Findings and Experiences
A Change in Taste
“Moroccan cuisine is considered to be one of the finest in the world…”
Fatema Hal, Food of Morocco
“Welcome to Morocco!” screamed my mouth as I took my first sip of insanely sweet mint tea. Not entirely what I expected, flavor wise, but maybe I can get used to this, I thought to myself as I prepared for another swig. A similar reaction occurred when I first bit into a cactus fruit, and just about everything else I’ve tasted and eaten in Morocco. One the most difficult and exciting aspects of moving to a new place, is the change in cuisine. “Tastes are not simply a reflection of our identity but work to construct our cultural identity: we may be what we eat but what we eat also produces who we are,” Bob Ashley argues in Food and Cultural Studies (59). Our taste buds are partial to where we come from; our palates are confused by the change of spices and textures of this new food and are bodies crave the flavors of home.
And, oh how my taste buds have changed over the course of my time here. Looking back at old observations of food, I can see this even more clearly. Back in September, while Ramadan was still in full swing, I could barely stand the sight and taste of Moroccan “pancakes,” or msemmen. Now I find it hard to go a day without them, and find myself constantly searching for that warm smell of oil and bread that I know will accompany a woman flipping that delicious bread on a hot griddle.
On Friday, September 17, 2010, I wrote ten reasons why I love ‘couscous Friday,’ the preparation and eating of couscous each and every Friday afternoon in homes across Morocco. Not only do I enjoy the idea that on Friday, almost every family ends the day early to gather around the table, and most likely the TV too, to share this “Moroccan” meal, but, “It doesn’t involve bread” (reason number five). Back in September a meal eaten without chobz was more than welcome. Today, almost three months later, I find it almost impossible to make it through a meal without asking for more bread.
These changes in tastes and preferences create a sense of connection to this place I’ve been living for the past four months. Each city has its own type of bread, cuisine, and food culture as does each individual. Every place I’ve been, and each person I’ve met has helped shaped my perceptions of Moroccan culture and made me feel closer to this country, and most of these connections have, somehow, been related to food.
You are what you eat
“To share food is to be of one body…. through eating the food of others, we remain as one.”
Terence McKenna, Food of the Gods
Coming to Morocco during Ramadan was somewhat of a shock. Not only did I have to “deal” with a complete change in culture and lifestyle, but also the whole eating system was rearranged, creating a chaos within itself. Instead of eating “normal” meals throughout the day, Muslims across the globe fast while the sun is up. This results in changes to people’s eating habits. They eat breakfast, or f’tour, when the sun begins to set, which in Rabat was around seven in the evening, have dinner around ten and then sometimes another meal before the sun begins to rise again. Since I was simultaneously living with practicing Muslims and going to school and spending the day with non-Muslim Americans, I was reaping the benefits of both food worlds. Each morning my host mom would prepare a large breakfast for me, most likely as her way of showing hospitality, consisting of a large pot of tea (see recipe) and multiple types of bread and cookies. During the day, I would enjoy lunch provided at the Center for Cross-Cultural Learning, away from the disproving eyes of the fasting nation. At home with my host family I broke the fast with dates, harira, plates of cookies and various breads. We would eat again late in the night around ten o’clock. This resembled dinner more or less, with a large communal dish in the center that consisted of some sort of vegetables cooked soft and eaten with bread. Sometimes individual salad-like dishes would appear and dinner would always be followed by dessert of fruit. My host mom would also eat again prior to the morning call to pray and the beginning of the next day’s fasting. Thanks to my academic schedule and the eating schedule of my host family I managed to eat approximately four or five meals a day, not including snacks that I would find in the streets. This somewhat excessive eating allowed me to not only interact with my peers at school, but also my host family, shop keepers, and waiters at cafes. I got a glimpse of Morocco during Ramadan, which made it especially interesting to compare eating habits here after it ended.
Certain staples, such as tea, fruit, and bread were always kept available in the house and every Friday M’barka, my host mother, would start preparing couscous as soon as she returned from taking my younger host sisters to school. While standing in the kitchen fluffing couscous for the second time one Friday, M’barka revealed the secret to delicious couscous:
There are two types of couscous, machine and handmade. The handmade one is better. The machine made kind isn’t good for your stomach. I buy this [couscous] from a lady who makes it at her house. It’s more expensive, but it’s better, so I buy it.
This ritual, which I helped with and discussed with her, shows the importance of this special Moroccan dish. Spending money on other items, such as new clothing, will be skipped so that a finer couscous can be prepared each and every Friday and contribute to M’barka’s identity as a Moroccan mother.
Beyond the food
“Putting a great dish on the table is our way of celebrating the wonders of form we humans can create…”
Michael Pollan, The Omnivore’s Dilemma
The preparation of food is just as important as the final dish. Food is rarely made moments before consuming it, but rather is begun much earlier and slowly prepared and cooked for many hours prior to meal time. In The Raw and the Cooked, Claude Levi-Strauss examines the relationships between food and its preparations. Through this examination he concludes that, “not only does cooking mark the transition from nature to culture, but through it and by means of it, the human state can be defined with all its attributes” (164). Food is culture because of the conscious decision of what an individual chooses to eat, Massimo Montanari similarly argues.
Food becomes culture when it is prepared… Through such pathways food takes shape as a decisive element of human identity and as one of the most effective means of expressing and communicating that identity. (xi-xii)
The care and time that anyone, regardless of their nationality or background puts into preparing food reinforces this argument. In Morocco, I’ve found this to be especially true. Changing the raw food to cooked “serves as a crucial mediating category between…nature and culture” (Ashley 30). This change allows individuals and groups to express themselves through the food that they prepare for themselves, as well as those they are sharing a meal with.
Choices
“Eating is one form of creative activity in which subjects are allowed to make choices about what will come to constitute their very being, both corporeally and symbolically.”
Carolyn Rouse & Janet Hoskins, Purity, Soul Food, and Sunni Islam.
Being a vegetarian in a country like Morocco, where there is some sort of infatuation with meat has proven to be difficult. The concept of vegetarianism is almost completely foreign and even when the term is recognized it is not completely understood. The social symbols and status that accompany serving and eating meat, as well as being limited economically to the luxury of choosing what one eats add to this confusion. Though M’barka would serve meat and vegetables separately, she didn’t completely grasp the concept of what it means to not eat meat and more often than not vegetables were cooked together with meat and only separated when placed on the table.
Tajinia, my host mom in Al A’tisha, struggled with the idea of not serving meat for the week that Tulsi, another SIT student, and I lived with her. For Tajinia, serving meat was a sign of hospitality, and by not serving it she was lowering herself to a social standing that was unacceptable. Despite this, or maybe as a result of this, she went out of her way to prepare vegetable based foods meals that she thought we would enjoy and served multiple pots of tea with extra sugar over the course of the day. Sitting in the “kitchen” one afternoon watching Tajinia prepare a plate of lightly fried peppers, I began asking the names of various ingredients in Arabic. Somewhere along the way, the word for eggplant entered the conversation and I shared how much I love eggplants. This, for some reason, was especially humorous to Tajinia and my sisters. That night for dinner zaalouk (see recipe) was placed on the table before us, with a special emphasis placed on the eggplant cooked into the dish.
Identity and Culture
Food is something we need to survive and it also represents a large aspect of who we are. As a result of this, we choose foods to reinforce aspects of our identity and create an image of ourselves. For the holiday of Aid Al-Adha, almost every Moroccan family slaughters at least one sheep to commemorate the sacrifice of the ram in place of Ishmael, Abraham’s son. In the days leading up to the Aid, sheep could be found being herded through the streets of every medina, carted around by men and pushed out of trucks into the open arms of every Moroccan. Mohammed, a farmer outside of Marrakech, told me that he bought two sheep for this special day and spent approximately four months wages to do so, M’barka had been saving all year to purchase the sheep that spent the night prior to its death in a corner of the small apartment. Hassan, a friend’s host dad, went three days early to pick out a ‘good’ sheep, but didn’t have enough money to buy the one he wanted. He had to try again a few days later with more money, and most likely had to settle on a smaller, less expensive sheep.
Each family buying a sheep, or in Mohammed’s case multiple sheep, to slaughter seemed excessive to me. But the rush to buy a sheep and walk it home goes beyond the religious aspect of the holiday. To not have a sheep would be a sort of social suicide. All the neighbors would talk, and question your religiosity as well as financial standing. Even if you have to save for a year, borrow money or take out a loan, like so many Moroccans do purchasing a sheep to slaughter is almost mandatory.
Food choice is also largely controlled by socioeconomic status. The luxury of being able to eat any food one wants affects the importance and opinion one has of food. Those of lower socioeconomic status have limited choice regarding food and may view it more as a tool of survival. Living with a low-income family in the Rabat medina has allowed me to experience and compare what food means within this socioeconomic class and to others as well. Despite choice being somewhat limited in terms of quality, I never found there to be a scarcity of food and my family always managed to have meat, a somewhat expensive food option.
Conclusion
“Moroccan cuisine is so much more than the ubiquitous tagines and couscous…” Tara Stevens states in the introduction of the Café Clock Cookbook. Three months ago I couldn’t have disagreed more. Everything seemed to taste the same, and none of these tastes satisfied me in the ways that I wanted them too. As I get ready to leave Morocco, I completely agree that Moroccan cuisine goes beyond tagines and couscous, but it is a way for Moroccans to express their identities, connect with one another, and allow outsiders to enter their culture.
Transitioning into a new lifestyle in completely different culture is not easy. Learning the cultural and societal norms to smoothly interact with members of a society is challenging. To be able to understand what defines the identity of this new culture can make this transition easier. However, defining identity can be difficult.
Various constructs such as gender, religion, and social class help to form and reinforce identity. These labels or identity markers influence the food one chooses to prepare and eat well food simultaneously helps to support these labels and influence identity. Food then creates a bridge from cultural norms and taboos to something tangible that can be shared within a group and with outsiders. After spending four months in Morocco, I’ve had my fair share of uncomfortable experiences trying to adjust to life here, and food has helped to reduce a lot of this discomfort. Sharing a meal or a pot of tea with someone can help to push aside negative interactions, at least momentarily.
In The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Michael Pollan suggests that, “eating’s not a bad way to get to know a place” and I couldn’t agree more (p. 408). By eating my way across Morocco I have managed to forge friendships and relationships with diverse populations of Morocco and it’s many visitors. Walking through the streets of every city I’ve spent a significant amount of time in, I notice that the majority of the individuals who I feel a connection to on some level, are those that have provided me with some sort of food. From the man at the hanout where I buy my nuts in Rabat, to the little café where I filled myself with bissara in Tangier and to the produce shop where I bought bags of fruit in Essaouira, each proprietor has a special place in my memories of Morocco and my experience here. I can barely remember the faces of the random people I pass daily on the street, the woman at the ticket counter at the train station or the man sitting behind one of the numerous ‘tabacs,’ but those that offered me a chance to taste, smell and savor Morocco? They will forever be engrained in my mind.
and on that note I'm on to more (food advenures).....london, barcelon, florence, rome[tapas, sangria, paninis, gelato and more]....and HOME AGAIN
to share the food i love the most with the people i love the most!!!
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