Petit Riz

guest post by Sarah Sahel

Cooking requires the constant devolution of time. It is a demanding and regular lover. It does not settle for compromises, but gives itself fully to persistence. Ever since I graduated from my masters two years ago and joined the more time-consuming “professional world,” cooking has become a one-time fling, and I am an ungrateful child, defeated by withdrawal. I don’t give enough, and I don’t get back.

Fortunately, August allows for long delayed encounters. It is that time of the year when time pauses with the gentle languor of summer. That time when people sit at a terrace to write postcards and send their love from… to friends and family. I took this opportunity to return home, to Casablanca, Morocco, and the foreign land embraced me with open arms.

Could you come on Wednesday and help me prepare a Moroccan meal for four?
Wakha (ok) Sarah. What do you want to cook?
No clue. Anything Moroccan!
A kessksou? (Local appellation for couscous, the internationally renowned semolina dish) A tagine? (A traditional way of cooking in a pyramidal clay pot) A pigeon b’stilla? (A sweet-and-sour meat pie made with filo pastry)
Something not too heavy for a summer day.
Then a tagine it must be! Let’s start with the basics: chicken, olives, and candied lemon.

Naima and I head to Casablanca’s central market. It is 9am on a bank holiday and the city still slumbers. The hustle and bustle of the streets has stopped and the market seems unusually calm, with the vociferous stallholders surprisingly silent. We buy the meat, vegetables, and spices from different vendors. These vendors share their stories, cooking advice, and often a lesson in Arabic for me. Naima, the maternal figure she is, helps create a bond nourished by genuine smiles. To conclude our visit, we buy long and colorful flowers that will decorate the dining table. It is almost noon when we settle in the kitchen.

I cut the onions and garlic while Naima carves the chicken with her iron hand. Smells and flavors develop with the spices. Bright turmeric, strong pepper, sweet cinnamon, spicy ginger, salt and oil – a simple combination in which the chicken, olives and candied lemon simmer for over an hour. The cooking of the meat ends in the oven, while the sauce thickens on the stove. I offer Naima mint tea, as we have stopped dancing around the kitchen and need to be patient.

Tonight, inch’allah, I will impress my closest Moroccan friends with this dish, a simple testimony of my belonging.

Ingredients:

1 chicken (whole or cut in 4 pieces)
25 green olives
1 candied lemon (replace by fresh lemon if not available)
4 big onions
6 cloves of garlic
1 cube of stock
4 tablespoons of olive oil
1 tablespoon of sunflower oil
1 bouquet of cilantro
Vinegar
½ and 1 teaspoon turmeric
½ and 1 teaspoon ginger
Cinnamon
Salt
Pepper
Water

Directions:

Remove the chicken’s internal organs if they’re still there. Rinse the chicken under water, then with some vinegar, then under water again.

In a large container, mix ½ tsp. turmeric, ½ tsp. pepper, ½ tsp. ginger, two pinches of salt, and 2 tbsp. of olive oil. Lather the chicken with the spice mix.

In a large pan or casserole dish, mix 1 tsp. of turmeric, 1 tsp. of pepper, 1 tsp. of ginger, a pinch of cinnamon, two generous pinches of salt, the stock, 2 tbsps. olive oil, and 1 tbsp. sunflower oil.

Slice onions and garlic thinly and sauté in the pan. Cut the candied lemon into small pieces and add to the pan. Add the chicken with 1 cup of water. Rinse the cilantro and submerge the bouquet in the large pan. Cover and let the chicken cook for approximately 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 350F. Place the olives in a separate container and cover them with water (to remove the salt).

Once the chicken is cooked, put the meat in a separate plate in a hot oven so that the meat continues to cook for 10 additional minutes. Uncover the casserole in order to thicken the sauce.

Right before serving add the olives and remove the bouquet of cilantro.