Couscous Friday
Couscous at Marché Central Casablanca
It’s 4 p.m. as I weave slowly home on the dusty streets of Tamraght in southern Morocco. The village is empty, covered in a siesta blanket.
Friday is the one day of the week that everyone remembers in a place where remembering days of the week is irrelevant. Life in a fishing and surfing community governs days by the ocean’s rhythm.
Friday lunchtime is when the community meets for prayers in the mosque and then heads home to share a couscous meal with their families.
I was chuffed the first time invited to a friend’s house to make couscous. First, being invited into a family’s home was a privilege. Second, I was excited to learn a new recipe that holds such prestige in Morocco and has been handed down through generations for centuries.
I’ve boiled instant-style couscous and served it as a side or salad before. Traditional Moroccan couscous served on a Friday is not like that.
It’s a ritual and a much-valued one.
Also known as ‘smida’ in Arabic or ‘keskas’ in Amazigh, fluffy, buttery couscous is served with steamed vegetables and meat, a splashing of broth, and a sweet caramelised onion topping, ‘tfaya’. If you like it spicy, a spoonful of ‘harissa’.
Couscous is one of the nation’s most popular communal dishes. Symbolising connection, community and sharing, as families gather to eat from one large plate.
If you’re a pro, try rolling it into a golf ball and eating by hand. Otherwise, a spoon will be offered.
Preparing traditional Friday couscous is hands-on, requiring patience and multi-tasking skills. It involves a couscoussier. This two-part cooking pot has a bottom pot for the meat, vegetables, herbs, and spices to simmer away slowly, with a steaming pot above for the gradual steaming of couscous. Now and then, take off the couscous, empty it in a large bowl, and massage the couscous grains by hand with butter, olive, or argan oil—this helps to separate the grains and create that light, melt-in-your-mouth couscous!
When you ask a Moroccan where to get the best couscous, 9/10 the reply I hear is -at home. Perhaps part of it is the ritual of being together—sharing a meal with your family tastes so good.
Today, I was invited to couscous at another friend’s house in the village. Her sister makes it, with help from others in a household of over ten people.
Buttery couscous that melts in your mouth. Layered with steamed vegetables, such as courgette, squash, and potato, with succulent pieces of meat a hidden surprise in the middle. My favourite part is the ‘tfaya’, a topping consisting of caramelised onion, sultanas, cinnamon and honey; gooey and delicious. For those who love a sweet-savoury combo.
‘Bismillah’, in the name of God, is pronounced before everyone dives into the couscous platter.
Couscous is traditionally washed down with a glass of ‘lben’, soured milk.
And so now here I am, walking home, slowly, slowly, with a belly full of couscous. Smiling from the inside out, I feel that cosy feeling of home, nourishment, and a tradition shared.
Siesta time.