Tagine Tuesday

"I didn't grow up eating tagine, but after dining in restaurants in Morocco, and in Tunisian restaurants in Paris, Marbella and New York, I grew to love the mix of dried fruits, vegetables and chicken." – Rawia Bashara, from Olives, Lemons and Za'atar










The tagine has a long and storied history in middle eastern and north African cuisine – the origins of the dish dating back to Berbers of 7th century, evolving through the varying presences of Portugal, Spain, France, and now finding its way back to more and more cookbooks which both bemoan the loss of such slow cooking necessary for the proper tagine, but also celebrating its essential components of spices such as coriander, turmeric, cumin, saffron, cardamon, and fruits such as dates, figs or apricots, depending.  As all of the literature is sure to point out, the sort of symbol of Morroccon cuisine, the tagine, isn't necessarily the list of ingredients, but it is both the clay dish used to cook and the mode of heat, traditionally over hot coals. The tagine is a two part pot, a base that holds the various ingredients, and the top, shaped like a cone with an exhaust spout on top which allows the steam from the meat, fruit, nuts, and spices to recirculate back on itself, creating a kind of ragout of shredded meat and vegetables, aromatic, and bursting, no doubt with flavors that likely would transport the diner to the streets of Moroccan Casablanca.

I did not have a tagine, but most of everything else for the fig and ginger chicken tajine recipe out of the wonderful Mediterranean Paleo Cookbook. There is really nothing quite like one pots based on chicken thighs, and so I coated mine with a specialty rotisserie chicken spice then browned them on both sides in oil. I added a quarter of an onion – I don't like meals that are dominated by diced onions, but also wouldn't do without their contribution – then decided to add in a pinch of diced garlic, a pinch of cumin, coriander and salt, then diced in some cremona mushrooms for texture and aroma. I cut eight carrots lengthwise and then quartered them and tossed them for stark color and texture. The recipe at this point (not followed particularly closely to this point...but what are you to do without a tagine in the first place?) called for a full 4 cups of chicken stock but I left it a one cup, hoping for less time cooking over the stove top and for more potent flavor without the dilution of three extra cups of water. The liquid barely filled up alongside of the chicken thighs, I added around ten chopped dates, then let simmer until the liquid reduced to something like a heavy goo. The thighs came out as mini masterpieces of fusion, covered by a near gravy, with the carrots and the figs as nice counterpoints to the heaviness. On the side, a small batch of tabouleh, grainy, light, and sprinkled with a bit of mint.  What I came away with from this recipe was an understanding that the tagine might very well be something of an originally wonderful seasonal delight, in which the cook could take hands full of what was available, and that in the right portions you really end up with a slow cooker process that celebrates the smells and flavors of what is available.