M'smen
I used to be one of those, gluten free, dairy free, low sugar, low carb, liquids only before 12pm type of ladies. For a period of two years I drove practically everyone around me insane with my dietary restrictions.
But when I moved to Morocco...things changed.
Not all at once, but lets just say I've found an ease between enjoying the delicious food the world has to offer and keeping on top of my heath (because sometimes a little gluten makes life a little sweeter).
Morocco is a country built upon bread, there is no meal, without bread, it's literally the staff of life. But, while I tend to still opt-out of the whole bread with every-meal-3-times-a-day way of life, there are a handful of gluten filled Moroccan traditions that I love to enjoy.
All I can say is M'smen.
M'smen are Morocco's version of crepes. They're flakey and buttery and soft. It's a Moroccan CLASSIC.
I like to cover them in butter and honey and jam and eat them piece by piece. The Moroccans usually top them with delcious on one side, and then roll them up like a burrito, a compact, handheld treat...the original hot pocket. You'll see them being made fresh on the street, especially in the mornings and in the afternoons. You can cover them with honey and butter, or eat one filled with spicy olives covered a spicy red powder.
There is an art to the M'smen. You must knead the dough enough so that the crepes are light, flakey and easy to pull apart. They shouldn't be too thick, or too tough and when they're cold they're kind of like plastic. blech. But there are few treats in this world more delicious than a hot, fresh and perfectly made M'smen.
I was shown how to make M'smen once. It was during ramadan at 1am In a farm house in the middle of the atlas mountain. A young 13 year old moroccan girl that was basically the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen showed me how to make them on the dirt floor in a big white dish. She kneaded and pounded the mixture of water, flour, sugar and yeast, in the most modest and primitive kitchen you could imagine. No running water, and a gas bottle for a stove. I was sitting on a wood stool, against the wall watching her every move as she was laughing to me, explaining ingredient in Arabic, with some hand gestures and miming thrown in. After aggressively handling the dough for a while, she covered it with a towel and told me to wait a while. These M'smen weren't exactly the best I'd ever had, and I think it was at that moment that I realized the art of making a good one. It's takes patience and care and a whole lot of muscle.
You'll see sweet moroccan ladies making them on the streets in the mornings. There are two down at the local corner store near my apartment. When I go in the morning to buy one every now and again they'll try to talk to me, figure me out while they finish making their fresh M'smen.
I think however, more so than I love the taste or M'smen, I love waking up to their smell in the morning. They waft through the halls and the doors, summoning everyone to come and get it. And even more, there's nothing quite better in this world than being kissed in the morning, by your handsome moroccan one-true-love, tasting of sweet and buttery M'smen.
The photos here were taken of my good friend Ilham, making Msmen in the morning at zamzam riad in Marrakech. Ilham's msmen (and all her food) is some of the best in Marrakech.