Cooking, Food, and Culture in Morocco

If there's one thing I've learned in Morocco, it's that food isn't just something you eat - it's something you share. It's a conversation, a gesture of welcome, a sign of care.

Meals here don't feel rushed. They stretch out, often over hours, with pauses for more tea, more bread, more laughter. When I first arrived, I thought a dinner invitation at 7:30 meant we would eat around 8:00. Instead, we sat down closer to 9:30 - and didn't leave until after 11. It's not about getting through the meal; it's about being in it.

Food in Morocco tells you a lot about the country itself. It reflects a blend of Berber tradition, Arab influence, Mediterranean freshness, and French touches - history plated with flavor. Every dish feels layered, both in taste and in meaning.

A Table Meant for Many

Something I've really come to appreciate is how many Moroccan dishes are designed to bring people together. Couscous isn't plated individually (most of the time). It's served from one large dish placed in the middle of the table. Bread is shared and used to scoop up what's in front of you.

Families and friends gather around the same plate, eating from the same source. It creates a sense of closeness - physically and socially. There's no "my portion" and "your portion". It's our meal, and we meet in the middle.

Even as a guest, I've been invited right into that circle of sharing - and that invitation alone speaks louder than words.

Learning Through Food

One of my favorite parts of being here has been learning to cook with Morocco, not just observing from the outside. I've taken cooking classes both in Chefchaouen and at Roots Academy in Rabat - including learning to make rifissa, starting with msemen folded and stretched by hand. These experiences feel like someone opening a door and saying, "Here. This is part of who we are. Take a piece with you."

There's something incredibly special about that. Recipes aren't just instructions - they're traditions passed down, shared from one set of hands to another. When someone teaches you how to prepare a dish that has fed generations, they're trusting you to carry forward a story.

Cooking here has taught me more than flavors and techniques. It has taught me about patience, about generosity, and about how food keeps culture alive long after the meal is over.

Connection Over Perfection

Some of my most meaningful conversations so far have happened over mint tea - which seems to accompany everything. I've shared dinner in homes where I didn't speak the same language as most people at the table, yet somehow felt completely understood.

Back home, meals tend to fit neatly between other plans. Here, they are the plans. Eating together isn't something to check off - it's an act of community, of slowing down, of saying, "You're welcome here."

It's made me rethink my own routine - the quick lunches at my desk, the dinners eaten while multitasking. Morocco has reminded me that food can be connection. It can be culture. It can be care.

And that's something I hope to bring home with me, long after the last preserved lemon is gone.

Me, holding the uncooked msemen that I made!