chest, running shaking fingers over the soft fur. My dad gave it to me just before I left, a friend for the road. It has been tucked into beds on three continents now, and on all the times someone else has made my bed – a maid, a family friend I stayed with – I’ve found him placed carefully on the pillow.

Other reminders of home found their way into my tightly packed bag. Luxuriously thick Crabtree & Evelyn hand lotion from my parents, the kind my mom puts on before bed that reminds me of hugging her goodnight, lip balm and a warm scarf from my sister, my favorite soft t-shirt and Smart Wool socks. And my iPod, of course – Lady GaGa has gotten me through some of my most trying travel experiences. I managed to fit in two jars of peanut butter, too, that delectable product which to me represents the pinnacle of American food innovation.

Food has an especially powerful hold on our memories of home. When I biked through South America during my first year of college, I delighted in buying bright yellow bags of Lay’s potato chips at the little stands we would pass along the road. I rarely ate potato chips at home, and definitely not Lay’s. But the familiar package represented a connection to my home and my identity. There I was, an American somewhere in rural Bolivia, crunching through these chips that somehow made me feel a more patriotic citizen of the United States than singing the national anthem at baseball games ever had. I came back with an intense love for ketchup, too, after wanting nothing more than a little cup of bright red sauce to accompany some yucca fries in a tiny coastal town in Peru. I had my choice of mayonnaise, lemon, vinegar, and hot sauce, but it wasn’t the same. 

         In Spain, near the end of a long summer of traveling, it was cornflakes. I couldn’t recall ever buying a box at home, or for that matter even eating a bowl, when I saw them at the grocery store in a little beach town north of Barcelona. Later I sat on the terrace of the B&B, overlooking the curve of sand where I’d spent the day relishing the baking sun and warm Mediterranean water. I must have eaten three bowls in a row, enjoying the distant familiarity of a food I never ate at home, yet made me feel closer to it. Something about the crunch of the cereal, floating in a spoonful of cold milk, tasted so American.

         To Germany and Belgium, I brought peanut butter and maple syrup. You can get it there, but it’s not the same. I savored each mouthful, knowing that when it was gone, it would be months before I’d have it again. Frozen pizza, too, was an ironic pleasure. We bought one on our last day in Berlin, laughing in the grocery store as we decided between four cheese and margherita, amused by the thought of two good cooks in a city with even better food, ending our stay with something so abundant back home. But it felt right.

Cap Spartel & Asilah

Last week we went on a day trip to Cap Spartel, where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Mediterranean Sea, and to Asilah, a small town right on the coast.

This part of Morocco is known for having incredible seafood, so I decided to make an exception and try some for lunch. We passed up the Tunny-fish omelet, and at the suggestion of our driver, who is from Tangier, ordered grilled shrimp, calamari, and swordfish.

 I have harbored a deep and total fear of shrimp for a long time. They smell funny, they look weird, they probably feel weird too. And these arrived at the table with heads, shells, and legs. AHH!!

 But, I believe in seeking out new and slightly scary experiences, so I picked one up. I watched as my friend pulled off the head and split the shell open to reveal a morsel of pure white meat. I did the same, and popped it into my mouth before I could change my mind.

Ohhhh, my god. Seasoned with just a little salt, lemon, and garlic, the flavor of the fresh shrimp came through. It was not at all fishy, just rich, firm, and almost sweet.

The calamari was delicious, of course, being mostly fried batter. The squid was mild and pleasantly chewy, not tough.

After lunch we walked through the old walled part of the city. Right on the ocean was this tiny mosque, sitting next to a cemetery.


Each grave was decorated with a rectangle of beautiful colored tiles.

One of my favorite things about Morocco are the varied styles and colors of the doors and houses. Each step along the winding streets is unique.

After wandering around the town, we had just enough time to sample some pastries before driving back to Tangier.

Tangier - First Days

Tangier is an amazing city. It is exquisite in a crumbling, imperfect way. 

 

This is our house. I love how it looks old and falling down on the outside, while the cozy, cute interior is hidden from the world.

There are so many tiny streets

 


















The coast is gorgeous!

And the food is so good! You can get orange juice for seventy cents on the street, and for about two euros in cafes. 

On one of our first days here, we went out to get couscous for lunch. They were huge and are usually made with chicken, so we shared two, me eating vegetables and couscous. 

I honestly don't know how it's possible to get so much flavor into a carrot. Every bite is full of spices, sweetness from the raisins, saltiness from the broth, and the warmth of the steaming couscous. The scent alone is heavenly. 

The vegetables are cooked until very tender, so each bite is juicy and melts in your mouth. The chickpeas are a little firmer, and create a nice contrast with their creamy texture and nutty flavor. My favorite part is the raisins, which seem to soak up spices like nothing else and add a burst of sweetness to each bite of the dish. And the best part? A giant plate of this, in a nice restaurant, preceded by bread and olives, costs about five dollars. I think I could eat it every day.

It is served with a traditional drink, basically watered-down plain yogurt. The mild, tangy beverage actually goes really well with the intensely-flavored couscous. 

 

You don't have to go to a restaurant to find amazing food. There is a tiny shop by our house that sells bread and fresh soups. The women that work there are so nice and they recognize us already.

















For about three dollars, we got two delicious soups - lubia, a traditional white bean stew, and a tomato soup - and delicious bread with garlic, cooked on the griddle until golden brown and crispy. 

 I can't believe I've been here a week already! The time is flying by - it has been so great to hang out with two of my best friends in this awesome city. I'm looking forward to spending the next few months here and trying more fabulous food.