Morocco, part three: sweet pastilla

I love Saturday. A real, proper day off with a sleep-in at the end and vague memories of drunkenness from the night before. So, onto a sweet Moroccan dessert, perfect for the weekend.

Apple and cream pastilla for two

Three large apples (peeled and chopped into small cubes)
1-2 sheets of filo (to make about 6 small rounds)
250 grams of almonds
1/2 litre milk
2 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp orange flower water
2 tbsp honey
Corn starch
Butter
Nutmeg

The do
First, a neat trick for shelling almonds: soak them in boiling water for about twenty minutes and the husk will slide right off. Then toast them on a low heat in the oven until they are golden. While the almonds are toasting, soften the chopped apple pieces in a pan with the butter and a sprinkling of nutmeg. Cut your filo sheets into rounds and toast them in the oven until they are crisp and golden. Roughly crush the almonds and mix them in a bowl with warmed honey until they are coated.

In a saucepan, bring the milk to the boil. As soon as it boils, lower the heat and whisk in some corn starch. Add the sugar and orange flower water. Simmer until it thickens into a cream and let it cool.

Lay a filo round on each plate, pile with some of the apple then the nut mix, drizzle with a little more warmed honey then repeat the layers until you've used all the mix. Finally, pour the cream over the top and crunch your spoon into this sweet pile of appley goodness.

morocco, part two: Zaalouk

The first of the two main dishes I cooked with Lahcen in Fes was Zaalouk, a smokey aubergine stew spiced with cumin and paprika. (I learnt a brilliant general cooking tip during its preparation: to pulp raw tomatoes, chop them in half horizontally and use a box grater to grate the flesh away from the skin.)

The recipe includes preserved lemons. No biggie if you don't have them but they are apparently quite easy to make -- you score some lemons, overstuff them with salt, squeeze them into a jar, top it up with more salt, water and lemon juice and then let them fester for four weeks. I set my first batch in the cupboard on the weekend so can't say how they're going yet. Will let you know next month.



What you need for Zaalouk
2-3 aubergines
2-3 tomatoes
Finely chopped chillies, seeds discarded (2-3 if mild, 1 if hot)
2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 handful of fresh parsley, finely chopped
1/4 of a chopped, preserved lemon (not essential)
1 pinch each of ground cumin, paprika, ground black pepper
Lemon juice
Olive oil
A handful of olives and strips of preserved lemon skin to serve (if you have it)

The Do
To get your Zaalouk smokey as Dusty Springfield you really want to start by cooking the aubergine directly on a medium flame on your stovetop, letting them blister on the outside and turning regularly until they are scalded black all over and going limp. (If, like me, you don't have gas, bugger. You can do it in the oven.) When they are cooked, seal the aubergines in a plastic bag for at least twenty minutes. It will be very easy to remove their skins thereafter.

Meanwhile, slice your tomatoes in half and grate the flesh into a bowl (such a genius way to leave the skins behind). Set aside. Fry the finely chopped chillies in olive oil for a few minutes before adding the garlic. Soften over medium heat (chuck in a little wine if you so desire), then add the tomatoes and chopped, preserved lemon. Once the toms are heated through, mix in your spices and a splash more olive oil. Let the mix reduce over a low heat until the tomatoes have thickened. Meanwhile take your cooled, smokey aubergines out of the plastic, peel off the skin and chop them good. Add them to the mix and mash it all up over the heat until it fuses into a lovely, thick, velvety stew. Remove from heat and let cool for a few minutes before stirring in the fresh parsley. Sprinkle with olives, lemon juice and preserved lemon peel. In my limited experience, Zaalouk is best accompanied by fresh, crusty bread for scooping, lots of smiles and a bloody good view.

make mine Moroccan: part one

When I went to Fes the weekend before last I was under no illusion that I'd be getting to know the place particularly well. Four days is not the right time for cultural immersion and I pretty much let myself off the hook by remaining totally ignorant prior to landing. Thankfully, I got lucky. And the instigator was food.



I booked a class with local chef, Lahcen Beqqi, via the joint I stayed in, Dar Roumana (it is beyond beautiful and owned by a fantastic couple, if you don't mind splashing out a bit). When Lahcen arrived with a shopping basket at 9.30 on my first morning I was a little dazed after getting in late the night before. We headed straight into the throng of the souk, with stalls containing every kind of produce imagineable in the theatrical old-city setting of the medina. Here I got the first inkling of a very practical bent in the Moroccan kitchen: no part of plant or animal goes to waste. It can leave a vegetarian feeling a little squeamish.



We filled Lahcen's basket as he chatted about food and culture and gently pushed me out of gobsmacked bystander status. To his eternal credit, Lahcen wants you to get amongst it, talk to stall holders and buy ingredients for yourself.

Once we'd sampled dates, seen live chickens lose their heads, marvelled at some genital produce at the camel stall and filled the basket with fresh, tasty goodness, it was time to head to Lahcen's kitchen. There, I met his charming accomplices, the two Fatimas ('Fatima cous cous' and 'Fatima tagine') and enjoyed a mint tea and the breathtaking rooftop view of the medina before getting my apron on.



Over the next few hours we made four delicious dishes and I got some brilliant cooking tips. But Lahcen's classes are not really about equipping students with fancy techniques. Food is history, family, country, music and friendship, and it was conversation along these lines that was most enriching. If he had his way, the classes would be part of a broader cultural experience, the full Morocco story. He is already developing his business, Fes Cooking, in this direction, pushing you to engage as much as you allow yourself. In hindsight, I would have gone a little better prepared, with small change for the souk and some arabic so I could talk more to stallholders and the Fatimas in the kitchen. But, you know, as long as you are open to whatever interaction might come your way, there is no doubt you will have a wonderful day. And I did. Followed by the next day and the next and the next. I loved every minute of my Fes jaunt.



Recipes start tomorrow, beginning with Zaalouk...