as PDF - Emily Kaiser Thelin

paula wolfert rediscovers
marrakech
how does legendary author paula wolfert
coax so many great mediterranean recipes from so
many great cooks? “by hugging, kissing and
measuring spoons,” she proclaims. here, she returns
to marrakech for the first time in two
decades to search out the city’s best new dishes.
by emily kaiser photographs by quentin bacon
154
Wolfert made morning
excursions from her guest
house, the riad Dar Les
Cigognes, opposite, to
explore local cafés serving
light semolina pancakes
with honey (recipe, p. 182).
i
am in the kitchen of le tobsil, one of Marrakech’s most
ambitious restaurants, attempting my best Paula Wolfert imitation. In the early 1970s, Wolfert wrote Couscous and Other
Good Food from Morocco by coaxing recipes from the country’s
finest cooks, and she’s coming back to Marrakech to investigate
a possible second edition. But she’s been delayed, so on my
Facebook wall, she has asked me to get Le Tobsil’s recipe for
trid, braised chicken baked in a paper-thin pastry.
Chef Fatima Mountassamin pulls down a jug filled with a
ground spice I don’t recognize. Once she untwists the lid, the
whole room smells of cumin. Wolfert had told me Morocco
produces some of the world’s best spices, but the potent aroma
is still a shock. “Cumin?” I confirm in French. Mountassamin
nods, then shakes about three tablespoons into her palm. “Three tablespoons
ground cumin,” I write. I feel like a genius. I feel like I’m standing in for God.
But once I see Wolfert in action, I realize I’ve merely taken dictation for her.
Over the last 35 years, Wolfert has written eight seminal cookbooks, seven
still in print. Most of her books explore a region, such as The Cooking of Southwest France, which offers her authentic, three-day recipe for cassoulet; her
most recent work, 2009’s Mediterranean Clay Pot Cooking, focuses on a
method. What sets all these books apart is their unrepentant accuracy. With
minimal apology for complex techniques and obscure ingredients, Wolfert has
challenged Americans to be better cooks. And it’s worked.
Maybe Mario Batali puts it best. The star chef first met Wolfert while
cooking at his first restaurant, New York City’s Pó, in 1994. “Paula is perhaps
the single most influential cook and author among the professional chefs of
my generation,” he wrote me recently. “Her relentless search for authenticity
has led the chefs I love to accept no compromises, and to create real food for
an American market that, up until 25 years ago, wanted none of that. She’s
a lot of fun to have a drink with, too.”
These days Wolfert, 72, lives quietly in Sonoma, California, with her husband, Bill Bayer. She indulges her wanderlust mainly online (she’s a follower
of Moroccan cooking personality Choumicha on YouTube). When she
announced she was going to Morocco for the first time in nearly two decades,
I leaped at the chance to join her as she explored the restaurants, street stalls
and private homes of Marrakech on the hunt for new dishes.
We begin our search at Al Fassia restaurant, where an all-female staff led by
chef Halima Chab prepares classic dishes. Wolfert, a compact woman with an
impeccable bob of chestnut hair, is dressed in a comfortably tailored blazer
and slacks from Chico’s (she so favors their clothes that she likes to say she
could be their spokesmodel). She’s clearly capable of a magnetic tenderness
and an infectious loopiness that make even strangers want to share their personal stories, and their best recipes, with her.
When our menus arrive, she gets serious. “We’ll start with the salads—
they’re supposed to be the best here.” We get an array: sweetened cucumbers
with thyme and orange-flower water, glazed pumpkin, fava puree. Wolfert happily shows me how to use the airy khobz bread to scoop up the vegetables.
Then the waitress sets out a bowl of the chile sauce harissa, and Wolfert
frowns. “That’s Tunisian,” she says, disapproving. “Moroccan food is spiced,
not spicy. Everyone misses that.”
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food & wine • may 2010
al fassia
moroccan salads
In the Guéliz neighborhood of
Marrakech, the restaurant Al Fassia is
famous for its vegetable dishes
prepared by an all-female staff. At left,
Wolfert embraces the hostess after
the two have a rousing discussion over
mint tea, far right, about chef Halima
Chab’s roast lamb. Wolfert, who brings
a maternal warmth to her relentless
questioning, can charm almost anyone
into sharing their food knowledge.
55 Boulevard Zerktouni, Guéliz; 011212-5-24-434-060 or alfassia.com.
djemaa el fna
marrakech street food
Marrakech’s centuries-old central square
in the Medina offers some of the
city’s best food at stalls identified only
by number; stall 30, left, serves
wonderful grilled merguez. The square
can get crowded with henna painters,
acrobats and snake charmers, as well as
vendors who might give tourists a
very hard sell. Wolfert, however, says no
kindly—and effectively—with the
Moroccan phrase La, barak Allaho fik:
“It means, ‘God will grant you every
wish if you leave me alone,’” she says.
ourika valley
moroccan breads
About an hour outside Marrakech, on
a field trip to the Ourika Valley
in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains,
Wolfert watched a private cook with
hennaed hands demonstrate how to
make the pastry for her rustic trid,
a braised chicken dish. Anyone can
take baking lessons at the nearby
Jardin Bio-Aromatique d’Ourika, an
organic herb farm and producer
of argan nut oil, a Moroccan specialty.
B.P 142 Tnine Ourika Haouz;
nectarome.com.
dar yacout
pot-roasted eggplant
with tomatoes & cumin
Wolfert visited the kitchens of
Dar Yacout, left, where the cooks
still use charcoal fires to
make dishes like lush and smoky
roasted-eggplant salad.
79 Derb Sidi Ahmed Soussi;
011-212-5-24-382-929.
Pot-Roasted Eggplant
with Tomatoes and Cumin
active: 25 min; total: 1 hr 20 min
4 servings
1 large eggplant (1¥ pounds)
4 garlic cloves, minced
Kosher salt
1 cup drained, canned
diced tomatoes
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons chopped parsley
1 tablespoon cilantro leaves
2 teaspoons sweet smoked paprika
‚ teaspoon ground cumin
continued on p. 184
158
food & wine • may 2010
Pinch of cayenne pepper
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
Freshly ground black pepper
1. Heat a large enameled cast-iron casserole. Using a fork, prick the eggplant in a few
places. Add the eggplant to the casserole,
cover and cook over moderately low heat,
turning once, until charred on the outside
and soft within, about 40 minutes.
2.Transfer the eggplant to a colander set in
the sink. Using a sharp knife, make a lengthwise slit in the eggplant; let drain for 10
minutes. Scrape the flesh into a bowl, discarding the skin and any hard seeds; mash
to a puree and transfer to a large skillet.
3.Using the side of a large knife, mash the
garlic to a coarse paste with 1 teaspoon
of salt. Add the paste to the skillet along
with the tomatoes, olive oil, parsley, cilantro, paprika, cumin and cayenne. Cook over
moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until
all the liquid has evaporated, about 10
min­utes. Stir in the lemon juice and season
with salt and pepper. Serve warm or at
room temperature.
foodandwine.com
food stylist: simon andrews; prop stylist: theo vamvounakis
When Wolfert first came to Morocco in 1959 with her then-husband,
a journalist, she’d already studied cooking with Dione Lucas and worked
for James Beard but had never lived outside her native New York. The
couple spurned Marrakech and its emerging hippie scene in favor of
Tangier, where they befriended other expats like William S. Burroughs
and Paul and Jane Bowles. “I didn’t go to Morocco for the food,” Wolfert
says. “I came for the literary life. I was misinformed.” Today, she says, “I
would choose Marrakech over Tangier hands down. If I do this book, I
may have to come back for another week.”
Marrakech is booming today, particularly its restaurants and hotels.
In the Medina, or medieval quarter, the famous Hotel La Mamounia
just reopened after a long renovation. And in the “new” parts of town,
the Guéliz and the Palmeraie, the Four Seasons and the Mandarin Oriental are building their first Marrakech outposts.
At Al Fassia, our couscous arrives, silky grains steamed over vegetable
stew. “Very good,” Wolfert says, but sits back deflated. “My version’s better.”
Wolfert became a cookbook author through an unexpected route. By the
late 1960s, she’d returned to New York with her two young children. She
found work at Columbia Records assembling “party boxes,” recipes and
foods to accompany LPs from the same country. True to Wolfert form, those
were some richly researched boxes. For the Mexican box, she consulted
cook­book author Diana Kennedy. For the Moroccan box, she called the
Moroccan Consulate General’s office in New York. The Consulate General’s
mother turned out to have been kitchen manager to King Mohammed V.
During a seven-course meal at
Dar Yacout, opposite, Wolfert asked
the owner dozens of questions
about dishes like this paprika-spiked,
pot-roasted eggplant.
karima’s kitchen
lamb-noodle stew
Wolfert learned a dish called chaariya
medfouna from a private cook
named Karima, bottom left. “Chaariya
means noodles,” Wolfert says.
“Medfoun means a surprise or
something hidden.” Here,
steamed noodles cover tender
chunks of lamb spiced with cumin.
Moroccan Lamb Stew
with Noodles
active: 1 hr; total: 3 hr
8 to 1 0 s e rv i n gs
lamb
Large pinch of saffron threads
5 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 pounds boneless lamb shoulder,
cut into 2-inch pieces
3 large red onions, sliced » inch thick
Two 2-inch cinnamon sticks
1 tablespoon ground ginger
1» teaspoons freshly ground black pepper
1» teaspoons ground turmeric
Kosher salt
12 cilantro sprigs, tied in a bundle
noodles
1» pounds vermicelli or angel-hair pasta,
broken into 3-inch lengths
2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil,
plus more for greasing
» cup golden raisins
‹ cup blanched whole almonds
» cup cold salted water
3 tablespoons unsalted butter,
at room temperature
Salt
¬ cup confectioners’ sugar
1» teaspoons ground cinnamon
1. prepare the lamb: In a small skillet, toast
the saffron over moderately high heat until
fragrant, about 10 seconds. Transfer to a small
bowl and let cool. Crumble the saffron threads
and cover with 2 tablespoons of water.
2.In a large enameled cast-iron casserole, melt
3 tablespoons of the butter. Add the lamb, onions,
cinnamon sticks, ginger, pepper, turmeric and
2 teaspoons of salt. Cook over moderate heat,
stirring a few times, until fragrant, 5 minutes. >
160
foodandwine.com
“Morocco is a noodle
nation!” Wolfert declares.
Moroccans eat this
fragrant lamb-and-noodle
stew with their fingers.
Serving bowl from
The End of History.
le tobsil
poached pears
Wolfert adapted this lightly
spiced, unusual fruit dessert
from one created by chef
Fatima Mountassamin of Le Tobsil,
Marrakech’s most ambitious
Moroccan restaurant. 22 Derb
Abdellah ben Hessaien, R’mila
Bab Ksour; 011-212-5-24-441-523.
Poached Pears with Prunes
active: 25 min; total: 45 min
6 servings
2 quarts water
1 cup sugar
» navel orange, with skin,
sliced » inch thick
One 3-inch cinnamon stick
1 bay leaf
1 whole clove
6 large Bartlett pears,
with stems, peeled
12 pitted prunes
Butter cookies, for serving
3.Add the cilantro, the saffron water and
2 cups of fresh water to the casserole and
bring to a simmer. Cover with a round of
parchment paper and a lid; simmer, turning the lamb once, until tender, 1 hour.
4.Transfer the lamb and all but » cup
of the cooking liquid to a bowl. Discard
the cilantro and cinnamon sticks. Add the
remaining 2 tablespoons of butter to the
casserole; cook over moderate heat, stirring a few times, until the liquid has evaporated, about 15 minutes. Return the lamb
and cooking liquid to the casserole and
season with salt. Cover and let stand.
5. prepare the noodles: Preheat the
oven to 350°. In a bowl, toss the noodles with
the 2 teaspoons of oil. Oil a large steamer
insert and set it in a pot. Add enough water
to the pot to reach just below the insert;
bring to a boil. Add the noodles, cover and
steam over moderate heat for 20 minutes,
adding more water as necessary.
6.Meanwhile, in a small bowl, cover the
raisins with hot water and let soak until
softened, 10 minutes; drain. Spread the
162
food & wine • may 2010
almonds on a baking sheet and toast in
the oven for 8 minutes, until golden brown.
Let cool completely, then finely chop.
7. Transfer the noodles to the bowl and toss
with the raisins and salted water; return
to the steamer insert, cover and steam for
20 minutes longer. Pour the noodles into
the water in the pot and boil, stirring, until
al dente, 2 minutes. Drain. Return the
noodles and raisins to the bowl, add the
butter and toss to coat. Season with salt.
8.Reheat the lamb. Spread half of the noodles in a large serving bowl and cover with
the lamb stew. Mound the remaining noodles
on top, making a well in the center. Fill the
well with 3 tablespoons of the confectioners’
sugar. In a bowl, combine the remaining
confectioners’ sugar with the almonds and
ground cinnamon. Sprinkle the almond
mixture over the noodles and serve.
wine A Rhône Valley red with ample tannins
will help counter this stew’s richness. Try
the spicy 2007 Jean-Luc Colombo Les
Abeilles Côtes du Rhône Rouge or the robust
2008 Château de Saint Cosme Gigondas.
1. In a large pot, bring the water to a boil
with the sugar, orange slices, cinnamon
stick, bay leaf and clove; stir to dissolve
the sugar. Add the pears and prunes and
cook over moderate heat, turning the
pears often, until the pears are tender,
about 25 minutes.
2. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the pears
and prunes to a shallow serving bowl. Boil
the poaching liquid over high heat until
reduced to 1» cups, about 10 minutes.
Strain the syrup over the pears. Serve
warm or at room temperature, with the
butter cookies alongside.
make ahead The poached pears and
prunes can be refrigerated in the strained
syrup, covered in an airtight container, for
up to 3 days. Bring to room temperature
before serving.
wine Sweet Moscato d’Asti from Piedmont,
Italy, pairs nicely with these fragrant pears.
Look for the bright, fruity 2009 Ceretto I
Vignaioli di Santo Stefano or the ripe, plush
2008 Beni di Batasiolo Bosc dla Rei.
recipes continued on p. 182
foodandwine.com
There are several great ways
to end a meal in Marrakech,
from a glass of mint tea,
opposite, to a dessert of
poached pears with prunes.
Platter from Takashimaya.
marrakech recipes
from p. 162
Semolina Pancakes
total: 30 min plus 1 hr rising
m a k e s 1 2 pa n c a k e s
Every morning, cafés in Marrakech serve
these crêpes, called begrhir, drizzled with
honey or spread with apricot jam. Cooking
the crêpes on only one side leaves a lacy
network of tiny holes, perfect for catching
the sweet toppings; the fine semolina provides a lovely sandy texture. Wolfert adapted
this recipe from one in the book La Pâtisserie
Marocaine by Rachida Amhaouche.
3 cups warm water
2 teaspoons baking powder
1‚ cups fine semolina (see Note)
¬ cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons active dry yeast
New Orleans r/o
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
Vegetable oil, for cooking
¬ cup honey, warmed
6 tablespoons unsalted butter,
melted
1. In a bowl, combine ¥ cup of the warm
water with the baking powder. In a food
processor, combine the semolina with the
flour, yeast, sugar and the remaining
2‚ cups of warm water; process for 30
seconds, until smooth. Add the salt and
baking powder mixture and process for
30 seconds longer. Pour the batter into a
large bowl, cover with a kitchen towel and
let rise at room temperature until doubled
in bulk, about 1 hour.
2.Heat a 10-inch nonstick skillet and
coat it with a thin layer of vegetable oil. In
a small bowl, blend the honey with the
melted butter. Whisk the batter until
creamy. Ladle ¬ cup of the batter into the
skillet, tilting the skillet to distribute it
evenly. Cook the pancake over moderate
heat until bubbles appear all over the surface and the bottom is pale golden, about
2 minutes. Shake the skillet to loosen the
pancake, then slide the pancake onto a
plate. Drizzle with the honey butter and
serve right away. Repeat with more oil and
the remaining batter and honey butter.
note Fine semolina flour, sometimes
also called extra-fancy durum flour, is
available at Whole Foods and online at king­
arthurflour.com.
•
182
food & wine • may 2010
marrakech
SATURDAY
MAY 15, 2010
SONOMA-CUTRER
VINEYARDS
CA WINE COUNTRY
Overlooking the picturesque
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Sonoma-Cutrer Vineyards, this
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includes an elegant afternoon
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exquisite wines and a
world-class auction, all to
benefit children with
life-threatening illnesses.
To support your local chapter,
go to www.wish.org
www.SFwish.org/events
[email protected]
(415) 982-9474
from p. 158
Columbia Records shut down the
program before Wolfert could finish
the Moroccan box. But encouraged by
Bayer and her new friend Kennedy,
Wolfert decided to write a Moroccan
cookbook. The Consulate General flew
her to Rabat, where she spent six
weeks with his mother, Khadija Jaidi.
What recipes Jaidi didn’t know, she
sent Wolfert, with a car and a translator, around the country to find.
Wolfert would live in Tangier with
Bayer and her children for the next five
years. But she finished her research in
two months. “I thought that’s how you
wrote cookbooks,” she laughs.
As if on cue, our roast lamb dish
arrives at Al Fassia. “Wow, do you taste
that?” she says. “The ginger really
sings. The sauce kind of moves across
your mouth like a piece of velvet, that’s
incredible. The lamb is so soft!”
When Wolfert can’t observe a cook
directly (Method A), she interrogates
anyone who might know anything
(Method B). She asks our waitress
about the lamb. What cut is it? How
many kilos? How old was the animal? How high was the flame when
it was seared? One would think the
barrage might drive the waitress
away, but Wolfert addresses her like
a mother. Wolfert gets her name
(Fatiha), her hometown (Fez) and
her background (her parents own a
small hotel). Fatiha invites Wolfert
to the bar for mint tea and starts
singing, and Wolfert begins to ululate. Fatiha wipes away tears of
laughter and brings Wolfert back to
the table, breathless.
“I wrote my entire cookbook that
way,” Wolfert says. “All by hugging,
kissing and measuring spoons!”
It’s a wonderful approach, certainly
unlike mine when I interviewed the
chef at Le Tobsil. When I later give
Wolfert the trid recipe, she asks me,
“I wonder if the chef used beldi
cumin. It means ‘from the countryside’; the best beldi cumin comes
from the Ouarzazate, over the Atlas
184
Mountains, where they filmed Lawrence of Arabia.” My own interactions
with the chef were so formal and shy
that the subject never came up.
That afternoon, we explore the
souks, the maze of shops in the Medina. As Wolfert has shown, kindness
helps get us around. The Medina can
be overwhelming: Vendors don’t take
no for an answer. I try to escape as one
seller approaches. But Wolfert tucks
her arm in mine and slows down. “La,
barak Allaho fik!” she sings out. The
man breaks into a grin and bows.
“It works!” Wolfert says. “La, barak
Allaho fik means ‘God will grant you
every wish if you leave me alone.’ It’s
only used in Morocco. They can’t
believe a Westerner knows it.”
We wander the food stalls in the
djemaa el fna, the Medina’s central
square. A group of locals is clustered
around stall 11, buying grilled goat and
lamb. Wolfert asks the lead grill cook
how he makes mechoui, or whole roast
goat. I recall a passage from her book
and blurt out, “Beaucoup de poivre,
oui?” (“A lot of pepper, yes?”) Wolfert
quickly corrects me in French, so he
can also understand: “Non, cumin.”
“Vous savez notre cuisine!” he says,
gratefully (“You know our food”).
I’m starting to wonder if there’s anyone Wolfert can’t charm, but at our
next stop, it’s clear she’s actually pretty
choosy: She really only warms to the
good cooks. Our guide brings us to the
Mellah, the old Jewish quarter, to a
wholesaler’s shop ordinarily off-limits
to tourists. Enormous burlap sacks of
dried herbs rustle as we brush against
them, giving off their scents: bright
lemon verbena, crisp mint and flinty
chiba, or wormwood, used in herbal
teas. The wizened proprietor beckons
an assistant to bring a bag of saffron.
To my amazement, Wolfert proceeds to upbraid the owner in Arabic. “I told him what he needed to
hear!” she explains. “That he is an
old man who should know better
than to store saffron in a plastic bag.
food & wine • may 2010
It should be in a metal tin, out of the
light. That saffron has no flavor.”
I’m ready to be thrown out, but the
man starts laughing. He not only
thanks our guide for bringing Wolfert
in, he offers her beldi cumin for free.
Wolfert is happier at Marjane. The
supermarket chain looks like a sterile
grocery store but sells many of Morocco’s best ingredients. In the flour aisles,
open bags allow customers to judge
grain sizes. Wolfert rubs a fine semolina flour and realizes it’s identical to
one the American company King
Arthur Flour now offers. Marrakech
cooks use it to make pancakes called
beghrirs, served with honey or jam at
cafés (recipe, p. 182). “I learned that
recipe from Madame Jaidi,” Paula says,
“But I never published it, because you
could never get the flour in the States.
I could include it in my new book.”
We turn into the pasta aisle. “See,
Morocco is a noodle nation! No one
knows that,” Wolfert says. “Chaariya
medfouna, I wrote only a paragraph
about it in my book, but it’s the next
hot dish. The noodles are steamed, you
won’t believe the texture. It’s much
more interesting than couscous.”
It turns out an American family
Wolfert knows has a Moroccan cook
whose speciality is chaariya; we
arrange a lesson. The following morning, we settle into what looks like a
Western kitchen but for the cook,
Karima, dressed in a bright blue tunic.
I’m skeptical, but Karima takes a big
pinch of saffron out of a metal tin.
Before toasting the threads in a dry
skillet, she gently presses them with a
wooden spoon to draw out more flavor. Wolfert pulls out a notebook.
“I have a feeling this is going to be
excellent,” she whispers.
Karima reaches for some tomatoes,
and Wolfert digs into her purse for a
serrated tomato peeler, then shows
Karima how it works. Evidently, Recipe Acquisition Method A always
starts with a gift. (“I bring these by the
dozen,” Wolfert tells me later. “Cooks
foodandwine.com
see their value immediately.”) Karima
waits to see if Wolfert has more to
demonstrate, but Wolfert smiles and
says, in Arabic, “I shall watch you!”
In the glow of Wolfert’s attentions,
Karima takes extra care with her preparations. Over the next hour, she
silently sets the lamb stew to simmer
with onions, cinnamon, ginger and
saffron, and steams the slender noodles. Wolfert serves as kitchen assistant, whispering praise. “She reminds
me of Madame Jaidi,” Wolfert says,
tearing up at the memory of her first
tutor. She asks where Karima finds her
almonds; they’re apparently a Moroccan kind that’s hard to get in the States.
“That never stops me,” Wolfert laughs.
“I once planted a fig tree so I could try
a recipe that called for its sap.”
In the dining room, we wash our
hands in lemon water before dipping
our fingers into the dish. Medfouna
means “hidden”: The lamb, soft and
luscious, is tucked under the noodles,
and we swirl them in the fragrant
sauce (recipe, p. 160). “Now that
smells like Morocco,” Wolfert says.
That night we have reservations
at Dar Yacout, owned by Mohamed
Zkhiri, one of Wolfert’s oldest Moroccan friends. Zkhiri is a bon vivant who
tells larger-than-life stories about
nearly crashing in the airplane of a
member of the royal family on a return
trip from the horse races. He’s owned
his restaurant for 22 years but recently
began an overhaul of its kitchens.
Later, during our seven-course meal,
Wolfert will ask dozens of questions
about his dishes, like the salad of
roasted eggplant spiked with cumin
and paprika (recipe, p. 158).
But for now, it’s still cocktail hour.
We climb a spiral staircase to the roof
to watch the sunset. The street cacophony is reduced to a hum, and we can
smell charcoal fires from the stalls in
the Djemaa. “Rooftops really make
you love Marrakech,” Wolfert says. “I
want to do this book. But I may have to
come back here for at least a year.”
•
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