Paella ~ A Spanish brush stroke.

A Camel Trek Along Morocco's Atlantic Coast

The honey colored beaches of Morocco’s Atlantic coast stretch out, scalloping around rock promontories, offering seemingly endless miles to nowhere.

The only way to see them is by foot, by boat, by donkey, or by camel. Camel is the transportation of choice in these parts and nothing sounded better to me than the contrast of a camel, ship of the desert on sand, flanked by an endless ocean.

We packed up our camels from “Le Kaouki,” a sweet whitewashed, blue-shuttered respite that overlooks the village of  Sidi Kaouki. From here, we could head out well-fed on kefta and homemade bread.  Well provisioned, we had collected our basics from the locals. Eggs. (On the back of a camel?) Vegetables. Bread. A tagine. A gas burner. Salt. Oil.  A few beers (Moroccan Especiale!)  The idea was to get fresh fish from fishermen along the way. A dinner of grilled Dorade was in our future, as well as a tagine for the catch of the day.

Our sleeping mats, strung over the camels for us to sit on, created much needed extra padding. Unless you are used to riding a camel, you can get sore really fast. Once you get into the rhythm, it’s a gentle massage for the lower part of the body that doesn’t move enough. Comparable to doing  cat-cow poses in yoga or...pole dancing. We had three endless beaches to cross, and even though we left late in the day, there was no worry or thought of time. No hurry to arrive at a destination. We weren’t quite sure where we were going, but we knew we had a tent, some food and dry land to sleep on.

Guazetto: A Saucy, Stewy Way to Serve Fish

Angelo Cabani is a mentor of mine. A spectacular chef, with big eyes, a big mustache, and a huge appetite for fine and tasty fish.

His restaurant, Locanda Miranda, is located in what he likes to call his "gastronomic hotel" by the sea. It is perched above the Bay of Poets in the pastel village of Tellaro, ancestral home of his family since the 13th century.

This Ligurian coastal settlement has seen it's share of marauders since the days of the Saracens. 

According to local legend, the watchman fell asleep and the rope to the bell tower fell into the sea. An octopus from the rocky shore below got entwined in the rope and trying to break free, woke up the town with his continual clanging. As luck would have it, the town awoke, expecting an attack just as a ship of Saracens were preparing to ascend. Lets just say that a lot of hot boiling oil was used and the village was saved...by an octopus! Angelo doesn't often use frutti di mare, but prefers deeper ocean fish, scampi and smaller fishes that swim around the rocks.

He cooks with traditional recipes and ingredients, but steps it up a notch. "People don't go out to eat what they can get at home," says Angelo. His challenge is to make it interesting.

High Atlas Needle and Thread

Mubarak took us up the long winding trail above the Kasbah to the closest village called Ammand. Breathtaking in everyway, the splendor of white on white is a freshness that penetrates the dullest of senses. White cherry blossoms in the green valley, practically holds hands with a snow capped Mt. Toubkal at 13,655 ft. The sky is beyond blue. The call to prayer bounces off the nearby mountains as the runoff rushes full on in a waterfall down to the valley below.

Robinhood, a Berber man with a sense of humor and selling techniques of an east coast car salesman, tries to usher us into his shop on the side of a dirt road. "My name is Robinhood No. 2. I take from the rich and give to the poor. If you don’t want to part with your money, ok no problem, we stay friends anyway. No couscous for me today. No money, no honey, no chiken curry, but if you like to buy something from my shop and support the village I will be very happy and my family will be too.”

Coming Home to a Country of Old Friends.

Coming to Morocco is not a stretch for me. It’s like coming home.

Yet, this time, there was some worry about arriving amid political unrest, which is quite rare if ever. After Tunisia and Egypt, Morocco, Bahrain, Algeria and Libya followed suit. Some of these North African countries fared better than others during the protests, and Libya no doubt was like upsetting a hornet's nest. 

But Morocco was sane. Some thugs took advantage of the protests there and broke a few shop windows, but the demonstrations themselves were peaceful. Reform was taken seriously and the king is responding with intelligence. He was already on the trail of change, with no fear of being overthrown. On March 9, he gave an historical speech letting the people know that he was giving up seventy percent of his power. What this means is that ministers in each region will be voted in rather than appointed by him. One thing is for sure, protest or not, the Moroccan people love their King.

Protests in general are healthy. They effect change by the people, for the people. Europeans are taught to "manifest" in school, especially against unions, etc. The French, for example, make a habit of demonstrating. We in America are a little less willing.

It’s a shame that people cancelled their trips to Morocco this spring due to fear of unrest. Those of us who know Morocco better, know that it would be extremely rare to have an overthrow. Jobs are needed and some things need to change, like certain Ministers that squander money. Is that different than any other country in the world?

Moroccan people are kind and gentle and most of all good natured. I realize that I am biased, knowing only the people that I have met within this area of southern Morocco. For the last ten years I have been working with a similar group of people in Marrakech, Berbers in the Atlas mountains and by the coast of Essaouira. I have a handful of urban, university educated local friends as well. The more I get to know them the more their sense of humor comes out. These people are mostly Berber, some Arab—but they say in Morocco, "If you scratch an Arab, you will find a Berber."

Everyday life in the Palmeraie.

 With talk of earthquakes, tsunami's and supermoons, everyday life here in the palmeraie outside of Marrakech, is thankfully quiet and peaceful. We have not fallen asleep to what's happening in the rest of the world, but what can we do?  We construct colorful and tasty tagines as offerings and read poetry aloud.  In times of turmoil and uncertainty in pockets around the globe, we know that life is not perfect and never will be. But we do what we can do to celebrate the beauty at hand.

Spring Tagine with chicken, fava and fresh fennel

Recipe: Purée of Fresh Fennel Soup

Passato di Finnochio

(Purée of Fresh Fennel Soup)

Fennel is a winter vegetable commonly used in Italy, but not so common in America. Its delicate and somewhat licorice aftertaste makes the celery-like texture delicious--either eaten raw, dipped in extra virgin olive oil and salt as in pinzimonio, or puréed into this delectable soup. The addition of dried fennel flowers adds a summery highlight, along with the color contrast and exotic smattering of saffron.

• Two fennel bulbs
• One shallot
• One potato
• Salt 
• Pepper
• Extra virgin olive oil
• Fennel flowers
• A few strands of saffron

Chop the fennel and potato into rustic chunks. Slice shallot thinly and sauté in extra virgin olive oil. Add fennel and potato and coat with the oil while stirring gently. Add water or vegetable broth to cover the soup by three finger width. Add salt and pepper. Let simmer for 20 minutes.

Put contents into a blender or food processor. Purée the soup to a velvety texture. Correct salt to taste.

Place in bowls and drizzle with extra virgin olive oil, sprinkle with a touch of dried fennel flowers and a few threads of saffron.