Gourmet Supper Club: Moroccan

The Menu

(I'm going with English rather than embarrass myself. Arabic-speaking friends, forgive me.)

Bessara (Fava Bean Dip)

Cheese Mantecaos
Olives
Roasted Almonds 

Bisteeya

Moroccan Salad of Blood Oranges, Spice-Roasted Carrots, Arugula, and Olives

Harissa-Roasted Squash

M'Hencha (snake pastry)

Dates Stuffed with Almond Paste

Apricot Cream with Yogurt and Pistachios

Moroccan Mint Tea  

Daniel and I love Moroccan food and I was raised on old black-and-white movies (a little Casablanca, anyone?), so it should come as no surprise that Morocco has long occupied a spot on our Top 20 Places to Visit Before We Die list. But the real reason we chose Morocco as our theme? Ruth Reichl. 

Years ago a dear friend, Erin Lima, gave me a copy of Ruth Reichl's Tender at the Bone. (If you haven't read it, go buy it immediately and find yourself transported by this hilarious, poignant memoir meets cookbook.) I gobbled up the book and eagerly tried out the recipes. Brownies, raspberry tart, devil's food layer cake with fluffy white frosting, pork and black bean stew: they all impressed. Ruth (and, yes, I am calling her by her first name because we're actually friends, even though she doesn't know that yet) dedicates a chapter to her post-college idyll in Morocco. Of course that chapter's recipe is for the famous bisteeya. Traditionally served as a first course of a large feast or banquet (and popular in Moroccan restaurants), bisteeya truly feeds a crowd. It's lush and labor-intensive and calls for a high-drama event. 

For years, I kept waiting for the perfect opportunity to make it. I think it's pretty clear our supper club friends can get down with an elaborate entrée. We had our high-drama event.

These cheese "crackers" that Nicole made--more like buttery cumin-seed delights--were a big hit, especially with the spicy olives.

To make bisteeya, you start with phyllo dough. Actually, technically, it should be homemade warka, according to the Julia Child of Moroccan food, Paula Wolfert. I dutifully consulted Wolfert's 5-page recipe in The Food of Morocco (a really cool book, full of stunning photography and enchanting stories from her years of living in Morocco, with highlights on Moroccan markets, food, culture, manners, and, of course, recipes). Then I watched her 7-minute youtube video, in which she uses a paintbrush to makes ONE warka leaf from homemade batter (which had to rest overnight). To make bisteeya, you need about one pound of warka/phyllo dough, i.e. about 25/40 leaves. Being the math whiz that I am (ahem), I figured out that it would take me almost an entire day just to make the warka pastry. Other recipes, dear Ruth's included, don't even bother to mention warka, since phyllo dough supposedly works almost as well and is certainly easier to come by. 

I actually considered it, people. The lust for authenticity runs pretty deep and is firmly supported by our crazy supper club friends. Thank goodness, Daniel intervened as the voice of reason to inform me there was no way on earth we'd be making homemade warka. Phew.

Anyway, you take your warka/phyllo dough and layer it with the shredded meat of two whole chickens (traditionally, squab, or pigeon) poached with parsley, garlic, ginger, turmeric, and onion; a pound of oil-roasted blanched almonds ground with cinnamon and sugar; and almost a dozen eggs cooked in a sauce made from the leftover chicken broth, butter, and lemon. The combination sounds bizarre, but trust me, it comes together to hit all your flavor points--salty, sweet, sour, umami. Mmm.

Daniel and I used a 15-inch paella pan to make the bisteeya. Flipping that baby was quite the feat.

 

  

Roasted squash rubbed with homemade harissa, full of mortar-pounded cumin seed, fennel, caraway, coriander, cayenne, garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil.

 

Amanda went completely wild, making THREE gorgeous desserts redolent with almonds, rosewater, and orange blossom water. She even brought along an apple baum cake from our new neighborhood bakery, Glaze, just in case. Isn't the M'Hencha (snake pastry) stunning?

 

The mint tea was a huge hit. You make it with gunpowder green tea, fresh mint, and what seems an ungodly amount of sugar--until you taste it and realize it's just perfect. Tradition says you must drink three glasses of mint tea before leaving someone's home. I think we had at least that, because I was up until 2am wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. (Yes, word to the wise, green tea does have caffeine.)

Delicious! Let's just say we had leftovers for everyone for a week.

Someday we will get to Morocco. In the meantime this quote reminds me of our magical time in Cairo with our dear friend Jo, and how I imagine a city like Marrakech to feel also....

"If one loses one's way in Morocco, civilization vanishes as though it were a magic carpet rolled up by a Djinn...it is a good thing to begin with such a mishap, not only because it develops the fatalism necessary to the enjoyment of Africa, but because it lets one at once into the mysterious heart of the country: a country so deeply conditioned by its miles and miles of uncitied wilderness that until one has known the wilderness, one cannot begin to understand the cities." 

--Edith Wharton