Brain and Liver on a Stick: The Quest for True Moroccan Cuisine (MOROCCO - part 3 of 3)

For my final meal in Casablanca, I was determined to find "Tahricht"(containing offal: brain, tripe, lung, heart rolled up on a stick of oak and cooked on embers), a description which I had read in the article on Berber cuisine in Wikipedia. (Forgive all the Wikipedia references. It is one of the few free-access websites available onboard.) Berbers are a native people of North Africa, west of the Nile Valley. They are most prominently represented in Algeria and Morocco and have heavily influenced the culture and cuisine of Morocco. Mmmm brain, why not? I generally prefer the nastier nuggets of animals, namely tendon, gizzard, tongue, tripe etc. in lieu of "meat,"the muscle, the marble, the fat, what have you...brain and liver on a stick, sounded right up my alley. After dining on multiple tagines, couscous, and the classic must-eats of North Africa (I will return to these momentarily), I was adamant in sampling something a bit farther off the beaten path. My obsession became apparent when I dismissed severally perfect chawarma (or shawarma) rotisseries at 2 PM, to the distressed grumble of my stomach and my famished friends. My singleminded quest for brain and liver on a stick continued. Five chawarma shops and a couple of mint teas later, there it was. A single, ribboned, grayish mass (pig's? I'm pretty sure) displayed harmlessly on a steel platter in the window-front display of a casual eatery. BINGO! Skewered liver cubes stacked in neat rows beckoned from another metal tray nearby. The jovial, bellied owner confirmed "cerebrum,"gesturing a halo around his head as I nodded vigorously, eyes wide, and jabbed my finger at the last brain standing. My mute enthusiasm surely amused him, but he was very nice about serving up my order. For less than fiver dollars, I indulged in a cultural experience as much as a culinary treat. The grilled brain was particularly delicious, sandwiched between a crusty French roll and served with french fries and cold rice pilaf on the side. Its texture was oddly like wobbly but not runny scrambled eggs, with the softer "curdles"of tissue held together by a sparse web of stringy vessels. The flavor was delightfully packed with the rich umami characteristic of meat. As for the liver, it was fine but not exceptional, dry from the grill and texturally deteriorated.

THE (other) FOODS
The food in Morocco immediately appealed to me. Influenced by the mild Mediterranean climate, the cuisine is distinctive from Spain but similarly bountiful in the basic staples of olives, oil, citrus fruits, and seafood. Spices stain the dishes with their colorful pigments and were historically used to prolong the life of meats or to overpower their rancid taste. Salads of fresh lettuce, cucumbers, onions, and tomatoes are drizzled with vinegar and parsley or stuffed into chawarma sandwiches along with gerkins. Tagines, meaty braises intensified with the flavor of briny olives and preserved citrus, or sweetened with dried fruits and cinnamon, are left to bubble over a squat vase of coal. The result is a highly condensed, harmonious melange of assertive ingredients, perfect for dipping fresh Moroccan loaves or spooning over couscous. The word tagine also refers to the conical clay cooking vessel characteristic to the flavorful dish. The cone-shaped lid redirects the condensation back into the stew to maintain its moisture throughout cooking. I couldn't resist swaddling one away in my suitcase to bring home.



Examples of their ballsy flavor combinations:
- Chicken with brined olives, salt preserved lemons, onions, turmeric...
- Lamb with meaty prunes, golden raisins (sultans), cinnamon, toasted almonds...
- Lamb chunks with eggs in khlii (clarified butter, i.e. ghee) - The waiter clarified our order several times to ensure that we knew this was a traditional dish and not your classic sunny-side up with sausage.

* For all the cooks out there, ask me for a recipe interpretation of these dishes a few months after I return.

Couscous is the primary starch eaten and also the national dish of Morocco (I know right? Now we're all wondering what the National dish of America is). The tiny beads of pasta are fashioned from semolina flour and are miniscule, mere fractions of its cousin, the voter-ballot chad-sized Israeli couscous. Couscous accompanies tagines and curried legumes, or buries chunks of meat with stewed vegetables spooned on top.

A WORD ABOUT CINNAMON
Moroccans love their spices and cinnamon plays a leading role, making its way into an inconceivable number of sweet and salty dishes. Despite it's potency, the spice is never overwhelming and can be used so sparingly that at times you barely recognized the tingle at the back of your tongue is warm from the piquancy of cinnamon.

Pastilla (or bastilla), a pastry specialty of Fez (the ancient capital of Morocco), demonstrates the sweet and savory uniqueness of cinnamon. Papery filo layers are filled with a mixture of shredded chicken, eggs, onions, cinnamon and a touch of sugar, wrapped into a package, and baked until flaky and golden. Just before serving, the pastry is dusted rather liberally with cinnamon and powdered sugar, an essential accent to the dish. (Picture the composition of Greek spanakopita). I received contradictory information on the availability of pastilla, including one fellow who insisted that I needed to special order the pastry a day in advance. Pastilla is actually quite common in most Moroccan eateries and also available with an alternative spicy fish filling.

* I'm still unclear whether the actual name of the dish is "pastilla"or "bastilla". Certain people I spoke with thought I wanted pasta when I asked for "pastilla"so it might be safer to go with "bastilla".

Cinnamon is also surprising in the most basic of presentations. For the final course in a traditional dinner with a Moroccan family, we were served a simple but exceptional pairing of oranges sliced crosswise and sprinkled lightly with cinnamon. The sweet spiciness of cinnamon enriched the natural tanginess of the oranges. Dress it up with a few sprigs of Moroccan mint and you're set to impress nearly anyone. (Start with juicy, outstanding oranges).

Cheers until Namibia where I hear they're into big game and barbeque.