I want to write about my experience at a cooking school in Marrakech, but there are two things that are holding me back. Firstly, the most notable aspect of the class was the fantastic smells and aromas that I was producing from my pots and pans, or rather my expert chef was helping me to produce. I find it incredibly difficult to identify smells, alone describe them. If I am at a wine tasting class, everyone else will be saying, “Yes, I can smell lemons and jasmine, cherries and whatever…..” I sit there, thinking quietly to myself “I can only smell wine.” And how do you describe a smell? How would you describe what a lemon smells like?

 

The second concern holding me back is how to write about this in an interesting way, and not sound like a recipe book? Let me make a terrible confession for someone who wants to be a good travel writer and blogger. I find most travel writing quite tedious to read. Writing about one’s travels is by its very nature a personal experience, and why would anyone else be interested in the way that I react to a particular place?

 

Hopefully you are still reading this piece, so I will dive straight in by saying that I chose to take my course at the Clock Café near the bottom end of the Kasbah. There was no real reason for choosing the Clock Café other than it was near the Riad in which I was staying, and was therefore easy to get to without getting lost. It was a good choice though.

The Clock Café in Fez was opened by an Englishman, specialising in camel burgers among other things. It aims to be a fusion of East and West, not just in cooking, but in culture as well, with live performances, story telling and dancing. A second café was opened in Marrakech and a third is about to be opened in the blue city of Chefchaouen.

I was a little disappointed that I was the only person at the class that day. The other two people who had booked did not turn up. It did mean that I had the sole attention of the chef, Simo. We went through the Clock menu and chose an Aubergine puree starter, lamb tagine and Moroccan macaroons to follow.

 

The first task was to go out and buy some of the ingredients from local shops. Beautiful meat hanging from hooks, small aubergines, spices and herbs. It was when the fresh coriander was put into the basket that I first realised that this was going to be olfactory attack on the senses. I’ve always loved the smell of coriander, but this was up a notch or two from anything I had smelt before, stronger without being overpowering, just more vibrant than what I had smelt before.

Up in the kitchen I was soon put to work, chopping and slicing. The aubergines were placed on a gas grill to cook, charring the skins. The tagine ingredients were assembled and we started to cook them slowly. It is such a shame that cameras can only capture sight, and not smells. I knew from my wine tasting experiences that smelling the wine prepares the brain for the wine that you are about to taste, and so enhances the flavour. Even after 30 minutes or so of cooking, the smell in the kitchen was incredible. I could taste some of the depths of flavour in the juices that were developing, and the tasting and smelling were sending my brain crazy.

 

And then it was done. A silky aubergine zaleek with a lentil soup, lamb tagine, and then some crumbly macaroons. They looked amazing, smelt amazing and tasted amazing!

But would I be able to recreate these dishes at home and without my chef tutor to help me? That’s the subject for another blog post!