No border is impenetrable. At the northeastern tip of Morocco, the town of Oujda faces that of Tlemcen, in Algeria. For centuries, travelers crossed the border in both directions carrying with them their foods and culinary skills—their invisible heritage—thus rendering the exact origins of many dishes impossible to determine.
Despite the difficulties in tracing the culinary history of Morocco, there is one unwavering fact: only the cooking of the ancient communities has found a place and made a lasting impression among the peoples it encountered. In the nineteenth century, Europeans imported new utensils and products but their influence is only very recent because, as it must be remembered, their interaction with the locals was limited to purely administrative affairs.
A Berber shepherd leads his flock through the Ait Bouguemez Valley in the High Atlas Mountains, where most of the country’s sheep and goat livestock come from.
In an Algerian novel, a fellah (or farmhand) recalls how he had never seen sugar as white as that brought by American soldiers during World War II. At the time, such a product was only available on the black market. It was only in the 1970s that French cuisine took hold here, with hors d’æuvres, sweets, and remarkable pastries. The bakeries that made round bread saw production drop in favor of carefully calibrated baguettes. Even the sfenjis—fritters sold on the streets which children delighted in—have been supplanted.
As in many countries where cooking benefits from the privilege of tradition, good restaurants are rare in Morocco. If a traveler is not invited to the table in a private home, he will leave with an indifferent impression of Moroccan cuisine. Large hotels prefer to serve indefinable international cuisine to please the masses, rather than offer traditional fare that might upset the undiscriminating tourist. And that is how the gourmet could miss the roads that lead to the delicate flavors of a pigeon pastilla or a patiently simmered tagine of apricots and pine nuts. Unless, that is, he meets a Moroccan family who will take it upon themselves to defend the culinary honor of their country.
For Moroccan cuisine is in fact family cooking. It demands the communion of family members for the traditional dinner at home or, less frequently, for a wedding, a birth, or a baptism. Each family adds its own personal touch, some jealously guarded secret only handed down from mother to daughter. The art requires both skill and memory. Most older Moroccan women are not familiar with the written word. Morocco belongs to a civilization where giving one’s word is worth more than a piece of paper, where speaking is a surer signature than can be made with the ink of a pen.
So we run the risk of seeing dishes that formerly enjoyed widespread admiration disappear. Tastes change, as do methods of cooking and conservation. Time works faster than a thoroughbred from the royal stables; the dadas are disappearing, and with them, their vast culinary knowledge.
The dominant roles played by Europe and the United States in today’s world arena greatly influences the way of life in the other continents. If traditional Moroccan fare is not often found in restaurants in Morocco, it is because when Moroccans go out today, they are seeking food that is new and different.
Today, rice is part of the diet in many Moroccan households, and ketchup and Coca-Cola also have their place on the kitchen table. In some places, pastilla is even garnished with Chinese noodles!
It is pointless to remain closed to all foreign influences—an impossible feat anyway in the face of the unstoppable progression of globalization—but changes should be made with respect for the balance of a dish to prevent it becoming an ungainly amalgam of incompatible parts.
Out of respect for bread, it must not be touched by a knife, which would be considered an act of violence. Bread should be broken. Food that has been given by God and blessed in His name before the meal should not be degraded by such an instrument.
Apart from a few notable exceptions, it is comparatively difficult to find a large number of good Moroccan restaurants within the country. Paradoxically, the situation is quite different abroad. In the United States, France, Britain, and throughout the world, there are many excellent eateries that, for the most part, respect the Moroccan culinary traditions. Moroccan cuisine is, without doubt, a good export.
However, it would be a mistake to claim that one must travel outside Morocco to enjoy traditional Moroccan food. The Moroccans are noted for their hospitality, so do accept all invitations to visit Moroccan homes, join the inhabitants at their kitchen tables, and share in their simple, subtle, and very tasty recipes.
The great tradition of street food is perpetuated by the women of Morocco.
Women and Dadas
Moroccan cuisine is essentially a feminine art
In Morocco, cuisine is first and foremost women’s business. In Moroccan culture, men are strongly advised to stay away from ovens, or risk losing their virility.
Morocco is a country of oral tradition, even though progress and education are gradually reaching across the immense territory. Here, knowledge, culinary or otherwise, is dispensed by word of mouth, from mother to daughter. So, should you be invited into a Moroccan home and the mistress of the house allows you free reign after the indispensable mint tea ceremony, you will not see any books on the subject of food and you will certainly not find any recipe books.
We have seen that Morocco is rich in its varied populations. The Berbers were the first inhabitants. Several ethnological studies have shown that Berber women worked the land, harvested, picked, and did the cooking themselves. Clearly our culinary roots go back to cultures from pre-Islamic times (North Africa was the larder of the Roman Empire) and can be traced to local savoir faire. Since that time, Morocco has had close commercial ties with countries in the south of the continent; sub-Saharan Africa provided gold, salt, and slaves. Trade reached its height under the green banner of Islam and became a flourishing commerce that affected the whole society including the cuisine.
Desert-dwelling nomad women prepare couscous, the national dish of Morocco.
Brutal import of servant populations was quickly replaced by peaceful solutions, and it was usually through trade that abundant supplies of slaves were sent to the market of Dar al-Islam, the house of Islam. In Morocco, male and female slaves came primarily from Sudan. Many had been bought by Touareg traders for a few pieces of gold and some scraps of fabric; others had simply been rounded up on the banks of the Niger. They instructed the captives in the rudiments of Arabic and the principles of Islam (which increased their market value) before leading them to Moroccan markets where they were sold.
We do not know much about the living conditions of the first sub-Saharan African slaves. Observers conclude that, at least after the nineteenth century, they did not suffer at the hands of their employers. The masters even tended to be more humane with sub-Saharan African slaves because though originally pagan, they quickly chose to convert to Islam.
Female slaves, known as dadas, quickly became indispensable, and were even given the charge of young children, for whom their dadas remain an indelible memory. Bound to slavery during the lifetime of their masters, some of the dadas stayed on in the house of the heirs when the latter died, to continue doing what they did as slaves, though henceforth as free women.
Mouloud, one of the most important Muslim holidays, celebrates the birth of the prophet Mohammed. It is marked by processions, dancing, and feasts.
Almost all female slaves were destined to perform domestic tasks. However, through the attention