Maroc Mama
Maroc Mama – Tastes, sights, smells and peeks from the kitchen of an American wife living in a Moroccan home.
Maroc Mama
Roast chicken’s and I have a mixed relationship. I like them but I don’t like dealing with them. I will never forget my first experience with a whole chicken. It also began my entry into the world of exploring where my food actually came from. Before I went to Morocco I had never touched raw meat. Ok maybe I did one or two times, but I am more than certain I had never cleaned or touched a whole raw chicken. One day my husband decided we should have a few of his friends over for dinner and could I cook?
Not wanting to appear completely incompetent domestically I agreed. We went shopping in the afternoon to the market stalls, not the grocery store. This should have been one of my first clues that things were going to go downhill. When we got to the chicken man, he proudly held up two chickens for me to pick from. I am pretty sure that my jaw dropped to my feet. I closed my eyes and pointed at one. In a few seconds I heard a THUD and then a lot of scratching and kicking. I had to walk away before I threw up. This was followed by “do you want that cleaned?” Uhh yes. In about 10 minutes I was handed a warm chicken in a plastic bag. Taaa daaa! We walked home and I went in the kitchen to look at the chicken. It was still warm. I now was facing down a dead, warm, raw chicken. I couldn’t even call my mom to figure out what to do next. My husband was baffled as I tried to explain just how different this experience was from what I was used to.
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