Acima Majorelle had failed me. After thirty minutes of running around the
Moroccan version of a grocery store (which isn't very different from an American
grocery store, except it's in a basement and everything has bilingual labels in
French and Arabic), I had come home with a only few vegetables and hope that
I'd be able to share a
.little bit of my heritage with my host family. I was wrong.
.little bit of my heritage with my host family. I was wrong.
The project had begun almost as soon
as my roommate Evan and I arrived in our new home. After our
brother had taught us how to make tajine, we wanted to return the favor. Evan grew up in California and my family is originally from Mexico, so it only made sense that we would cook Mexican food. Only...Moroccans aren't crazy about spicy food. That was a problem. After some brainstorming, Evan and I finally settled on guacamole. Safe, simple guacamole.
So we thought.
brother had taught us how to make tajine, we wanted to return the favor. Evan grew up in California and my family is originally from Mexico, so it only made sense that we would cook Mexican food. Only...Moroccans aren't crazy about spicy food. That was a problem. After some brainstorming, Evan and I finally settled on guacamole. Safe, simple guacamole.
So we thought.
The following week, after our trip to the grocery store (where I had been forced to
settle for Doritos tortilla chips instead of fresh ones) Evan and I stood in
the kitchen about to prepare our dish. Except the avocados were as hard as
rocks. Apparently, they aren't native to
Marrakech. After four days, our brother and sister were too excited to
wait any longer. They insisted on helping Evan and I beat the avocados
into submission. After ten minutes and multiple cooking instruments (including some sort of grinding device), we finally
made progress in our recipe. My brother
watched as I cut the tomatoes, onion, and cilantro, insisting on helping in order
to speed up the process. When the guacamole
was finished (minus any sort of pepper), I watched nervously as my family took their first bites. They loved it. My brother and sister even put it in the middle
of the dinner table, next to the real meal.
Moroccans are very open to new ideas. In this example, my family REALLY loved trying food from a new culture. But this openness translates into many other areas, from dress to religion. I feel very welcome here.
Moroccans are very open to new ideas. In this example, my family REALLY loved trying food from a new culture. But this openness translates into many other areas, from dress to religion. I feel very welcome here.
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