Cardamom Coffee Cake Heaven

Well, boys and girls, the cake turned out just fine. Not that I had any of it, since I fasted today to try to make up for all the spiritual junk I carry around with me, but according to reliable reports, the cake was very, very good. So...I've decided to post the recipe, as promised.

One note before I get started: Mollie Katzen's cake recipes tend to be very "heavy". By that I mean that you will be using a fair amount of wrist power to mix. You can use an electric mixer to cream the butter and the sugar, but after that, you're better off using a large wooden spoon.

Also, the batter tends to be too much for the pan size indicated. So do what I do: bake two cakes, one in a bundt pan, and one in a loaf pan, and freeze one for later. (Yes, in case you didn't know, cakes can be frozen--provided they're not iced. Isn't that wunderbar?)

So...here we go.

You'll want to oil or butter your pan--Katzen calls for a 10-inch pan. I use silicone, so I don't have to grease it (silicone may not be good for breast implants, but it works wonderfully as a cooking medium). Preheat your oven to 350 F.

In a large mixing bowl, cream 1 pound of butter with 2 cups of packed brown sugar. (The recipe says to use light, but I used dark and it was fine.) Add 4 eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. If using liquid vanilla extract (I use powder, so I put it in with my dry ingredients), add 2 tsp. of it now.

In another bowl, sift together 4 cups of flour (and your dry vanilla, if using), 2 tsp of baking powder, 2 1/2 tsp baking soda, 1/2 tsp salt, and 1 Tb of powdered cardamom. (Cardamom is a wondrous spice that with one whiff will transport you to an exotic bazaar in some far-off land. It's awesome. I promise. You can find it at most Middle Eastern groceries, and online at kalustyans.com).

Add this dry mixture, 1/3 at a time, to the butter mixture. Alternate this with two cups of yogurt, sour cream, or buttermilk. (I'm a yogurt kind of girl, so that's my tart dairy product of choice, but pick your own preference).

DO NOT OVERBEAT (not that you'll be tempted to, as at this point your wrists are likely to be sore). Just stir enough so that everything is nice and blended.

Once the batter is ready, make a nut mixture of 1/4 cup packed brown sugar, 1 Tb cinnamon, and 1/2 cup of chopped walnuts. Stir this together with a fork and set aside.

Spread 1/3 of the batter in your pan. Sprinkle 1/2 of the nut mixture over it. Cover with another 1/3 of the batter. Sprinkle the remaining nut mixture. Cover this with (you guessed it) the final 1/3 of the batter. Bake for about 1 1/4 hours, or until a knife inserted into the cake comes out clean. (Keep an eye on the cake, as ovens vary).

While the cake is baking, feel free to read some girly magazines and watch the Food Channel...

Once done, the cake should rest IN THE PAN for 20 minutes or so. Then, you can turn it out, but you should still wait about 30 more minutes before eating. (If you take the cake out of the pan before the specified time, it will fall apart.)

Now you can eat your cake as you ponder the finer things in life, like why people think supermarket bakeries are any good. Why settle for that garbage when you can make something better at home?

Enjoy!

The Phoenix Has Risen from the Ashes (and Speaking of Ashes, What Happened to My Cake?)

Hello! I'm back. Yes, I've been blessed with a new jolt of creativity, and for now, the blog is up and running once more. However, I have decided to venture beyond the boundaries of Moroccan cuisine, and take on the whole wide world of cooking (at least the food that I like.)

I am currently in love with Mollie Katzen's "Moosewood Cookbook", a wonderful tome featuring vegetarian recipes. I have one of the more recent versions. Tonight I decided that I would attempt to make her Cardamom Coffee Cake for my students tomorrow. (They're the only ones who appreciate my cooking anyhow.)

Much to my annoyance, however, the cake overflowed from the pan while baking, resulting in an unpleasant burned aroma throughout the kitchen, and causing me to panic with thoughts of what the final product might turn out to be like. (Hey, my reputation as a good cook is on the line here; wouldn't you be concerned?!?)

As I type this, the cake is reposing in splendor (or not) in the now cool oven. Do I dare to take a peek?

Tune in for an update on the horrified reactions of my students as they taste the first blackened bite...if it turns out O.K., recipe will be forthcoming...

By the way, if you have any recipe requests, please let me know!

Siffa, Siffa, Where Art Thou?

First of all, I apologize for my long absence (not that anyone has likely noticed, as I don't seem to get too many hits). I started a new job at the beginning of January, and though part-time, it's kept me busy.

But enough apologies. I turn now to the topic at hand: the ever-amazing, always delicious (especially when enjoyed with a glass of ice-cold milk) siffa.

What is siffa? Basically, it's a sweet couscous dish. I've had it made with rice, with sharia (vermicelli), and, of course, with siffa itself--a type of super-fine couscous that is smaller than the grain used with savory dishes. The last time I checked, it was unavailable in the U.S., so I generally just use regular couscous.

To make it, steam your couscous as usual (I steam mine three times, with oil and butter). Once that is finished, mix it with raisins which you have either steamed along with the couscous, or at least soaked in hot water. You want plump, juicy raisins, not dessicated minuscule ones.

You will then pile the seffa mixed with raisins more or less in a conical fashion, perhaps slightly steeper than a regular couscous presentation, but roughly the same.

Now for the garnishes (my favorite part). The way the dish is garnished varies from family to family, but the way I like it is with lots and lots of yummy fried, crushed almonds. (Boil the almonds, peel them, then fry them in vegetable oil. Drain and then pulverize in your blender or food processor--or, if you have lots of time and like to do such things, in a mortar). I sprinkle the almonds all around the circumference of the dish, with more in a side dish for people to add according to their preference.

Then, I make a slight indentation at the top of the cone, and fill this with powdered sugar, which I allow to spill artfully down the sides of the pile. Again, I offer dishes of powdered sugar on the side for people to add if they so desire.

Finally, a slight dusting of cinnamon is applied (and yes, I keep a dish of this on the table, too); I generally sift four thin lines over the cone, starting at the base, working my way up, and then down to the other side.

Side dishes are not normally served with siffa. It's usually served on its own, and it's best when slightly warm.

As mentioned previously, I adore it with a glass of ice-cold milk (much as I would a piece of chocolate cake--the idea of guzzling Coca-Cola with this dish seems sacrilegious).

It's ever so good and not a dish that's often seen in so-called Moroccan cookbooks. Give it a try--kids love it, too.

(By the way, the picture that I found of siffa is FAR too skimpy on the garni--live it up, life is short--FRIED, CRUSHED ALMONDS RULE!)

Breakfast, Moroccan Style

Breakfast in Morocco depends much on whom you are staying with. I hesitate to use the word "traditional", because tradition varies from family to family and region to region. Unless you are staying in a soulless chain hotel that caters to tourists, chances are your breakfast there, no matter what it consists of, will be delicious.

There is, however, one constant that links all types of breakfast together. This is...bread. (Surprise, surprise). Some people (more and more people nowadays) buy their bread from any one of the numerous patisseries/boulangeries that dot most neighborhoods. Others make their own bread at home. Either way, here is a list of the different types of breads you might encounter at the breakfast table (and each deserves its own blog, eventually):

--Baguette or other store-bought bread

--Croissant or pain au chocolat: The ones I've had in Casa rival any in Paris; in fact, it's pretty damn near impossible to have bad bread or pastry, in Casablanca, at least.

--Khobz dar or pain maison: Homemade bread, either made from white flour (modern, diabetes-inducing practice) or whole wheat (traditional, much better for you). Sesame seeds or anise may be added to the dough or sprinkled on top.

--Msimmen/melaoui: Whether round or square, these little packets of goodness will make you swoon, especially when drizzled with honey. Can be made either from white flour or from a mix of smida (semolina) and white flour. Oil, lots of it, is key to its successful preparation. Some people put small pieces of khli (a type of beef jerky) in this before they cook it. NOTE: some people call these rghaif, although in my experience rghaif is made with yeast (msimmen is not) and is usually thicker.


--Harcha: Little round breads made of smida. They can be very small, regular sized, or immense. The latter is what you will often see for sale from street vendors: a griddle-size cake is made, and then your piece is cut off. At home, most people make the smaller version. Lovely with honey and butter, with a nice, grainy texture.


--Batbout: small breads similar to pita; can be made with white flour or a mix of semolina and white flour; many people make tiny ones and stuff them with various savory fillings for a light dinner or appetizer.

--Baghrir: yeasty pancakes that are cooked on one side only. Again, when subjected to the divine honey/butter treatment, these become extraordinary.

--Sfinj: a rather oily donut that is nonetheless delicious, especially when eaten with some Kiri. Most people do not make these at home, but send someone out to buy them fresh.

Other things you might find on the table: Kiri or Laughing Cow cheese; butter, honey, and jam; sometimes olives or dates; argan oil (a type of oil extracted from the fruit of a tree of the same name); olive oil; amlou (a Berber dish made from argan oil and crushed almonds; it has a soupy consistency and tastes rather like peanut butter).

A typical city breakfast will likely consist of bread with honey, butter, and jam and mint tea and/or coffee with milk at the bare minimum. Some people even add cornflakes or other breakfast cereals. This is definitely not traditional by any standards. Still, it's becoming popular with kids (but at 30-65 dirhams a box, not too many people can afford this luxury item).

Many people, especially in the country, enjoy heavier breakfasts as they need the energy for their busy day. This sort of breakfast may consist of a soup such as harira or hsoua, a grain and milk-based soup (this WILL get its own blog because most non-Moroccans have never heard of it). Alternately, people may dine on khli with eggs, or even a meaty tagine! (No joke: Moroccans like their meat. A good friend of Berber origin remembers eating at least two tagines for breakfast and "snack"--all before noon!)

Occasionally, cookies and cakes may decorate the breakfast table, but I've found that this is the exception rather than the norm. Again, it all depends on the family.

In addition to the tea and coffee mentioned above, juices both fresh and packaged are likely to be present. A quick note on packaged juices: it is extremely difficult to find juice that does not have sugar added to it in Morocco. A couple of Spanish brands (I think one is called Juver) offer more or less natural juice, but if sugar is a problem, READ CAREFULLY. (And people wonder why diabetes is a growing problem in the bled...)

Cold milk, fresh fruit, and omelets are not things that you will readily find for breakfast, unless you are staying in a hotel or in a house where the people know of your preferences.

A few restaurants/cafes in Casablanca have amazing breakfast menus. Yes, they are overpriced, but if you can afford to splurge, do it. You can find these menus at Venezia ice-cream parlors (on the Corniche and by the Twin Towers) and also at my beloved yet sleazy Brioche Doree, but if you REALLY want the royal treatment, go to La Sqala. It's on the coastal road right in front of the port. It's an old fortress, hence its name, so it's pretty hard to miss.

Besides having a very nice menu, this restaurant offers a rare corner of solace in hectic Casablanca. Once you enter the fort, you'll find yourself in a tranquil garden with fountains and flowers. You will forget you're in Casa (and if you've been there for a while, this can be a good thing, no offense intended).

All this talk of breakfast has made me ravenous. Recipes for some of the above breads/dishes forthcoming.

Choumicha--Keeping It Real

If you've spent any time in Morocco, you are likely familiar with the smiling face of Choumicha. She has her own T.V. show and a magazine, both of which highlight la cuisine marocaine.

I have to say, while much of the country is enamored of her, I find her show (not necessarily her) annoying at times; perhaps it has to do with the fact that her clothes always remain spotless, even after tending a bubbling tagine.

However, petty grievances aside, she deserves our heartfelt gratitude for the simple fact that she takes her show on the road, seeking out masters and mistresses of rapidly vanishing regional culinary secrets.

For a couple of years now, I've been making the argument that the new generation of young Moroccan women, particularly from the upper classes, has forgotten (or never learned) how to cook. The reasons for this are varied; many wealthy families have women who are hired to do the cooking, and the daughters of the house never set foot in the kitchen. Another reason is that more and more women are working outside the home, and so can't stay at home with their kids to teach them how to cook. Also, take-out food is becoming cheaper and more accessible, and with hectic schedules, it's much easier to buy a pizza (when in Bourgogne, I recommend Pizza Lhabib)than to spend hours preparing a traditional meal.

If my arguments don't convince you, then maybe this will: out of all the Moroccan women I know, only two, including me (and I'm not even Moroccan) know or bother to make chebbakia, a traditional fried cookie, for Ramadan. The rest buy them (trust me, homemade are a thousand times better than store bought).

To make matters worse, the old dadas (family cooks, usually in Fassi families) are dying off, and they take their secrets to the grave.


What's to become of Moroccan cooking? Not the what-the-hell-am-I-eating fare, like the little canapes with "cacher" (suspiciously pink lunch meat whose name comes from the word for "kosher"), or quiche with canned corn and tuna, but the down home recipes that are a few hundred years old. Will Koutoubia meats conquer all, or is there still hope?

Enter Choumicha, always dressed for success, clad in a djellaba when visiting a mountain village, wearing a chic pantsuit while under the tutelage of a chef in a well-known Casablanca restaurant. While her regular T.V. show is one that I find less than stellar, her regional show is, simply put, marvellous. And it bears mentioning here that being a T.V. personality in Morocco does not come with all the perks that it does in the U.S. Sure, Choumicha is well-known, adored by most, and probably financially secure. But she does all of her traveling by bus, along with her crew, which in Morocco means grueling, day-long rides in cramped quarters over often bumpy roads. That's dedication.

If you read French and happen to visit Morocco, try to pick up a copy of Choumicha's magazine, Cuisine du Maroc. The recipes can be hit or miss, but the pictures, at least, are enough to make you salivate.


Shukran Choumicha! Tbark Allah alaik!

Mrhababikoum! Welcome!

Ahlan and welcome to my attempt to share my love and (limited) knowledge of Moroccan food with the world (or at least cyberspace).

Before you ask, no, I’m not Moroccan. I’m an American of Italian descent and I’ve just returned to the U.S. after two years in Casablanca. (My husband IS Moroccan).

I love Morocco with all my heart: the people, the traditions, the language(s), the food…

Let’s see a show of hands: how many of you think “Moroccan food” includes hummus and falafel? How many of you have been told that it’s polite to burp at the table in Moroccan homes? How many of you think that those Lebanese-owned restaurants here in the U.S. offering “typical” Moroccan 12-course meals are the real deal?

NO NO NO! WRONG WRONG WRONG! (Sorry, do I seem upset?)

Moroccan food, while at times borrowing from Middle Eastern culinary tradition, really doesn’t have too much in common with, say, the cuisines of Egypt or Lebanon. In my humble opinion, Morocco and Iran have more in common, food-wise, than Morocco and other “Arab” nations. Both Moroccan and Iranian cooks like to mix savory and sweet flavors. I don’t know of too many other countries (in fact, I can’t really think of any) where meat and fruit appear in the same dish. (Trust me, it’s delicious).

Which brings up the issue of Morocco’s “Arab” identity. You see, Morocco isn’t really an “Arab” country, at least, not 100%. The reality is far more complex, which makes for great fun in the kitchen. Berbers (or Amizighen) were the first inhabitants of this country, and they have, to this day, their own way of preparing food. Due to the French “protectorate” and centuries of Spanish presence in the north and other areas, European influences crept in as well–croissants are a staple, even in more remote areas. Even nations further afield left their mark: shrimp briwats (their similarity to springrolls is no coincidence) were likely brought over to Morocco as soldiers fighting in what was then known as Indo-China came back home.

I’m not claiming to be an expert on Moroccan food. I hesitate to even use the term “Moroccan food”, because the cuisine certainly cannot be pigeonholed into one neat category. The regional varieties of preparation are countless. I am claiming, nay, declaring, to love Moroccan food, and this is my humble attempt to introduce others who may be interested in learning more about it to its wonderful diversity and exoticism.

Bismillah! It’s time to eat!