a savoury Moroc­can stew

Now I have to realise that we’ve come back down to earth (Lon­don) and I have no rea­son to post any more pho­tographs of Mar­rakech. Sob. This is it.

How­ev­er. I have a recipe for you that jus­ti­fies just this one more Mor­ro­can post. I know, it’s not so hor­rid com­ing back to real­i­ty when real­i­ty is the total­ly cool town of Lon­don. Pret­ty soon I will be back in the mode of appre­ci­at­ing all things Eng­lish. In fact I did laugh in a recent con­ver­sa­tion with my sworn inter­preter, Avery, when we were watch­ing some­thing on tele­vi­sion and I said, “Wait a minute: ‘the dog’s beans,’ what does that mean?” Avery con­sid­ered for a moment and then said, “It’s a lot like ‘the cat’s paja­mas.’ Or ‘the cat’s whiskers.’ ”

Thank you, bilin­gual child.

So, din­ner time in the real world beck­oned last night. And although we left behind the actu­al tagine (the pot­tery dish so typ­i­cal of Mar­rakech, with a wide flat base and a high, stock­ing-cap-like top) that the car­pet guys offered me (and a good thing since I don’t know how we would have fit one more item in our lug­gage), I decid­ed I could try to repro­duce the chick­en dish we had on the birth­day evening. Why not? I have to say that as much as one com­plains about Tesco, it’s hard to crit­i­cise a bor­ing, enor­mous super­mar­ket that con­tains ingre­di­ents like pre­served lemons and pit­ted oil-cured black olives. Who’s buy­ing this stuff? If it takes even me, no slouch at gro­cery shop­ping, a year and a half to want such things, who else is keep­ing them afloat at the Cromwell Road Tesco? Well, any­way, enough spec­u­lat­ing. The point is, if you can find the prop­er ingre­di­ents (and I’ve giv­en you prop­er links so you can order them online if you have to), a tru­ly superb and exot­ic chick­en dish is in your future. Grant­ed, I was lucky enough to have the mys­te­ri­ous spice blend called ras el hanout fresh from Mar­rakech, but you can order it too. And here’s the link for lemon grass pow­der, which I think is half of the “lemon gin­ger” I bought at the Moroc­can spice shop. Pow­dered gin­ger should pro­vide the rest. The recipe I’m giv­ing you begins with cut­ting up a whole chick­en. This is designed to pro­vide you with the unwant­ed bones to pop into a stock­pot with car­rots, onions, pars­ley and salt, cov­ered with water, and give you a very nice chick­en stock at the end of the evening. When I’m lazy and shop at super­mar­kets where all the meat is pack­aged up and you can’t choose the pieces you want, it’s impos­si­ble to find a whole chick­en cut up. If you can, more pow­er to you. But then you lose the stock, which today is sim­mer­ing on the stove with cele­ri­ac root, for soup for lunch. Any­way. I digress.

Djez Makalli (Moroc­can Chick­en Braised with Pre­served Lemons and Olives)
(serves four)

5 cloves garlic
2 shal­lots or 1 onion
large hand­ful flat pars­ley leaves
juice of 1 lemon
2 tsps salt
1 tbsp ras el hanout
1 tsp lemon-gin­ger powder
1/2 tsp fresh ground black pepper
dash of brandy
1 large roast­ing chick­en, cut into legs and breasts
2 tbsps sun­flower or rape­seed oil
1 tbsp butter
3 large car­rots, cut in disks
2 cups tiny new pota­toes, scrubbed
2 small or 1 large pre­served lemon, fine­ly chopped
1 cup oil-cured black olives, pitted
chick­en stock to cov­er (about 600 ml, or 2 1/2 cups)
4 tbsps flour

Place first nine ingre­di­ents in blender or Mag­im­ix and whizz until it achieves a rough paste. Place chick­en pieces in a large bowl and rub with the paste. Set aside while you melt the but­ter and oil togeth­er in a large, heavy pot with a close-fit­ting lid. Put chick­en pieces and all the paste into the pot and stir over high heat until light­ly browned on all sides. Throw in car­rots and pota­toes, pre­served lemon and olives, and pour over stock until every­thing is cov­ered, give it a good stir. Cov­er the pot as tight­ly as you can and turn heat down to a high sim­mer. Cook for at least 1 1/2 hours, stir­ring only very occasionally.

At the very end, ladle 1/2 cup or so of the broth into a cup and add the flour. Stir until com­plete­ly mixed and then add the mix­ture to the broth in the cook­ing pot. Stir (with a whisk if nec­es­sary to break up any lumps) until the broth achieves a nice gravy-like consistency.

You could serve this dish with cous­cous, rice, or I sup­pose noo­dles. I found the pota­toes to be just enough starch.

****************

It was so good! And real­ly quite close to the dish we had in Moroc­co, so if I had been able to add men in tuxe­dos, live Mar­rakech music, lots of wine flow­ing freely, and a hol­i­day atmos­phere, it would have been… perfect.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.