The Bountiful and the Hungry (Ramadan Begins)

I returned from my extended visit to Azrou with an arm load of expensive cereal and spices, and a new appreciation for the simple things I took for granted in the States. But when we arrived home, the scenery had changed a bit. The beautiful fields that run bright green through the duwars of our community have always been an important source of food and funds. When we left, people were hard at work picking and processing barley. Before that, they gathered wheat. When we returned, the grains were gone. Instead, people were emerging from the verdant foliage with buckets of sweet delicious tazart (fresh figs). At our house, the same fruit, round and ripe, burdened the adolescent tazart trees just outside our front door. Inside in the courtyard, perfect bunches of grapes hung heavy, gleaming in the morning sun. The basil seeds I had planted were flourishing. Back in the fields, quince, apricots, plums, and corn were nearing completion as well. We discovered, to our surprise, that we were now living in cornucopian oasis delimited by arid desert and mountains as far as the eye can see. Though I continued to enjoy my "Kellogg’s" creations, these facts gave me pause as I pondered the even simpler things there are to appreciate. I mean what could be more minimal than this? We walk through the fields with our neighbors until we reach a fig tree (there are many trees, but each tree is shared by certain groups in the community, so you can't pick from just any tree). We carefully handpick only the perfectly ripe specimens, easily filling a deep plate. Then we go to the nearby aqueducts (underground run-off from the mountains above) we rinse the fruits, and eat them right there, throwing the peeled skins back into the rich soil from where they came. Usually there are leftovers to be taken home for later, and if we see some ripe lemons, plums, or sprig of herbs, we are free to take a little of that home with us too. The last time we visited our host family for lunch, as we were leaving Ahmed reached into a huge sack and transplanted multiple scoops of freshly picked pre-shelled luz (almonds) into another bag for us to take home. It’s delightful! And it emboldened me to experiment with the other local ingredients that I had on hand to make things from scratch. First I made ricotta cheese; easy and quick, but a wonderful treat in a world of "laughing cow". With one success under my belt, I went a little crazy. I threw together some pickles in a jar and put them in the sun for 6 days (delicious); I made a large jar of creamy plain yogurt ready to eat after about a day on top of the fridge; and I perfected hand crushed peanut butter using a heavy metal mortar and pestle from souq. Also at souq I gathered up the courage (and maybe the language skills) to find the souq flour mill and find out how to get whole wheat flour. (I've tried buying it everywhere, but none of the buhanuts carry it). With large grain sacks all over the ground making it hard to walk and a thick cloud of flour dust rolling in the air, I asked the mill worker if I could buy some fresh ground flour. He told me, "I don't sell flour; I just grinds what people give me". Even better! From there I went to a nearby stall outside the souq walls where piles of grain were resting in the sun. After a short discussion about where the salesman lived and how I speak TashlHite (this usually helps with getting the none-tourist price), I asked for 2 kilos of irdan (wheat). I returned to the mill, but he remembered me and asked "did you sort this yet"? In my haste, I had forgotten that all grain in Morocco comes free with small rocks and other unknown objects. It is after all, hand picked from the fields. With that, I agreed to come back next week with sorted grain and encha' llah, return home with fresh local whole wheat flour; which should go great with the pizza dough and banana bread recipes I've perfected. (Thanks to Karen for the oven thermometer! I guess not everything is local). But the crown and jewel of my recent gastronomic endeavors is soda! And not just any soda; watermelon ginger soda with lots of fizz. Honestly I worry about the possible jealousy and greed that the introduction of this magnificent beverage may create... but it’s worth it. I tried making ginger ale first, but I put too much ginger, too much yeast, and not enough sugar. On my second attempt I was making some watermelon juice and I decided to give it a whirl. I added just a little yeast, a bit of sugar, and some crushed ginger. I put it in an old plastic coke bottle and I let it sit on top of the fridge over night. In the morning the plastic was taut so that I knew that the soda was done. After a few hours in the fridge, and a patience few minutes opening it so it wouldn't fizz everywhere, I took my first wonderful taste. Sadly, while I have another larger bottle of the same amazing nectar waiting for me at home next to the thyme/onion flavored homemade pickles and the fig flavored homemade yogurt, I will find myself both hungry and thirsty for the foreseeable future. Why? Because last night as we prepared for bed we heard a knock on the door. Our neighbors had stopped by to let us know the news they had just seen on TV. Ramadan will begin in the morning. Before bed I set the alarm for 5am so that we could get up before the sun, eat our last meal, and drink our last glass of water until the sun goes down again around 8pm. Its 12:30pm here on my first day of fasting. I've had a couple of passing hunger pangs and I'm beginning to get thirst, but nothing I can't handle yet. The hardest part of Ramadan is that people are expected to maintain there same workload even when they fast. After eating before the sun, I went back to bed for a couple hours, but then I had to bike to a nearby duwar and look at the drinking water systems with the man who controls them. Tomorrow, we have an hour long bike ride to visit a hospital with no nurse or doctor. If we slept all day, it would be seen as cheating. I'm not sure how the rest of this day will go, but with all the amazing food growing up around us it’s hard to fathom fasting. I can only assume that as the sun sets, my appreciation for these amazing earthy gifts will continue to intensify. Humdullah!