the clean picked bones on the table. Finally, attack the pastry which melts in the mouth with its sugar and cinnamon. Before each guest the space becomes bigger, the gesture from the dish to the lips slower, the appetite calmer, allowing for the dishes which are to follow.
A discreet snap of the fingers, in the twinkling of an eye the bistilla disappears, leaving the debris of bones scattered over the table. Half a ksra is placed before each guest. Then Yacout brings in the choua, that rather insipid steamed mutton happily seasoned with cumin which rests the palate after the extraordinary spices of the previous dish. With three fingers the guest of honour searches under the shoulder blade and offers me the tenderest morsel …
Then comes the chicken with almonds, three at least so as not to appear mskin or poor. Before tasting the meat, dip your bread in the terribly hot sauce which will bring a rush of blood to the head.
There follows a turkey ma’amrra; after breaking the breast bone we enjoy the stuffing, a qamama tagine with a dazzling purée of onions and honey.
Finally a couscous to subdue our hunger. To avoid the shame of failure I shall not attempt to roll it into small pellets, the correct way to eat couscous. Fortunately a spoon is nearly always provided by our thoughtful hosts.
During this meal, which is typical of a simple reception, there is little conversation; that would spoil the pleasure and appreciation of each dish.
It is not seemly to offer water, which distends the stomach, but if necessary one can ask to quench one’s thirst.
The meat dishes finished, the broken bones are rapidly swept away, the table cleared.
A gentle rest, then the sweet steamed semolina with a glass of cold milk, before ending with the fruits of the season.
And the ballet starts again as at the beginning of the meal. Young women juggle away the table, then pass their hands over the carpet like a vacuum cleaner. One of them presents the silver ewer filled with warm water with which we purify our mouths, lips and hands. The cushion and the mattresses are put back in their place. Life is sweet, utterly satisfied. Chban or satiated, we are drunk with strong spices, heavy with sauces.
This formidable meal passes off better than one would think. In spite of the number of dishes the absence of wine allows one to digest the well-cooked meats quite easily, above all if one has the courage not to drink during the meal but to wait for the mint tea which follows.
Now the dishes, which are still far from empty, especially those served last, will be taken first to the women and children of the house, who from the first floor or across the patio behind curtains have been spying and waiting, then they will go to the kitchens, and when the porter, amidst a swarm of flies, throws the bones on the rubbish heap they are white and clean, as though they had lain in the burning desert sun.
The bourgeois families of Fez have at least thirty or forty people to feed every day. For a simple family meal only one or two tagines are served. An artisan is satisfied with a modest stew. Necessity renders the workman frugal: after receiving his wages he is obliged to buy himself vegetables and oil for his meal; at midday he will eat only bread and olives and his family semolina and sour milk. Never forget that the Arab working man has still the stomach of a nomad and can exist for many days on dates and dried figs, but when the occasion arises he can eat a whole sheep.
There are of course definite rules as to the succession of dishes. In giving a recipe I have generally indicated at what moment the tagine should be served. In the preceding pages I have given you a classical type of meal.
Remember that the bistilla must be served first, then the choua, fish, spring or summer tagines according to the season, tfaia tagine, kefta and mrouzia.
The mutton mahammar and mqalli. Chicken with lemons and olives roasted with spices. Stuffed chicken with rice, raisins and olives. Qamama tagine with onions and honey. Finally, a choice of the different couscous, rice with milk, semolina with sour milk. The m’hanncha or haloua served at marriages and circumcisions. Diversity is not lacking and, even if the basic ingredients are few, the dishes – thanks to the different spices and the imagination of the cooks – offer a variety of which the appetite never tires.
Receptions in Fez, with the courtesy of the hosts, the opulence of the surroundings, the elegance of the costumes, the Andalusian music, the dances of the chikhat, the conversation, and the culinary art – all combine to form the summit of a rich culture.
THE KITCHEN
On going into the kitchen of a house in Fez you are struck by the austerity of the room, far removed from the brilliant arsenal and laboratory atmosphere of the modern kitchen. In the semi-darkness, so cool in summer, so mortally damp with the rain in the winter, the cooking utensils are of glazed earthenware or copper. The kanoun, a movable brazier of sun-baked clay, and a few holes in a tiled kitchen stove are the only cooking apparatus. The charcoal which perfumes the brochettes and allows the sauces to simmer gently dirties and blackens the whitewashed walls and is the only form of heating.
No chairs, an old carpet folded and placed on the zellijes serves as a seat for the exuberant black woman, come, according to tradition since the Algerian exodus, from Tetuan, from whence emerge the most highly esteemed cooks. The young servants, babbling little parakeets, bare feet in wooden sandals, bright coloured dresses whirling around as they bustle about, ready to obey at the slightest gesture from the dada, queen and priestess of the kitchen. She is dressed in long multi-coloured robes tucked up in front, draped and knotted at the back, with wide sleeves held in place by a twisted silken cord; a heavy flowered bulk with a face of ebony or bronze beneath the fringed turban. Her arms and ankles are encircled by silver bracelets which tinkle at every gesture. She is complete mistress and queen in her own domain.
In the darkness of the room lit only by the red gleam of copper and charcoal, enlivened by the sound of water dripping from the fountain on to the tiles, the hammering of the pestle and mortar and the voice of the dada scolding the servants, one is saturated with the smell of spices, the pungency of olive oil and smen which rasp the throat; at the same time one is enveloped in the sweetness of sandalwood, mint and roses. In this country where time doesn’t count, isn’t the rusticity of the cooking apparatus the secret of these dishes so patiently prepared? Happy the town where women still have the time and taste to cook well.
In this room where empiric drugs are elaborated and tagines sweetened, where orange blossom is distilled and pepper ground, no gesture is ever made without first saying ‘Bsmillah’ to ask for Allah’s blessing.
UTENSILS FOR COOKING AND SERVING
I would like to make you see the glitter of the copper and brass pots, the colour of the baskets made from esparto grass and doum; praise the shape of the coarsely decorated brown and ochre pottery; have you feel the roughness of the wood, the artlessness of the earthenware, the simplicity and primitive austerity of the shapes and raw materials; and at same time show you the rich decoration of the English and Chinese porcelain, the painted and gilded cut glass from central Europe.
Boqrej: a kettle used for boiling water for tea.
Chkoua: a goatskin bottle used for carrying water.
Chtato:
