Azilal

In Azilal I stayed with Natasha. It is a beautiful town in the mountains that is postcard ready with snowcapped mountains, lots of green and waterfalls. One of my first days we walked around and picked fresh olives. It was also cold, and small. The cold was difficult because it’s the kind of cold that gets into your bones cause due to the poor insulation it’s just as cold inside as outside. Consequently, there is nowhere to be warm but in your bed under several covers. It’s also a small town, and therefore shuts down early. Not much to do at night, especially when it’s cold outside.

Yet it was in Azilal that I ate best. Natasha cooked much amazing food, including another of the greatest meals of my life (and yall wonder why I was in Morocco for a month). We went to the slaughterhouse where we bought a chicken, saw it murdered before us, and then defeathered and gutted. The first night Natasha made—I cut some tomatoes or something too—some delicious fried chickens with its left side. But the next day she outdid herself with a Moroccan couscous dish with the right side of the chicken.