Passport & Plate - Saharan chickpea stew
Morocco | Wednesday, March 4, 2015 | 4 photos
Ingredients
1 tbsp cumin seeds
1 tbsp coriander seeds
1 tbsp sweet paprika
2 tsp cardamom seeds
1 tsp black peppercorns
½ tsp grated nutmeg
1 tbsp olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed
400g tin chopped tomatoes
200ml vegetable or chicken stock
400g tin chickpeas, drained
200g dried green lentils
Juice and finely grated zest of ½ lemon
A handful of picked coriander
How to prepare this recipe1 Using a pestle and mortar, bash all of the spice ingredients together until combined.
2 Heat the oil in a large saucepan over a medium heat, add the onion and saute, stirring, for 5 minutes or until soften but not coloured. Add the garlic and spice mix and cook for another minute.
3 Tip in the tomatoes, chickpeas and lentils, then pour over the stock. Pop the lid on and bring it to the boil, then turn down the heat slightly and leave to simmer for 15-20 minutes, stirring now and then, or until thickened and fragrant.
4 Take the pan off the heat, stir in the lemon zest and juice, then divide the stew between bowls. Scatter over the coriander, and serve. If you like, this is great with couscous, or bread for mopping up the leftovers.
The story behind this recipeTrust in Allah, but tie your camel. A proverb so apt, yet learned too late, because I read it well after my camels had run away and I was stranded in the Sahara desert. With me that morning was my travel companion, two nomads and a week’s worth of supplies, stacked beside a dune. I wondered how we’d ever get back to Marrakech, the sensual, throbbing city we had travelled from. We were so far from anything.
The four of us split up and searched, squinting into the golden distance, hoping to spot a sand-coloured beast in a sea of sand. It was hot and tiring but secretly I felt the thrill of bona fide adventure. At sundown our worn out search party regrouped, unsuccessful, and built a fire. Night falls quickly in the desert and with it the temperature drops. I huddled beside the fire, watching the dried twigs crackle and snap in the flames. Our weary young cameleer, Mohammad, fell asleep, wrapped in his djellaba.
Mbarek poked the embers with a stick, scraping them flat, then lifted a pot from the shadows behind him and sat it on the white hot ash. From various bags he snatched handfuls of spices and tossed them into the pot. That scent will always stay with me; cumin, coriander, nutmeg and a medley of other aromas I couldn’t put my finger on. It smelled like the Morocco I had always imagined and was just getting to know; the heady scent of the Marrakech souks and the sizzling plates of the Djemaa el Fna night market. Here, the smell was even more intoxicating.
Mbarek’s stew revived us that night and the bowls of warming spices lifted our spirits. Quiet reflection turned to chatter and laughter. After, my friend produced a pack of dates and the four of us shared them, lying back on the cool sand, taking in the stars and telling stories. A big white moon peeked over the horizon, creeping slowly upwards; the soft glow casting moon shadows. We may have lost our camels, but from it we found new friendships and incredible memories. And I'll never forget that stew.
