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Recettes
Parcourez les archives par pays, par plat et par temps de cuisson.
Bessara is dried split fava beans cooked soft with garlic and olive oil, then puréed and seasoned with cumin and paprika. It is street food across Morocco, most strongly associated with the north, and it is eaten for breakfast as often as for anything else.
Its consistency is not fixed, and that is a feature rather than a vagueness. Made thick, it is a dip eaten from a shared plate with Moroccan bread. Made looser, it is a soup served in individual bowls, which is how street vendors serve it on cold mornings. The same pot produces both, depending on how much of the cooking liquid goes back in.
Traditionally the beans were cooked for hours until they collapsed entirely and then passed through a food mill. A blender does the same job in seconds and gives a smoother result, which is what most cooks now use, and the source is right that nothing is lost by it.
The condiments are not optional garnish. Bessara is served with olive oil, cumin, salt and cayenne or harissa on the side, and each person seasons their own bowl. The purée itself is deliberately mild, which only makes sense once you know that.
Note that the same dish appears elsewhere spelt bissara; they are one thing. Some cooks make it with dried split peas in place of some or all of the fava beans, which gives a lighter texture and a greener colour but changes nothing about the method or the seasoning.
Pastilla is the Moroccan dish that most confounds people who meet it for the first time: shredded spiced poultry and toasted sweetened almonds, layered inside buttered pastry and dusted with icing sugar and cinnamon. Savoury and sweet are not separated but deliberately built into the same mouthful.
It is celebration food. Pastilla appears at weddings, at Eid, and when a household wants to demonstrate hospitality to a guest, and the effort involved is part of the message. Historically it was made with pigeon; chicken is now standard, and the shift is one of availability rather than taste.
The dish is known by both names. Bastila and pastilla are the same word under different regional pronunciations and are used interchangeably in Morocco. Its regional forms diverge considerably: Fes makes a lamb version, coastal Essaouira a seafood one with prawns and fish, and Atlas households work dried fruit in for extra sweetness.
Two notes on this particular version. Its ingredient list names both phyllo dough and filo sheets, which are the same thing under two spellings. And it gives no oven temperature, deferring to whatever is printed on the pastry packet. A hot oven is what the method needs, and the figure is given below. There are a lot of almonds here, which matters for anyone with a tree nut allergy.
Fish marinated in chermoula, the North African herb, garlic and spice paste, then grilled or baked. Chermoula is used across Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia, so no single country has been assigned to this page.
Chermoula is essentially a marinade built around parsley and coriander in roughly equal measure, with garlic, cumin, paprika, lemon and olive oil. That green colour is the signature and it is also a warning: chermoula is at its best made fresh and used within a day or two, because the herbs darken and dull as they oxidise. Regional versions diverge from there, saffron in Morocco, more chilli in Tunisia, preserved lemon in some Moroccan households, but the parsley, coriander, garlic and cumin core holds everywhere.
Its main job is fish, and the pairing is not arbitrary. Cumin and paprika stand up to oily fish without overwhelming white fish, and the acidity of the lemon does the work that a squeeze of lemon at the table would do, only from the inside.
The one thing to watch is marinating time. Thirty minutes to an hour is what this recipe calls for and that is right; several hours in an acidic marinade begins to cure the fish rather than season it, which changes the texture in a way you probably do not want.
A related page on this site covers braised snapper with chimichurri, which is a South American parallel to the same idea.
Kafteji is Tunisian street food built on a single idea: fry a range of vegetables separately so each one is properly cooked, then chop them together and serve the result with bread. Potato, courgette, pepper, tomato and aubergine are the usual cast, and the chopping at the end is what makes it kafteji rather than a plate of fried vegetables.
It is sold from small counters and casse-croûte shops across Tunisia and eaten at any hour, most often stuffed into bread as a sandwich. It is inexpensive, which is part of its identity: kafteji is what you eat when you want something substantial and hot without a restaurant. Fried egg is a common addition, and in many Tunisian versions it is the only protein.
The version here includes ground beef or lamb, which puts it at one end of a range. Kafteji is frequently made entirely without meat, and the vegetable only preparation is at least as common in Tunisia as the meat version. Harissa, olives and a squeeze of lemon are the usual finishing touches, and the dish is eaten from a shared plate with bread as the utensil.