Category Archives: All recipes

Cooking With The Amazing Valentina Harris At Richard Bertinets’ Cookery School

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We had just returned home from an unforgettable family adventure in Tunisia, joined by our son and his childhood best friend. Throughout our stay, Tunisian hospitality enveloped us, and we delighted in extraordinary local cuisine while soaking up the golden North African sunlight. During the trip, I broke from our routine for a day and spent treasured hours with a local family, wandering through vibrant markets and discovering the art of preparing traditional dishes – the experience offered a genuine glimpse into everyday Tunisian life. Free from work distractions after removing all notifications from my phone, I fully savoured these moments with loved ones.

Back at home, an intriguing email awaited in my personal inbox, gently signalling my return from the warmth and vibrancy of Tunisia to familiar surroundings.

On Tuesday, September 16, 2025, 1:17 pm, The Bertinet Kitchen <bertinet@bertinet.com> wrote:

Hello 

We do hope you are well.

We have places available on the following fantastic class and we wondered if you would like to join us:- 

Regional Italian Cooking – A Day in Sicily with Valentina Harris Saturday 20th September 10am 

Here are some details about the course:-

Throughout this course, Valentina will share her extensive knowledge and passion for Italian cooking, guiding you through a variety of authentic recipes that showcase the unique flavours and ingredients from the largest Mediterranean island of Sicily.

You can expect to delight in dishes along with Valentina’s impressive knowledge and anecdotes in this hands on cooking class with the best of Italian produce to the fore.  The menu is based around a traditional Italian feast with antipasto, primi, secondi, contorno and dolce, with dishes including zuppetta di cozze (little mussel soup), zucca in agrodolce alla Siciliana (sweet and sour Sicilian pumpkin), scaloppine al marsala and a gelato alla nocciola with hazelnut meringues.

This course promises to enhance your culinary skills and inspire your love for Italian cuisine. You will emerge armed with knowledge, recipes, skill, and plenty of tips for cooking an array of delectable Italian dishes.

Valentina is our regular Italian tutor and has taught at the Kitchen for many years. She is a noted and much loved authority on Italian cooking and author of over 60 books on Italian cookery including Pasta Galore and Italian Regional Cooking, a culinary tour of Italy.  She appears regularly on TV, including her own series Italian Regional Cookery.

What a stroke of luck – the email arrived on Tuesday afternoon, and the cookery class was set for that Saturday at Richard Bertinet’s renowned school in Bath. Over time, courses at The Bertinet Kitchen have provided me with opportunities to learn from a diverse line-up of acclaimed chefs, each bringing their own unique approach and expertise.

My connection with Richard was further deepened at Kitchen on the Edge of the World in Norway in 2023, where he was among the many talented professionals leading workshops and inspiring fellow participants. Experiences like these – whether in Bath or on distant shores – have broadened my appreciation for food, learning, and the sense of community that comes from sharing it all together.

Italian food has always held a special place in my heart – especially the soulful, regional dishes that define each area beyond just pizza, unless I’m lucky enough to be dining in Italy itself, in Naples, the Pizza’s traditional home. My first true overseas cooking adventure took me to captivating Puglia in 2013, where I stayed for a week, at the enchanting organic farm Masseria Montenapoleone.

There, days unfolded amidst the beauty of the olive groves and historic stone walls, exploring the time-honoured rhythms of Italian family life. I rolled my own pasta under the guidance of my passionate host, visited local artisans crafting mozzarella, burrata, and ricotta using centuries-old techniques, and witnessed the pride that goes into every bottle of olive oil.

Each meal we prepared or ate – whether in the kitchen, at a sun-dappled table, or during lively market outings – became an invitation to share in traditions that are equal parts hospitality, flavour, and joy. The experience not only deepened my appreciation for Puglian cuisine but also left me with memories as rich and enduring as the land itself.

Sicilian cuisine was not familiar to me, so the opportunity to spend time with an expert was not to be missed, I quickly responded with a ‘yes please’.

Stepping through the doors of The Bertinet Kitchen for my eleventh visit, I felt the familiar excitement settle in. Upstairs, the inviting shop brimmed with beautiful kitchen tools. books and artisan treats, while downstairs the school buzzed with energy, ready for a new day of learning.

Jen, the ever-enthusiastic head of the kitchen team, had orchestrated every detail with ease, and Valentina was there to greet us with her signature warmth and expertise. The kitchen itself – bright, fully equipped, and set for discovery – welcomed each guest with an array of refreshments, including Richard’s legendary homemade bread and preserves, a testament to the school’s love of real food and hospitality.

As I introduced myself to the group I’d be spending the day with, there was a sense of camaraderie from the outset, everyone united by a shared anticipation for learning, laughter, and unforgettable flavours. Each visit somehow feels even more special than the last

Valentina Harris welcomed us with her trademark warmth and a storyteller’s flair – qualities honed over decades as one of Britain’s true ambassadors for authentic Italian cuisine. With roots tracing back to the Sforza dynasty of Milan and a childhood steeped in the flavours and rituals of her Anglo-Italian family,

Valentina truly embodies the living spirit of Italy at the table. Her deep respect for tradition is matched by extraordinary expertise, evident in her authorship of more than 50 acclaimed books covering the rich tapestry of Italian cooking. As a chef, educator, and broadcaster, she has left an indelible mark on food lovers across the world.

Beyond her impressive career in food media and teaching, Valentina has played an important role in empowering women in the culinary professions. The London chapter of Les Dames d’Escoffier – an international philanthropic organization dedicated to supporting women in food, beverage, and hospitality – was launched by Dame Sue Carter with essential contributions from Valentina and Marianne Fitzpatrick (Lumb) in 2010. Through her work with the chapter, Valentina continues to foster professional growth and camaraderie, mentoring culinary talent and celebrating the achievements of women in the industry.

During our Sicilian cookery day, Valentina’s guidance transformed a hands-on class into a memorable exploration of regional cuisine. She led us through a heartfelt menu celebrating the flavours of Sicily: Zuppetta di Cozze, a delicate little mussel soup; crisp Polpette di Funghi; fiery L’Arrabbiata; sweet-and-sour Zucca in Agrodolce; and comforting Riso e Melanzane alla Palermitana. The meal finished with cloud-like Spumette di Nocciola and silky hazelnut gelato. Each explanation brought Italian hospitality to life, turning recipes into living acts of memory, generosity, and shared celebration.

A day spent at The Bertinet Kitchen is always a joy, but this occasion was exceptional in both flavour and fellowship. Valentina Harris brought every recipe to life, weaving together stories from her rich culinary heritage with practical lessons and approachable expertise. The array of Sicilian dishes we prepared showcased the inventive contrasts and traditions of the region – nowhere more striking than the pairing of fiery L’Arrabbiata with the sweet-and-sour Zucca in Agrodolce.

The Riso e Melanzane alla Palermitana was a genuine highlight – a harmonious layering of silky aubergine, tender rice, vibrant tomato sauce and melting cheese. Each bite offered a blend of savoury depth, subtle sweetness, and creamy richness, the ingredients melding together to create a dish that was both comforting and bursting with flavour. Its appeal lay in the balance of texture and taste: the smoky aubergine and bright tomato perfectly complemented by the indulgent cheese and fragrant rice – a celebration of Sicilian home cooking at its most delicious.

After those vibrant, savoury courses, dessert was an event in itself: Valentina led us through crafting spumette di nocciola – light hazelnut meringues – and a silky hazelnut gelato made by toasting hazelnuts, making a praline with caramel and the nuts, cooling, and then blitzing before adding to a velvety crème anglaise base. The roasty sweetness of the gelato, paired with the delicate meringues, closed the meal with pure Sicilian spirit and unmistakable finesse.

The entire experience was a reminder of the thoughtful environment Richard Bertinet and his team foster at the school: a place where learning is hands-on, the ingredients shine, and every dish becomes a celebration of skill and community. Sharing the table over such memorable fare, with laughter and conversation flowing (and plenty of matching wine), gave the day lasting resonance.

As I look ahead to next month’s adventure at Rick Stein’s Cookery School in Padstow, the lessons and inspiration gathered from this brilliant Sicilian feast at Bertinet’s will travel with me – reinforcing just how rewarding it is to cook, taste, and learn in great company.

………………………………….Until next time L8ers………………………………..

نهار زين طيبنا مع عايلة تونسية في سوسة A Beautiful Day Cooking With a Tunisian Family in Sousse

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I rose before dawn, the gentle promise of a Tuesday awakening, the fourth day of my fifth journey to Tunisia – a country whose sun-drenched memories began for me on my twenty-first birthday. While others celebrated with fleeting parties and the haze of hangovers, I chose a week wrapped in the golden warmth of 27 to 30 degrees, wandering timeless corridors beneath El Jem’s ancient arches and tracing cinematic dreams at the Star Wars set at Matmata. There’s a quiet magic here; each return only deepens my fascination for this mystical country.

Our hotel was north of Port El Kantaoui, the port had just been completed the 1st time I travelled here nearly 40 years ago, we were staying in Sousse, but visited the port on one of our days out.

Port El Kantaoui, just north of Sousse, stands as one of Tunisia’s most ambitious tourism projects—a meticulously planned resort born from a vision to transform the nation’s appeal for international visitors. Inspired by the allure of Western Mediterranean marinas, its creation in the late 1970s drew on chic Moorish design and an artificial harbour as the centrepiece, instantly setting it apart from the more traditional hospitality found in Sousse’s city centre.

Before Port El Kantaoui, Sousse’s hotels primarily catered to classic beachgoers and travellers eager to soak up local sights, but this integrated resort marked a turning point—ushering in an era of luxury, modern amenities, and a distinctively European flavour in Tunisian tourism. The impact on the region has been profound: not only did it redefine the local hotel scene and create thousands of new tourism jobs, but it also established Sousse as a year-round destination for package holidays and marina lifestyles.

Today, Port El Kantaoui’s elegant streets and bustling quays continue to attract visitors seeking a fusion of North African warmth and Mediterranean sophistication.

I was welcomed by the delightful Nabil at 09:30, with booking and communication made effortless thanks to Tunisian Flavour – a true pleasure from start to finish. My culinary day was private, just for me, although there’s always the option to join a group if that suits your style. As someone whose enthusiasm sometimes overflows, I cherish the chance to immerse myself in tours or classes alone, allowing me to absorb every moment.

After parking, and before we entered the storied lanes of the Medina, I was invited to select the day’s menu from a dazzling list of thirty Tunisian dishes. The decision set the tone for our adventure. Among the offerings was Tajine Malsouka – a much-loved treasure of Tunisian cuisine, reminiscent of a quiche but wrapped in delicate malsouka pastry, crisped to golden perfection and filled with a savoury mixture of chicken, lamb, eggs, cheese, and fresh herbs. Another tempting choice was Nwasser, a cherished Tunisian pasta delicately cut into tiny squares, steamed until perfectly tender, and often served beneath a blanket of succulent chicken in rich tomato sauce, with chickpeas and vibrant vegetables woven through. That lingering moment of selecting my dishes before entering the Medina set a gentle rhythm for the day – one shaped by flavour, tradition, and the warmth of shared experience.

My menu reflected my longing for authenticity. Ojja was to be the star: beloved in Tunisia, this dish features eggs gently poached in a fiery tomato sauce, with green peppers, onions, and plenty of harissa. Most famously paired with merguez sausages, ojja brings together the hearty notes of cumin, paprika, and garlic, bubbling away until perfect for scooping up with crusty bread – a true celebration of Tunisian home cooking.

And because I couldn’t resist, I shared my fondness for brik, the iconic crispy treat I once saw Keith Floyd cook on TV at the El Jem amphitheatre – Nabil kindly offered to show me how to make it a special extra.

For my second choice, I selected Kafteji: a classic Tunisian street food where fried potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, pumpkin, and sometimes zucchini are chopped together, mixed with eggs, and seasoned with cumin, coriander, and a touch of harissa. Served with warm bread, Kafteji is both rustic and comforting – a staple of Tunisian kitchens and snack bars, enjoyed any time of day and loved for its bold, colourful flavours.

The shopping trip into the heart of the Medina was nothing short of epic. Stepping into a world alive with colour and scent, I found myself surrounded by piles of freshest herbs – dill, mint, coriander, parsley – each leaf and sprig bursting with promise and flavour. Much like my adventures through the hidden corners of Morocco, I purposefully wandered beyond the tourist trail with Nabil to where real life unfolded: bustling market stalls, vendors calling with pride, the air thick with the fragrance of earth and spice.

Shopping where locals shop, I revelled in the ritual of tasting, smelling, and with Nabil, carefully selecting ingredients, seeking only the most vibrant and perfect for the dishes ahead. There is an undeniable thrill to browsing food markets – each stall a feast for the senses, every display telling a story. Familiar greens mingled with new discoveries, the market’s energy and abundance filling me with delight. It was just brilliant, the kind of experience that cooks up lifelong memories alongside the day’s recipes.

If there is one ingredient that always seems more vibrant and irresistible when travelling, it’s the tomato. Abroad, their sun-ripened sweetness and fragrance surpass anything I’ve tasted at home – I simply cannot get enough. During my stay at the hotel, juicy, crimson tomatoes found their way onto my plate at least twice a day, an essential centrepiece in salads bursting with authentic flavour – so unlike the pale, bland offerings I’ve grown used to back in the U.K.

The market was overflowing with them: plump and glistening, heaped in glorious abundance, the scent hanging thick in the air. Each tomato promised the taste of sunshine and earth, a simple perfection that felt almost impossible to capture outside these travels.

We continued our journey through the winding alleys of the Medina, stopping at vibrant market stalls to gather the day’s essential ingredients. Each pause brought another burst of colour and aroma – bright herbs, fresh vegetables, spices so fragrant they lingered in the air. The rhythm of local life pulsed around us, every purchase infused with intention and excitement for the cooking to come.

After the market, we retraced our steps to the car, our bags now heavy with promise. Yet the adventure wasn’t done: on the way to Nabil’s home, we visited a delightful series of specialist shops, each one a treasure trove in its own right. There, we picked up freshly made harissa, fiery and aromatic, plump merguez sausages, and glistening olives. These final, carefully chosen ingredients would tie the meal together, their flavours echoing the spirit of Tunisia – generous, bold, and unforgettable.

After a short drive, we arrived at Nabil’s family home where I was introduced to his wife and professional chef Nisaf, my guide for the cooking lessons to follow – the home was a tranquil oasis enveloped in greenery and the gentle shade of leafy trees. The house exuded a cool serenity, with its inviting patio and comfortable chairs set out to savour the softness of the Tunisian breeze. The sheltered garden offered a quiet escape, promising a sense of peace and familial warmth.

Stepping inside, I was welcomed not as a guest, but as a long-awaited member of the household – greeted by genuine smiles and a hospitality that felt deeply rooted in Tunisian tradition. A table was thoughtfully being prepared with refreshments, an offering that was both generous and heart warming. In this private sanctuary, I felt a true sense of privilege, as if I were rediscovering distant family after many seasons apart.

Bread and deep green extra virgin olive oil graced the table – did you know Tunisia’s olive groves span nearly a third of the country and place it among the world’s top five producers. Renowned for organic, flavourful oils like Chemlali and Chetoui, Tunisia’s harvest is largely exported and garners global acclaim, its reputation now standing proudly beside Spain, Italy, and Turkey.

Alongside were figs and bssisa – a beloved Tunisian staple made from roasted grains and legumes, ground and blended with spices, then enriched with olive oil or milk into a nourishing paste or drink. Steeped in tradition and family ritual, bssisa embodies the essence of Tunisian hospitality, uniting generations through its wholesome flavours and generous spirit. Harissa was there too, the ever-present, fiery chilli paste crafted from sun-dried peppers, garlic, olive oil, and aromatic spices – a condiment that captures the vibrant soul of Tunisian cuisine. Completing the spread, coffee gently scented with rose petal essence offered fragrant, delicious comfort.

The spacious family kitchen was ready for an afternoon of discovery. Here, I was welcomed into the secrets of time-honoured Tunisian cooking, sharing those cherished moments that make one feel utterly at home, if only for a sweet, fleeting afternoon—the anticipation humming with the promise of unforgettable memories.

So, back to my menu, Ojja, Kafteji and Brik, a selection of dishes unknown to me (with the exception of Brik. Nisaf was going to show me how to create this traditional Tunisian dishes and I was excited to learn some new techniques.

Ojja

Ojja is a deeply traditional Tunisian dish with humble roots in home kitchens, reflecting the fusion of Berber, Arab, and Mediterranean culinary influences over centuries. Its signature mix of eggs, tomato, peppers, harissa, and spicy merguez sausage embodies the bold flavours of Tunisia, while adaptations vary regionally and by family. The dish is regarded as a cornerstone of authentic Tunisian comfort food, celebrated for its ability to adapt and unite diverse tastes and ingredients.

Kafteji

Kafteji, now a Tunisian staple found in street stalls and home kitchens, began as a creative way to use available vegetables – potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, pumpkin—chopped and fried, mixed with eggs, and spiced generously. Its preparation style, where all ingredients are diced and mixed, is reflected in its name, derived from the Arabic for “chopped”. While some elements may echo Mediterranean and even Turkish traditions, kafteji’s evolution and widespread popularity are distinctly Tunisian, symbolizing hospitality, creativity, and the communal pleasures of everyday meals.

Brik

Brik’s origins are a tapestry of influences: its ultra-thin pastry (warqa or malsouka) and fried fillings likely evolved from Turkish börek – introduced via the Ottoman Empire – while the classic runny egg filling may owe its presence to Andalusian Jews who arrived in Tunisia after the 15th-century expulsion from Spain. Over centuries, brik became a uniquely Tunisian delicacy, made with potato, egg, seafood, or meat, and featured at holidays, Ramadan, and festive gatherings. Its enduring appeal lies in Tunisia’s layering of culinary traditions, each bite echoing the country’s role as a crossroads of Mediterranean culture.

The artistry of Tunisian cooking reveals itself dish by dish, beginning with the bold flavors of ojja. The process starts by pricking merguez sausages with a fork and cooking them separately with some chopped dried chilli, allowing their spicy oils to seep out and deepen their flavour as they brown. Once done, the sausages are set aside, their aromatic fat reserved.

In the same pan, onions and garlic gently sauté in olive oil, joined by chopped green peppers that brighten and sweeten as they cook. Tomatoes and harissa follow, mingling with cumin and coriander until a rich, fiery sauce develops. The browned merguez rounds, glistening with their own juices, are folded back in, and finally eggs are cracked into the bubbling sauce, their whites barely set, yolks golden and just runny. Scooped up with fresh bread, ojja embodies the heart of a Tunisian gathering.

Moving across the kitchen, the creation of kafteji is a celebration of color and texture. Potatoes and squash are sliced thin and fried separately, each piece taking on a golden, crisped edge. Peppers and chilies are fried in turn, then all the vegetables come together in a medley on a broad platter. Fried eggs are then laid across the surface and everything is cut into enticing strips, mingling vegetable and egg in a fragrant jumble. This dish, which is always served for sharing – is wholesome, rustic, full of sunshine and very tasty.

Brik provides the theatrical finale. Each delicate sheet of pastry (malsouka, which we purchased freshly made at the Medina) is filled with a little seasoned tuna placed at its centre, some Tuna. chopped Parsley and a little chopped Onion along with the freshest egg available. The pastry is folded to envelop its filling, with quick, sure hands, and lowered carefully into shimmering hot oil. In just moments, the brik crisps and blisters to a golden finish, the egg inside barely set with a runny yolk. Served immediately, with a wedge of lemon ( and for me Harissa, I love the stuff), brik is crisp yet delicate, a Tunisian delight both sumptuous and fleeting – capturing the very soul of the country’s spirited home cooking.

We drank from traditional white and blue Tunisian terracotta mugs – slightly porous and beautifully handcrafted. The clay kept our drinks deliciously cool, even in the midday warmth, each sip a simple pleasure that echoed centuries of Tunisian craftsmanship and refreshment.

Nisaf was nothing short of magical – a chef imbued with talent and generosity, guiding each step with a graceful confidence that made every new technique feel within reach. With Nabil’s able hands and his effortless translation between languages, learning was transformed into pure delight; culinary secrets became stories, and the kitchen itself pulsed with laughter and the easy rhythm of shared discovery. As we finally sat down to savour the feast we’d created, each bite shimmered with the flavours of Tunisia, rich with memory and promise. I left the table not only filled with the most delicious food, but also with a new treasury of knowledge and inspiration – thirty genuine recipes tucked eagerly into my bag, ready to carry the vibrance of Tunisian cuisine into my own kitchen, time and time again.

After I arrived back to the U.K. I was invited to join a Sicilian Cookery Session at Richard Bertinets Cookery School in Bath which I will be writing about soon.

………………………………. Until Next Time…………………….. L8ers

From Farm to Table and Gallery to Gift—A Moroccan Day of Indulgence and Inspiration (Day 5)

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I awoke and blinked into the golden Moroccan light, hardly believing it was already Wednesday, the last full day in Essaouira. Since stepping off the plane the previous Saturday, the world I’d left behind had melted away: work, customers, endless problem-solving, even the distant rumblings of the world economy, all had faded into irrelevance. This journey had done its magic, untangling the knots of daily life and filling the space with colour, flavour, and discovery.

Each sunrise brought new marvels, and I found myself immersed in the rhythms of Morocco, its vibrant markets, ancient traditions, and the intoxicating pulse of its cuisine. Guiding me through it all was Amanda: not just my personal guide and masterful chef, but a kindred spirit whose passion for Morocco’s culture and food opened doors I never knew existed. With every shared meal and story, I felt a sense of wonder grow, a reminder that travel, at its best, is a gentle awakening to beauty, friendship, and the joy of being fully present in the world.

Making a rich saffron hollandaise is one of life’s true pleasures, luxurious, golden, and deeply satisfying. I’ve had the delight of whisking it to silkiness a few times before, most memorably at Rick Stein’s Cookery School in Padstow, where it crowned a beautiful ‘tronçon’ of turbot. This morning in Essaouira, the sauce would take centre stage once again. Earlier in the week, we had cured some trout in a vivid blend of beetroot, salt, and sugar, and now it was ready for its moment: breakfast as an event. Slices of the jewel-toned trout were paired with creamy avocado and a perfectly poached egg, all generously draped in that opulent saffron hollandaise and finished with a satisfying crack of fresh black pepper. Each bite was a celebration—of technique, of flavour, and of the sheer joy of starting the day with something extraordinary.

Way back in 2013, I found myself in Puglia, at Masseria Montenapoleone, an organic farm nestled in the sun-drenched heart of southern Italy. It was my very first cooking vacation and the spark that ignited countless culinary adventures to come. There, I learned the subtle art of using flowers not just for beauty, but to create a vibrant, bio-diverse environment: drawing the so-called “unwanted” plant eaters away from crops, while inviting in the pollinators and beneficial insects that keep nature in balance. Akal, here in Morocco, is very much a kindred spirit—an eco-farm that weaves flowers into every aspect of its philosophy. At Akal, the blooms aren’t just guardians of the fields; they’re also an integral part of the tasting experience, gracing the table and infusing the most imaginative, flavourful menus with colour and fragrance. Dining here is more than a meal—it’s a celebration of nature’s harmony, and a reminder of how the smallest details can transform the way we taste the world.

Our lunchtime destination was no more than 15 minutes drive, Domaine Du Val D’Argan. Domaine du Val d’Argan is a remarkable testament to vision, perseverance, and the unique character of Moroccan terroir. Founded by Charles Melia, a seasoned winemaker with deep roots in both France and Morocco, the vineyard sits just outside Essaouira, where the Atlantic winds sweep over limestone and clay soils, echoing the Rhône valley’s own mistral. What began as a retirement dream became a pioneering adventure: Melia cleared stony ground by hand, planted the first Rhône varietals, and patiently learned to coax vines to thrive on the edge of the desert, sheltering them from fierce sun and wind with natural methods and organic care.

Today, Val d’Argan is a landscape of lush vine rows bordered by sorghum and eucalyptus, where dromedaries still help tend the land and the cellar holds the promise of Morocco’s finest vintages. The wines—ranging from bright, aromatic whites to robust reds and elegant rosés—capture the sun, wind, and wild spirit of their setting. Visiting the domaine is more than a tasting; it’s an immersion in a story of resilience and passion, where every glass reflects not only the land’s bounty but also the quiet determination of its founder. This is a vineyard where French tradition and Moroccan landscape meet, yielding wines—and memories—that are truly one of a kind.

I found myself ‘in the moment’ once again, shaded beneath the branches of an ancient olive tree at Domaine du Val d’Argan. Plates of freshly prepared food appeared in a steady, generous procession, vivid salads bursting with local flavour, a fragrant tagine, and turkey roasted on kebab skewers, each dish a celebration of Moroccan abundance. Glasses of the estate’s wines flowed freely, each one a new discovery.

The “Gazelle de Mogador” in white, red, and rosé offered a taste of the Atlantic’s easy elegance, while the Val d’Argan range echoed the vineyard’s Rhône heritage, capturing the region’s sun and wind in every sip. Yet it was the Perle Grise that truly captured the spirit of the place for me, a wine as pale as morning light, delicately aromatic, with hints of citrus blossom and wild herbs, perfectly refreshing beneath the olive canopy. As the afternoon stretched on, a rich chocolate dessert arrived, rounding out a meal that was both relaxed and luxurious. At Domaine du Val d’Argan, the artistry of winemaking and the generosity of Moroccan hospitality come together in a setting as memorable as the wines themselves, a place where every glass tells a story, and every moment lingers long after the last sip. It was time to head back to Essaouira for some last minute exploration.

As we entered the medina, the air shimmered with the ethereal tones of a young man playing a handpan, his fingers coaxing otherworldly melodies from the spaceship-like drum that echoed off the ancient stone walls.

As the sun dips toward the Atlantic, the ancient medina of Essaouira began to pulse with an energy that is both timeless and electric, the unmistakable prelude to the Gnaoua World Music Festival. For a few magical days each year, the city’s labyrinthine alleys and windswept squares become a living stage, as hypnotic rhythms and haunting melodies spill from every doorway and rooftop. The air grows thick with the deep, trance-inducing thrum of the guembri, the metallic clatter of krakebs, and the soaring call-and-response of Gnaoua singers, their music weaving a spell that draws locals and travellers alike into its embrace.

Founded in 1998, the festival is a vibrant celebration of Gnaoua culture, descendants of West African slaves who brought with them a mystical musical tradition rooted in healing, spiritual trance, and communal memory. Over the years, the festival has blossomed into a global gathering, where Gnaoua masters share the stage with jazz virtuosos, blues legends, and musicians from every corner of the world. This fusion of sounds creates a heady, intoxicating atmosphere, where ancient African rhythms meet flamenco, reggae, rock, and Sufi chants, all under the open Moroccan sky.

The festival is more than a concert—it’s a living tapestry of history, spirituality, and artistic exchange. The music, once used in sacred rituals to heal and connect with the divine, now fills Essaouira’s medina with a sense of unity and celebration. For a few unforgettable nights, the city becomes a crossroads of cultures, a place where the boundaries between audience and performer, past and present, seem to dissolve in the intoxicating swirl of sound and spirit.

This stunning plate ( a present for my best friend and wife forever ), is a true testament to Moroccan artistry, its surface alive with intricate geometry and vibrant colour. Crafted in the traditional style of Fez, the design radiates from a central starburst, each petal meticulously hand-painted in shades of emerald green, saffron yellow, and soft rose. Delicate crosshatching and fine black lines create a mesmerizing lattice, while the outer border is woven with interlocking patterns that speak of centuries-old craftsmanship. The plate’s symmetry and precision are captivating, drawing the eye inward and inviting contemplation of the skill and patience required to create such a piece. More than just a vessel, it is a celebration of heritage, a beautiful reminder of Morocco’s rich ceramic traditions and the enduring allure of handmade work.

In the heart of Essaouira’s medina, you’ll often come across what locals call the “magic box”, a beautifully crafted container made from the region’s prized thuya wood. Native to Morocco’s coastal forests and especially abundant around Essaouira, ‘thuya’ wood is renowned for its rich, swirling grain, warm hue, and natural, cedar-like fragrance

Artisans here have honed their craft for generations, turning thuya burl into intricate puzzle boxes, lidded spheres, and inlaid treasures, each one polished to a satiny sheen and finished with lemon oil to enhance its natural luster. These boxes are more than just souvenirs; they’re a testament to Essaouira’s heritage of marquetry and woodworking, a tradition dating back to the 19th century when sultans commissioned decorative objects and furniture from the city’s master craftsmen.

Whether used to store spices, trinkets, or secrets, a thuya wood “magic box” from Essaouira is a piece of living history, fragrant, tactile, and always a little mysterious, as if it holds a story all its own. Our son loves his…

………………………………..Until Next Time………………………….L8ers

The Poetry of Taste and Light – Rustic Eggs, Sea’s Bounty, and Essaouira’s Golden Hour (Day 4)

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While Linda at So Morocco and Amanda at Ourika Organic Kitchen curated the heart of my journey, I relished the freedom to tweak and tailor the experience as inspiration struck (within practical limits, of course). My own research came in handy, too, at Riad Malaika, I was handed a wonderfully handy pocket map, a small gesture that made a world of difference. With it tucked in my pocket, navigating the winding lanes and hidden corners on my second afternoon and evening became a pleasure rather than a puzzle, allowing me to explore with confidence and uncover even more of Essaouira’s magic.

Khlii, also spelled khlea (Arabic: الخليع), is a centuries-old Moroccan method of preserving meat, deeply rooted in the country’s Berber heritage. Developed long before refrigeration, this technique allowed families to store meat in Morocco’s arid climate, ensuring a supply of protein throughout the year, especially after major festivals like Eid al-Adha. The tradition is believed to have originated in Fes, which is still considered the “Capital of Khlii,” before spreading across Morocco and North Africa. The Berbers are credited with introducing this preservation method, which has become an integral part of Moroccan culinary culture, symbolizing both resourcefulness and the art of slow, careful food preparation.

Khlii is typically made from beef or lamb, though camel is sometimes used in southern Morocco. The process begins by cutting the meat into long strips and marinating it in a chermoula—a blend of spices such as cumin, coriander, garlic, and sometimes vinegar and olive oil. The marinated meat is then sun-dried for several days, intensifying its flavor and reducing moisture. Once dried, the meat (now called gueddid) is slowly simmered in a mixture of animal fat (suet) and olive oil, sometimes with added water, until it becomes tender and fully infused with the spices. After cooking, the meat is packed into containers and completely submerged in the rendered fat, which acts as a seal and preservative. Properly stored in a cool, dry place, khlii can last for up to two years at room temperature, making it a reliable pantry staple.

Khlii is more than just a preserved meat; it is a symbol of Moroccan resilience and culinary ingenuity. Traditionally, families would prepare large quantities annually, especially in cities like Fes and Marrakesh, ensuring a supply of protein-rich food throughout the year. In modern Morocco, khlii is considered a delicacy, often enjoyed for its deep, concentrated flavor. It is most famously served with eggs for breakfast, but also finds its way into tagines, soups, salads, and even flatbreads. The rich, smoky aroma and robust taste of khlii evoke nostalgia and a sense of connection to Moroccan heritage, making it a cherished ingredient in both rural and urban kitchens.

Khlii (khlea) with eggs was our Moroccan breakfast for this morning, combining rich, spiced preserved lamb with fresh eggs. The khlii is gently heated in its own fat until fragrant, then eggs are cracked in, either left whole or lightly scrambled. Served hot with Moroccan bread, it’s was a deeply tasty and satisfying way to start the day, bringing together centuries-old tradition and everyday comfort.

After our savoury breakfast, I remembered the generous box of Moroccan pastries we’d bought, when better to indulge? They paired perfectly with a strong black coffee. My favourite was the mhencha, the coiled, wheel-like pastry stuffed with almond paste and delicately scented with orange blossom. Its crisp, golden layers gave way to a rich, nutty filling, utterly delicious and the ideal sweet finish to a memorable morning meal.

The allure of a fish cataplana begins with the stock, a foundation as soulful as the Atlantic breeze. This was the next cooking ‘event’ of the week.

Into a heavy pot, we tumbled thick slices of onion and carrot, their natural sweetness coaxed out as they softened in a shimmer of olive oil. Sliced garlic joined the mix, releasing its gentle perfume and promising warmth in every spoonful. Then came the fish heads and the mighty prawn heads, their briny richness destined to deepen the broth. A bouquet garni of fresh parsley stems was nestled in, a green promise of freshness to balance the sea’s intensity.

Amanda explained the importance of each step, building layer upon layer of delicate flavour. As everything mingled, a generous splash of white wine and a bold dash of cognac were poured in, sending up a fragrant steam, herbaceous, oceanic, and just a little bit wild.

The stock simmered quietly, drawing out every nuance, while anticipation built for the next act: the union of seafood, saffron, and fresh herbs in the cataplana’s embrace. This was more than a recipe, it was a slow, joyful unfolding of aromas and textures, a celebration of the coast in every breath.

While the stock quietly worked its magic, we built another essential layer: onions and ripe tomatoes, sautéed together until soft and jammy, forming a rustic, sun-bright base for the cataplana. When it was time to assemble, the seafood came next, plump prawns and tender squid nestled into the tomato-onion mixture, with thick pieces of bass carefully arranged on top at the very end, ensuring they would steam gently and stay perfectly tender, never overcooked.

A pinch of saffron, along with fresh parsley, promised both colour and aroma. We let everything simmer gently, no need for a dramatic lid or staged photo, just honest, attentive cooking, letting the ingredients speak for themselves as the kitchen filled with the unmistakable scent of the sea and southern sunshine.

To bring balance and a touch of contrast to the soft, yielding seafood and the rich, sun-drenched base, a simple pleasure was in order: bread. A fresh baguette was sliced into generous rounds, destined to become golden and crisp. The slices sizzled in a pan with plenty of butter, a splash of olive oil keeping the richness in check and lending a gentle fruitiness.

Once burnished and fragrant, each piece was rubbed with cut garlic, the warmth coaxing out its mellow bite. The result—crunchy, aromatic toasts—was the perfect counterpoint, ready to soak up the cataplana’s juices and elevate the meal with a satisfying, rustic crunch. Sometimes, it’s these simple touches, shared in good company, that make a feast truly memorable.

Earlier in the day, the clear, bright blue skies signaled the perfect opportunity for an evening visit to the observation point overlooking Essaouira. Keeping in mind the logistics with our driver, we set out promptly at 19:45 to capture the magic of the moment.

As a photography enthusiast, I brought along my trusted gear: a Fuji XT-1, a Leica D-Lux 7, and of course, the ever-reliable iPhone 16 Pro Max. The XT-1 was set to auto mode, snapping a picture every 20 seconds for up to 20 shots, carefully nestled on the stone wall atop a protective blanket. The Leica was mounted on a sturdy tripod, ready for precise framing, while the iPhone was at hand for spontaneous shots amidst the action.

Despite the rather windy conditions, I was ecstatic with the results, capturing the essence of Essaouira’s evening glow with reasonable clarity and artistry.

……………………Until next time………………L8ers…………………….

From Golden Maakouda to Ocean’s Bounty, and Couscous Steeped in Time: Savouring the Soul of Essaouira – (Day 3)

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I’d arrived in Essaouira the afternoon before, the Atlantic breeze ushering me through the medina’s winding lanes. My carossa – the quiet, determined man with his battered two-wheeled cart struggled to find Riad Malaika, its entrance hidden deep within a shadowed alley where not even the afternoon sun could reach. After a few wrong turns, some good-natured directions from locals, and a laugh at our shared confusion, we finally found the heavy wooden door. The riad welcomed me with its cool, tranquil courtyard, a secret oasis in the heart of the city.

Later, as dusk settled over Essaouira, I found myself alone at Butterfly Space. The hum of conversation and the clatter of cutlery were a gentle backdrop to my solitary meal, a plate of something vibrant and local, each bite a quiet celebration of arrival. The flavours lingered, weaving themselves into my first memories of the city.

That night, the riad wrapped me in its calm, the world outside fading into silence behind ancient walls.

At first light, the stillness was broken by a wild chorus of seagulls wheeling above the rooftops, their cries echoing through the medina and tugging me from sleep. Essaouira was waking, and so was I, drawn from dreams by the restless energy of the Atlantic and the city’s salt air. It was Monday, I think, though Morocco has a way of making days blur together. A new day had begun, one filled with promise, the memory of a solitary feast, and the wild, joyful chorus of seagulls overhead.

Breakfast was a delight, a celebration of Moroccan hospitality, almost too generous for the modest table. Jewel-like dried fruits and nuts waited beneath a glass-topped container, inviting discovery with every lift of the lid.

There was fresh bread, still warm and fragrant, perfect for scooping up the star of the morning: Amlou, that magical blend of roasted almonds, golden argan oil, and honey, rich and nutty, its flavour lingering long after each bite.

A single slice of crispy French toast, likely cut from a baguette, added a subtle sweetness and crunch, a golden accent among the morning’s offerings.

A variant of traditional Harcha, the rustic semolina cake, brought a tender, savoury note, its edges just crisp enough to satisfy. A glass of fresh fruit juice, vibrant and cool, stood alongside a beautifully prepared fruit salad, each piece glistening as if kissed by the morning sun.

Black tea, deep and fragrant, was served simply in a cup, its warmth and aroma a gentle comfort, mingling with the scents of homemade jam and honey from tiny pots nearby. A one-egg omelette completed the spread, a quiet companion to the abundance around it, and a reminder that simplicity can be its own luxury.

It was a breakfast to savour slowly, each element a note in a harmonious Moroccan morning, welcoming, generous, and filled with the promise of the day ahead.

As I carried my case down to reception, a gentle summons awaited me, Amanda, my guide and chef, and our driver had just arrived at the city’s edge. The hotel’s own carossa expertly appeared, his two-wheeled cart gliding through the labyrinthine corridors of the medina with a grace born of years navigating these ancient stones. We emerged at the medina’s threshold, where our new driver, Adil, greeted us with a beaming smile; kind, gentle, and unfailingly polite, his calm presence a welcome anchor amid the lively swirl of Moroccan traffic, which always seems to dance somewhere between chaos and choreography.

With my bags stowed in the 4×4, Amanda and I slipped back into the medina’s embrace, eager to explore its secrets and gather fresh produce for the day’s adventures. The morning air was alive with possibility as we wandered between sunlit alleys and cool shadows, pausing to admire the vibrant displays of local shops.

Our first stop, the legendary Pâtisserie Driss, was shuttered for Eid al-Adha, the sweet scent of celebration lingering in the air even as the doors remained closed. Undeterred, we wandered on and soon discovered Pâtisserie Boujemaa, its windows brimming with confections that sparkled like jewels in the morning light.

Stepping inside felt like entering a world of Moroccan enchantment, orange blossom and honey perfuming the air, trays laden with cornes de gazelle, glossy chebakia, crumbly ghoriba, and crisp briouats. Each pastry was a testament to Morocco’s centuries-old tradition of hospitality and artistry. For just 150 dirhams, we left with a full kilogram of these sweet treasures, each bite a celebration in itself, some sweet treats for rest of the week.

We wound our way through the medina’s twisting corridors until we reached one of the main thoroughfares, where our first snack stop awaited: maakouda. We enjoyed them just as they were, fresh from the fryer, golden and crisp, with no need for accompaniments. Eaten plain, the gentle warmth of turmeric and cumin took centre stage, allowing the comforting flavours of these humble potato fritters to truly shine. There’s a special charm in the simplicity of Moroccan street food, and with each bite of maakouda, we tasted that perfect balance of spice and tradition.

Shopping in Morocco is a true adventure for the senses. Here, the focus is on flavour rather than flawless appearance; tomatoes, courgettes, and carrots may not look perfect, but their taste is unbeatable. We delved deep into the medina, venturing into bustling corners where few travellers stray, on a mission to gather ingredients for our culinary explorations. This was a foodie holiday, after all, and Amanda, an exceptionally talented chef, was eager to discover every hidden gem. In one shop, chickens clustered together in a large open box, a scene both fascinating and distinctly local. The vegetable stalls were overflowing with vibrant produce, and we selected earthy beetroots for a trout cure back at the villa, along with fresh courgettes and carrots for the couscous we’d prepare later. Wandering through these tucked-away markets was both fun and eye-opening, the abundance of vegetables, the lively atmosphere, and the remarkably low prices all added to the magic of our Moroccan shopping adventure.

We settled in for a good half hour over a glass of steaming mint tea at a tiny café nestled beside a lively market stall, where great tubs of glossy olives in every shade of green and purple caught our eye. The stall was a paradise for any food lover; mounds of spicy green and red harissa, generous portions of rich, aromatic khlii (Moroccan preserved lamb), and an ever-changing parade of locals stopping by for their daily essentials.

As we lingered over our sweet atay b’naanaa, the air alive with the mingled scents of herbs and spices, we soaked in the vibrant scene. For anyone curious, atay b’naanaa simply means “mint tea” in Moroccan Arabic – atay is tea, and naanaa is mint, so there’s no banana involved, just a fragrant blend of green tea, fresh spearmint, and sugar. Here, at the heart of the medina, surrounded by the raw ingredients of Moroccan cuisine, each sip of tea felt like a celebration, a leisurely pause and a perfect window into daily life before our next culinary adventure.

After the excitement of selecting fresh fish and prawns from the morning’s catch and savouring them perfectly grilled over charcoal, we spent a wonderful few hours exploring the medina’s winding alleys. The markets brimmed with vibrancy, tubs overflowing with glossy olives, heaps of fiery harissa, and generous servings of khlii, all set to the backdrop of everyday Moroccan bustle. Laden with ingredients and inspired by the sights and scents around us, we set off for our next destination: La Fromagerie, an artisan goat’s cheese maker, where we hoped to discover yet another delicious facet of Morocco’s culinary heritage.

Leaving the bustle of Essaouira behind, we set out on a scenic 13-mile journey along the N8, turning onto the R301 as the landscape unfurled before us. Hidden well back from the road, La Fromagerie emerged like a serene oasis—so peaceful that the distant hum of traffic vanished completely. The air was fragrant with blooms from lush gardens, and vibrant flowers framed the entrance, setting the tone for what felt like a secret retreat.

We were welcomed with a fascinating tour of the goat cheese production unit, where the day’s fresh milk was being transformed into creamy rounds of artisan cheese. The resident goats, content and curious, grazed nearby, while chickens scratched in the shade, supplying eggs for the kitchen. It was a beautiful glimpse into the rhythms of living off the land—a place where sustainability and tradition go hand in hand.

The meal at La Fromagerie was a true celebration of local flavours and craftsmanship. We began with a tasting of goat’s cheeses at varying stages of maturity, each one offering its own subtle character and creamy tang. Next came a delightful starter: a round of grilled cheese, its molten centre wrapped in a delicate bread crust and crowned with a tangle of sprouting pulses, simple yet utterly irresistible. Layers of silky aubergine followed, perfectly cooked and infused with just a whisper of tomato and chilli, each bite a harmonious balance of earthiness and warmth. To finish, we savoured ‘lamb mechoui‘, tender, succulent, and deeply flavourful, a dish that lingered long in the memory. Every course was a testament to the art of rustic Moroccan cooking, and together they made for a lunch that was nothing short of perfect.

For those tempted to linger, La Fromagerie also offers charming rooms for an overnight stay, inviting guests to fully immerse themselves in this tranquil corner of rural Morocco.

On our way to Amanda’s villa, we couldn’t resist a stop at Carrefour, a ritual I love when traveling. There’s something fascinating about wandering foreign supermarket aisles, comparing the range of products and prices to those back home. Carrefour’s shelves were stocked with a surprising array of international treats and local staples.

The alcohol section was particularly impressive, boasting a wide selection of beers, wines, and spirits, a reminder of Morocco’s cosmopolitan side. Imported goods, as expected, came at a premium; seeing familiar British biscuits and condiments with their price tags in dirhams was both amusing and eye-opening. The meat counter, however, was nearly bare, a quiet testament to Eid Al-Adha, when families gather and butchers take a holiday. Only a few spicy Merguez sausages remained, hinting at the usual bustle of the market. Visiting a Moroccan hypermarket like Carrefour is more than just shopping, it’s a cultural experience, revealing the rhythms of daily life and the interplay between tradition and modernity.

Our home base for days three to five was Amanda’s beautiful villa outside Essaouira, a whitewashed haven with an airy, open-plan design that struck the perfect balance between light and cool comfort. The spacious kitchen, complete with a generous cooking top and ample prep space, was a dream for any food lover. Outside, a welcoming dining area invited us to linger over meals in the fresh air, while the thoughtful architecture let sunlight pour in without letting the heat intrude. It was the ideal setting for my first Moroccan cooking lesson: couscous, a true labour of love.

Preparing traditional Moroccan couscous with organic, coarse, dark grains is a soulful ritual, steeped in centuries of culinary tradition. It all begins in a wide, shallow gsaa bowl, where the couscous is gently sprinkled with water, a pinch of salt, and a golden drizzle of olive oil. With practiced, gentle hands, the grains are softly rubbed and rolled, their earthy aroma rising as each one is lovingly coated and separated. After a patient rest, the couscous is heaped into the top of a couscoussier, where it steams above a bubbling pot of homemade broth, fragrant with onions, garlic, and a medley of aromatics, perhaps a pinch of saffron or Ras el Hanout. Once the steam has worked its magic, the couscous is tipped out, allowed to cool just enough, and then gently hand rubbed again, breaking up clumps and coaxing the grains to lightness.

This meditative cycle of steaming and gentle hand rubbing is repeated three times, each round drawing out the couscous’s tender, fluffy character without ever becoming sticky. No further water is added after the first step; it is the steam, the touch, and the patience that transform the grains. For the final steaming, we nestled quartered courgettes into the simmering broth, letting their subtle sweetness and fresh green flavor infuse the steam and mingle with the couscous above. When the grains were finally ready, we finished them with a generous knob of butter, folding it through so every grain glistened and carried just a hint of richness.

To serve, we spooned over the meltingly soft onions and vegetables from the broth, then crowned the couscous with golden pieces of fried monkfish, their delicate flavour providing a wonderful contrast to the subtle, fragrant grains. The result was a dish that felt deeply rooted in Moroccan tradition, yet uniquely our own, capturing the spirit of hospitality and the joy of sharing something truly special at the table.

Whilst the couscous was going through its patient, time-honoured ritual, we turned our attention to another culinary experiment I’d long wanted to try: beetroot-cured trout. Earlier that day in Essaouira, we’d picked up some earthy, jewel-toned beetroots, their deep colour promising both flavour and drama. With a quick blitz in the blender, we combined the beetroot with equal measures of salt and sugar, creating a vivid, fragrant cure. We nestled the trout fillets flesh-side down in this mixture, ensuring every surface was in contact with the cure, and left them to work their magic overnight. By the following day, after a gentle rinse to remove the excess salt, we’d have slices of beautifully cured trout, vibrant in colour and delicately seasoned. There’s a special satisfaction in weaving new ideas into a tapestry of tradition, and this little project felt like the perfect companion to our day of slow, soulful cooking.

At last, it was time to sit down and savour the fruits of our labour. Glancing at the timestamps on my photos, I realised we had started at 17:57 and finished at 22:20, a full 4 hours and 23 minutes devoted to creating what was, without a doubt, the tastiest couscous I have ever eaten. The subtle lessons learned along the way were priceless: no shortcuts, no quick-cook grains, just patience, gentle hands, and respect for tradition. The result was light, fluffy, and full of flavour, healthy, satisfying, and a fitting finale to another long day of Moroccan adventure. There’s a special kind of joy in sharing a meal that has been crafted with care, and this couscous was a true celebration of time well spent.

Shukran bzaaf ʿla had nhar zwin, Allah yʿtik sseha ya Chef Amanda!

…………………………….Until next time………………….. L8ers……………………………..

Between Mountains and Medina: The Road to Riad Malaika and the Women of Argan (Day 2)

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I rose early, the morning light barely touching the horizon, my mind still alive with the magic of the day before. It had been a tapestry of wonder – woven with vibrant culture, unexpected friendships, and unforgettable flavours – each moment more extraordinary than the last. Even as the world outside lay quiet, my thoughts danced with memories of a day that seemed endless in its gifts.

As-salamu alaykum (Peace be upon you), I greeted Haj Brahim as he was laying the table for breakfast and what a spread it was. Fresh coffee, boiled eggs, fresh bread, Amlou, which is Morocco’s beloved nut spread, traditionally made by blending roasted almonds, rich argan oil, and honey into a silky, nourishing paste. Its flavour is uniquely deep and nutty, perfect for dipping bread or drizzling over pancakes. In more affordable versions, peanuts often replace almonds, creating a spread that’s still delicious and widely enjoyed. Whether crafted with almonds or peanuts, Amlou captures the warmth and generosity of Moroccan hospitality in every spoonful.

All too soon, the moment came to bid farewell. I could have lingered another day at Dar Tassa, nestled in the tranquil embrace of al-Houz province, where time seems to slow and every view invites reflection. But the road was calling – Essaouira awaited, with new adventures and promises yet to unfold. With a lingering handshake and heartfelt thanks to my new friend, Haj Brahim, we loaded our bags into the waiting 4×4. As we set off, winding eastward toward Marrakech, the memories of Dar Tassa – its warmth, its wonder, travelled with me, woven into the fabric of the journey ahead.

Our journey began with Hicham – pronounced “Hee-Sham” – whose warmth, quick wit, and expert driving made him an instant favourite. Leaving the rugged beauty of the High Atlas mountains behind, we made our way toward Marrakech, pausing for a delightful detour to gather fresh ingredients, enjoy a leisurely coffee, and meet Amanda’s charming husband and daughter. As we sipped and chatted, I discovered that Amanda’s husband shared my passion for music. I introduced him to the band Arena – a new discovery for him – and was delighted to see his immediate enthusiasm. There’s a special joy in sharing music and watching it spark a connection, and that simple moment felt truly brilliant.

As we cruised up the RN8 from Marrakech toward Essaouira in early June, the landscape gradually shifted from the ochre plains to a mosaic of cultivated fields and scrubby woodland. Along this route, we passed neat rows of cabbages and potatoes – common crops in the region at this time of year – thriving in the fertile, sun-warmed soil. Before long, the scenery became increasingly dotted with the gnarled, silvery-green forms of argan trees, their twisted branches a distinctive feature of the countryside between the western High Atlas foothills and the Atlantic coast. This is the heart of Morocco’s argan belt, where these ancient, drought-resistant trees grow almost exclusively, providing livelihoods for local communities and producing the prized oil found in both kitchens and cosmetics around the world. The approach to Essaouira is marked by these iconic argan groves, a living testament to the region’s unique natural and cultural heritage.

I was endlessly captivated by the rhythm of daily Moroccan life unfolding along the roadside – the fruit vendors arranging pyramids of vibrant produce, the butchers with their cuts of meat swaying gently in the cool shade, all framed by the golden sun. As we journeyed onward, small towns would suddenly emerge from the landscape, bustling with people immersed in their everyday routines. In the blink of an eye, these lively scenes slipped past our windows, growing smaller and softer in the rear view mirror, like fleeting glimpses into a thousand untold stories woven across the Moroccan countryside.

It was definitely time for some food when we pulled off the road just outside Sidi L Mokhtar, drawn to the welcoming glow of Café Restaurant Sahara, open around the clock. There, we savoured brochettes de viande hachée – Moroccan skewers of seasoned minced beef, grilled over hot coals until smoky and tender. Each tender bite was perfectly complemented by crisp frites and a vibrant medley of courgettes, carrots, and green beans, their colours bright against the plate. As we lingered over the meal, I sipped strong black tea, its warmth and depth the perfect companion to the flavours before me. In that simple roadside café, with good company and honest food, the spirit of Morocco felt wonderfully alive.

Next stop was Arganomade; Arganomade is a women-run argan oil cooperative near Essaouira, Morocco, renowned for its authentic, high-quality argan oil and traditional products like amlou and argan honey. Visitors can tour the cooperative to see the entire production process, from hand-cracking the nuts to pressing the oil, and learn about the sustainable, waste-free methods used. Buying directly from Arganomade supports local women with fair wages and economic independence, while ensuring you receive pure, genuine argan products. The cooperative offers a welcoming, educational experience and a meaningful connection to Morocco’s rich Berber heritage.

Argan oil is so costly because it’s truly rare and painstakingly crafted. The argan tree grows only in a small corner of Morocco, and each drop of oil is the result of hours of skilled, manual work – harvesting, cracking the hard nuts, and pressing the precious kernels. It takes around 40 kilograms of fruit and up to 20 hours to produce just one litre. Add to this the oil’s global demand and the fact that it supports local women’s cooperatives, and it’s easy to see why argan oil is often called “liquid gold.”

The making of argan oil is a meticulous, multi-step craft. First, the argan fruit is collected and sun-dried until the outer fleshy husk can be removed. Beneath lies a hard inner shell, which is cracked open by hand to reveal the small, precious kernels within. These kernels are then either gently roasted (for culinary oil) or left raw (for cosmetic oil), before being slowly cold-pressed to release the golden oil. Each stage, from husk to kernel to oil, is carried out with care, yielding a product as rare as it is exquisite.

As we approached Essaouira it was warm but misty, we had a photo stop at the The best panoramic viewpoint overlooking Essaouira known locally as the “Panorama d’Essaouira” or “Belvédère d’Essaouira,”. It’s found on a hill along the N1 road just a few kilometres outside the city. This popular stop offers sweeping views of the medina, the historic ramparts, and the Atlantic coastline, making it a favourite for travellers and tour groups arriving from Marrakech. While it doesn’t have an official monument or sign, simply asking for the panoramic viewpoint or “belvédère” will lead you to this breath-taking vantage point for that iconic first glimpse of Essaouira from above.

In the mid-19th century, Essaouira’s bastions faced the thunder of European warships, most notably during the French bombardment of 1844, when cannons like this one stood ready to defend the city from attack. Today, as I framed my photograph down the length of an old gun barrel, fishing boats dotted the distant sea – peaceful silhouettes where once hostile ships might have loomed. The contrast between the tranquil life of fishermen and the city’s dramatic, war-torn past is a vivid reminder of Essaouira’s enduring spirit.

Disappointed by the lack of decent guidebooks on Essaouira, I took matters into my own hands and had crafted a personal guide, brimming with must-see locations – each chosen for its history, culinary allure, photogenic charm, or simply as a window into daily Moroccan life. My list included the windswept Skala de la Ville, its cannons overlooking the Atlantic just a ten-minute stroll from Riad Malaika; the lively Moulay Hassan Square, perfect for people-watching and only five minutes away; and the bustling fish market, a sensory feast less than fifteen minutes on foot. With dinner reserved for 21:00 at Butterfly Space, a vibrant local restaurant at 16 rue Laalouj just around the corner from my riad, I set out to explore Essaouira’s treasures, each step promising a new story and a deeper connection to this enchanting coastal city.

Essaouira’s port is the city’s beating heart – a place where centuries of maritime history, multicultural exchange, and daily life converge. From dawn, fishermen haul in their catch of sardines, red prawns, and lobster, while the air fills with the irresistible aroma of street food: fish grilled over charcoal and seasoned with chermoula, served simply with cumin and harissa. The port’s bustling fish market is a sensory feast, where locals and visitors gather at communal tables to share the freshest seafood, echoing the city’s tradition of breaking bread together, something Amanda and I did the following day.

Beyond the port, Essaouira’s medina and markets are alive with colour and energy. Vendors in the souks offer everything from msemen (flaky flatbread) and sweet chebakia to fragrant spices and hand-carved thuya woodwork. Bab Marrakech’s market square is a hub for street food – grilled brochettes, merguez sausages, and spongy baghrir pancakes – while the artisan quarters overflow with textiles, ceramics, and silver jewellery. These markets are more than places to shop; they are living museums of Essaouira’s cultural blend, where Berber, Jewish, Arab, and European influences meet in every bite and every bargain.

The port’s significance reaches far beyond commerce. Its blue boats, built with traditional Berber techniques, are iconic symbols of the city, and its ramparts – lined with cannons bearing Spanish and Dutch crests – speak of a dramatic past. Today, the port and its markets remain the soul of Essaouira, a crossroads where the rhythms of the sea, the sizzle of street food, and the vibrant pulse of local life come together in a uniquely Moroccan harmony.

The medina of Essaouira is a living symphony, its winding blue-and-white lanes alive with the pulse of daily life. I wandered through this enchanting maze, eager to capture its every nuance – the salt-laden sea breeze mingling with the scent of spices, the laughter of children darting between market stalls, and the hypnotic rhythm of artisans shaping thuya wood into treasures. I paused to watch street vendors expertly ladle batter onto hot plates, conjuring up golden baghrir pancakes, their honeycomb surfaces glistening in the afternoon light. Every corner offered a new vignette: a fisherman mending his nets, a weaver at her loom, the gentle hum of conversation beneath the ancient ramparts.

Respectful of local traditions, I moved quietly, letting the city’s soul seep into my own. As the sun dipped lower, painting the medina in warm, golden tones, I felt my feet ache and my hunger grow insistent. Drawn by the promise of a good meal and the comforting glow of Butterfly Space just around the corner, I made my way through the bustling streets. Though it was only 19:00, I was ravenous—ready to feast not just on the food, but on the magic and spirit of Essaouira itself, a city that sings in every stone, every scent, and every smile..

Thinking about the days ahead, my mind danced with possibilities – Essaouira’s reputation for culinary delight had already set my expectations soaring. Butterfly Space welcomed my spontaneous change of plans with effortless grace, and soon I found myself at a table, anticipation building. My meal began with a goat cheese and honey salad that arrived with the grandeur of a main course.

The plate was a vibrant canvas: crisp lettuce and ribbons of red cabbage mingled with juicy slices of pear, each bite crowned with creamy, tangy goat cheese and drizzled with golden honey. Scattered throughout were bursts of sharp-sweet raspberry and a generous sprinkling of toasted nuts, adding both crunch and complexity. Every forkful was a revelation – fresh, harmonious, and utterly satisfying. In that moment, I knew without doubt: Essaouira had worked its magic once again, serving up the best salad I have ever tasted!

The main course I chose was a fillet of John Dory – delicate in flavour and simply presented – accompanied by a colourful array of vegetables and a generous portion of potatoes, cut finer than classic fries and served in a charming chip basket. As a devoted fish lover who often cooks it at home, I noticed the fillet was just a touch overdone for my preference, though it remained thoroughly pleasant. Perhaps I’m being overly particular; at the equivalent of just £13, it was exceptional value for such a prized fish. Out of curiosity, I later researched John Dory prices in the UK and found that a dish like this would easily cost more than two and typically over three times as much at most reputable restaurants. All in all, it was a memorable meal—one that spoke to the honest, unpretentious charm of Essaouira’s dining scene.

As I wandered back to Riad Malaika, the gentle evening breeze carried with it the echoes of the past two days – though time seemed to blur, stretching with the richness of each experience. My mind drifted through sunlit alleyways, the laughter in the medina, the sizzle of street food, and the salt tang of the Atlantic air. I found myself replaying the warmth of every encounter: the genuine smiles, the easy generosity, and the infectious good humour of the Moroccan people in Essaouira. Had it really been just two days? It felt as if I had stepped into a story that had always been waiting for me, woven from kindness, colour, and the timeless rhythm of the city by the sea.

…………………………..Until next time…………………l8ers………………..

Earthquakes, Amazigh and Souks – An Adventure in Morocco (Day 1)

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It was the dawn of January 2025, and a restless energy stirred within me. Work had been exhilarating -truly rewarding – but the relentless pace of the past few months left my mind yearning for a change of scenery. I count myself incredibly fortunate to have a family who not only understands my passions but celebrates them. As a gesture of gratitude, they gift me an annual passport to adventure: a chance to slip away on my own and immerse myself in new cultures and flavours. This cherished tradition began in 2013 with a soul-stirring journey to Puglia, and each year since, it has become my way to recharge, reflect, and rediscover the world – and myself.

In the early hours of September 8, 2023, the tranquil mountain communities near Dar Tassa were shaken to their core by Morocco’s most powerful earthquake in over a century. Centered in Al-Haouz province, this magnitude 6.9 quake unleashed violent tremors that tore through the High Atlas, toppling centuries-old homes and flattening entire villages nestled along rugged slopes.

The devastation was profound: roads became impassable, isolating survivors and delaying the arrival of aid, while families – many of whom depended on livestock and small-scale tourism, were left to sift through rubble in search of loved ones and remnants of their lives. In these remote valleys, where poverty and resilience intertwine, the earthquake’s scars run deep, marking a tragedy that will shape the region’s future for generations. There were at least 30 deaths in the village of Tassaouirgane, my 1st stop on my next food and culture trip.

I usually take great pride in crafting my own journey – my last adventure to Venice was a labour of love that unfolded over more than a year of meticulous planning. This time, however, I didn’t have the luxury of endless months; I was determined to set out in May or June. After hours of scouring the internet, a handful of enticing options emerged. Morocco had already captured my imagination based on a previous trip, but finding someone I could trust to meet my exacting standards was another matter entirely. I pour not just money, but precious vacation time and anticipation into these escapes, so choosing the right partner was essential. In the end, my decision hinged on responsiveness and intuition – who replied swiftly, and who truly understood what I was seeking?

So Morocco are a small, independent UK registered ‘Moroccan’ Holiday company providing high-quality, private tours of Morocco. Looking through the itineraries I found the kind of ‘vibe’ I was looking for so I quickly fired off an email to see what could be done within my budget, the response was impressive both in speed and content.

By mid January the contract was sealed, a few emails, a couple of adjustments and the itinerary was set. I booked my flights to make sure that I could get to Morocco and back, and now had a 5 day two centre trip, with my own driver (actually two), and the continued services of one Amanda (Chef/Guide), and wow, was she something extra extra special as all will become clear. The trip aligned with the end of Eid al-Adha.

Eid al-Adha, the Festival of Sacrifice, is a radiant celebration of faith, compassion, and unity observed by Muslims worldwide. Marking the culmination of the Hajj pilgrimage, it honours Prophet Ibrahim’s devotion and willingness to sacrifice, reminding us of the virtues of selflessness and gratitude. Families gather in joy, sharing festive meals and acts of charity, weaving together tradition and togetherness in a spirit of peace and generosity.

Linda, the owner of So Morocco also has a couple of other Morocco focussed businesses, Walking with Nomads and My Nomadic Kitchen each of their experiences promises a truly unique “off-grid” adventure, either venturing into the Sahara, or new food learning opportunities, from comprehensive showcase meal lessons to quick spice mix demos and snack preparations for your next picnic lunch. Experience the authenticity of Moroccan cooking by preparing meals over hot coals, savouring the flavours in their most natural state. .

The range of options is wonderfully diverse—spanning different locations, budgets, durations, and activities – yet every journey is designed to be sustainable in nature and gentle in its impact. Whether you find yourself living alongside nomadic tribes, learning from rural craftspeople, connecting with remote cooperatives, or engaging with pioneering professionals, environmental conservation remains at the heart of every trip. The impact is multi-layered, nurturing Morocco’s delicate natural heritage with genuine respect and care.

I’d be honoured to introduce you to Haj Brahim our host for the 1st evening, owner of Dar Tassa. The title “Haj” (also spelled “Hajj” or “El-Haj”) in the name Haj Brahim is a mark of deep respect in many Muslim cultures, including Morocco, signifying that Brahim has completed the sacred pilgrimage to Mecca – one of the Five Pillars of Islam and a profound spiritual achievement. Adding “Haj” before a name honours both religious devotion and community esteem.

After the pilgrimage, men are called “Haj” and women “Hajja,” followed by their given name. The name “Brahim” is the Arabic form of Abraham, a revered prophet in Islam, Judaism, and Christianity, symbolizing faith and devotion. Thus, “Haj Brahim” means “Abraham, who has performed the Hajj,” reflecting both spiritual accomplishment and a name rich in tradition. He was a beautiful kind soul that had spent 30 years in the UK, and had a brilliant sense of humour.

Nestled in a tranquil corner of Toubkal National Park, just over an hour from Marrakech, Dar Tassa is an eco-friendly mountain retreat whose name – “The Home of Motherly Love” – captures the warmth and welcome that awaits every guest.

Framed by soaring Atlas peaks and wild, unspoiled nature, this charming guesthouse offers a haven from city life, blending modern comforts with the timeless hospitality of the Berber people. Floor-to-ceiling windows flood the interiors with light and breath-taking mountain views, while the soothing fountain at its heart invites quiet reflection. Whether you seek gentle strolls through the valley, exhilarating alpine adventures, or simply a peaceful terrace to savour traditional Moroccan cuisine, Dar Tassa is a doorway to both relaxation and discover – a place where “marhaba” is not just a greeting, but a way of life.

As we arrived, Haj Brahim greeted us with a warm smile and a gesture steeped in tradition “hleb b tmar” (حليب بالتمر) or “halib bil tmar”- a glass of cool, creamy milk accompanied by plump, sweet dates. This simple offering, cherished by the Amazigh as a symbol of welcome and blessing, was his way of sharing both hospitality and heritage. In that gentle moment, the spirit of the mountains and the generosity of their people were beautifully, deliciously revealed.

I was shown to my room – Studio Toukbal – the finest suite available, boasting a breath-taking view that swept down the valley, a panorama so stunning it felt almost otherworldly. After a delicious lunch – one so memorable I forgot to photograph it in my eagerness for the adventures ahead – I began my afternoon with a captivating demonstration: the art of crafting a unique, traditional bread.

In the High Atlas Mountains, the Amazigh – Morocco’s indigenous Berber people – bake their beloved ‘tanort’ bread in a clay wood-fired oven called a ‘takat’. This rustic flat round loaf, enriched with aromatic fennel seeds, is a hallmark of Amazigh hospitality. The name “Amazigh” means “free people,” and their bread, with its golden crust and fragrant, smoky flavour, beautifully embodies the warmth and enduring spirit of their mountain culture. It was delicious.

Amanda, the extremely gifted New Zealand chef who has called Morocco home for over twenty-three years, welcomed me into the Dar Tassa kitchen in Tassaouirgane with genuine warmth and expertise. Against the backdrop of the Atlas foothills, she showed me how to craft a goat tagine, using her own homemade, organic ras el hanout – a fragrant blend of rose petals and mountain spices.

As the tagine started to simmer, Amanda’s stories of embracing Amazigh traditions and sustainable living mingled with the rich aromas, making the experience a true celebration of Moroccan heritage and her remarkable culinary journey. It was 16:23 when we started the cooking process, placing the Tagine on its stand, known as a majmar (مِجْمَر) which in Moroccan Arabic literally means a brazier or charcoal burner.

As the Tagine simmered gently, filling the air with the promise of rich, layered flavours, Haj Brahim invited us to stroll through the village -a place marked by both the scars of the 2023 earthquake and the resilience of its people. Wandering the quiet paths, we witnessed not only the visible traces of destruction but also the heartfelt efforts to rebuild and restore the community’s spirit. On this poignant afternoon, at the close of the Muslim festival, I hesitated to take lots of photographs, sensing that no image could truly convey the emotional weight of what we experienced. Some moments, I realized, are best preserved in memory, where their true significance quietly endures. The image above vividly reveals the volcanic past, with the distinctive shapes of ancient molten rock visible near the centre at the top.

Bejloud, also known as Boujloud or Bilmawen, is a vibrant Amazigh (Berber) festival celebrated in Morocco after Eid al-Adha. Participants, often young men, dress in the pelts of sheep or goats sacrificed for Eid, don masks or paint their faces, and parade through the streets with music, dance, and playful antics. Sometimes called “Morocco’s Halloween,” Bejloud has roots in pre-Islamic rituals celebrating nature’s cycles and the balance of good and evil. The festival blends theatrical performance, social commentary, and communal blessing, as those in costume interact with the crowd, believed to ward off evil spirits and bring good fortune. Today, Bejloud remains a cherished tradition, uniting communities in joy and connecting them to Morocco’s rich cultural heritage.

As we wandered through Tassaourigane, we were greeted with warmth at every turn – villagers celebrating, children laughing and fleeing the playful ‘men with horns’, and joy filling the streets. Out of respect, I took just one photograph, with our host’s permission, capturing a home that had in some way, only just weathered the 2023 earthquake.

Soon, a local youth leader and his brothers, known to our host, beckoned us in for coffee. We followed them into a simple home with visible cracks, fixed with mortar, where we sat together on a large open terrace soaking in the setting sun behind us, and taking in the genuine hospitality of these humble, kind-hearted people, a memorable experience never to forget.

It was time to carry on the walk, our Tagine was cooking and we still had some places to see. I am going to leave the afternoon in the air, the village of Ouirgane is beautiful, and at the start of the Jebel Toukbal trail, I subsequently discovered a close friend, an artist had stayed there, in the same Dar Tassa in 2009.

Just as we were about to gather around the table and savour our Tagine, a sense of anticipation filled the air. The security cameras flickered to life, revealing lights weaving their way along the path. From the terrace, we glimpsed flashlights bobbing in the darkness, heard voices approaching, and caught the distant, hypnotic beat of a drum. Haj Brahim turned to us with a smile and asked if we would welcome visitors. With eager hearts, we agreed—and in that moment, we were graced with the magic of Bejloud. Before our eyes, the ancient celebration unfolded: vibrant costumes, rhythmic drumming, and spirited dancing transformed the night into a living tapestry of tradition. The hand-beaten drums echoed through the air, drawing us into the heart of Moroccan culture. It was a truly unforgettable experience, a rare and wonderful gift that connected us to the soul of the community.

As our newfound friends melted into the night, their laughter and the distant pulse of Bejloud drums lingering on the breeze, a gentle calm settled over us. It was time to gather and savour the Goat Tagine, which had been quietly simmering since 16:23, its rich aroma weaving through the air like a promise. After five and a half hours, the meat was impossibly tender, yielding at the slightest touch. By the soft glow of evening, the three of us shared the meal in the timeless tradition – no knives or forks, only the crisp, smoky tafernout bread to cradle each fragrant morsel. The food was exquisite, but it was the moment itself – bathed in warmth, tradition, and quiet wonder – that made it truly magical.

……………………………………Until next time…………………………..L8ers

Eating Venice, And Completely Avoiding Crowds 7.

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Sadley, it was my last day in Venice, the week had flown by. I was still working through the itinerary and thoroughly loving a complex mixture of art, architecture, history, culture and the odd bite to eat. Tonight was the pinnacle of the week from a food perspective, but there were still things to see and do.

Like ‘The Fisherman’ an amazing overbearing structure shown in the middle picture above. The artist, Tom Herck is Belgian and has produced some mind blowing, but unconventional public art installations all over the world. This one was really impressive.

Navigating the Grand Canal, watching Venice’s pace of life was intoxicating, the Fish Market, The terrace of the restaurant ‘Bancogiro’ that I had previously eaten in and ‘Chiesa Di San Stae’, my water bus stop for the next point of interest, the church was closed on Fridays!

The museum of the ‘Palazzo Moncenigo’ was absolutely fascinating. A study centre for Textiles, Costumes and Perfumes it is currently showing the very costumes used in the Epic Film Marco Polo, celebrating the 700th anniversary of Marco Polo’s death, on 8 January 1324.

Stunning paintings adorned the walls, they were everywhere, from British royalty to battle scenes the artwork was stunning. The Perfume section gave an insight into the techniques used in producing the various oils and distillates used in the production of early ‘smells’, a large table laden with vessels and bowls provided the chance to sniff some of the ingredients used, very intoxicating.

Cabinets were full of perfume phials, ornate and precious in their own right, they would have been used for dispensing the various eau de cologne onto the wrist or neck.

Some were unbelievable intricate and obviously made by artists with exceptional skills, the perfume section actually made you think how they managed to produce such wonderful ‘works of art’.

There was a largish flat screen tv showing the RAI produced epic, Marco Polo in the main hall. In adjacent rooms, manikins adorned with the most intricate costumes were on display, the work of Enrico Sabbatini, an extremely talented costume designer, born in 1932 he is associated with a significant number of famous films, the costumes were astounding.

Squero Casal dei Servi is a hidden gem, if you manage to get a visit arranged, It’s more of a preservation project, Gondolers, and well hidden, I managed to find it and unfortunately no one was in! Another brilliant project is Row Venice, the website says “Row Venice is a non-profit organization of passionate women and expert vogatrici, Venetian by birth and by choice. We are dedicated to the preservation of the traditional Venetian cultura acquea and at its center, the voga alla veneta, the Venetian style of rowing: standing up, facing forward, native to Venice and made iconic by the gondoliers. Many of us are also athletes and regatanti, racing all season long and devoted to this Venetian sport that’s as old as the city itself.” Your can see them top right, I noticed several showing people how to ‘row the boats’, their HQ was near to my next stop.

Maybe you guessed it, back to see that church with Tintoretto paintings, wow wow wow, they were magnificent. The architecture was stunning, the paintings had so much power, reverence they took my breath away, it was worth coming back to see the resting place of an amazing artist and his works, and it was empty, no people!

Campo dei Mori, with its almost triangular shape is the location of the Statues of the Moors. It is thought these 3 silk merchants came to Venice in 1112 and built the Palazzo Mastelli. There is a fourth statue on the front left of Tintoretto’s house on Rio Della Sense, take a look back at post no.6 and click on the picture to expand it, and you will see the turban headed statue. Time for a bite to eat!

Yet another very carefully chosen restaurant was Ostaria Da Rioba, just around the corner from the Church and Statues, carefully planned for its perfect location next to the canal, I ate inside!

I managed to capture the chefs in their natural habitat, at a table eating their own food before service. This is another one of those ‘gems’ worth travelling to, the food was simple and damn delicious. The home made reginette pasta, the long usually too thick with crinkled edges one, was slightly less rugged, more delicate and definitely home made, the pasta was bathed in a delightful Guinea Fowl Ragu with dried Plums, It was glorious and rich.

Being a fish person mostly, the Tuna was too tempting, done Tataki style with Black Sesame Seeds it was the days special, the Rialto Fish Market was obviously doing its thing, providing the best fresh produce with the restaurants taking advantage, I am glad they did, it was wowzer.

As I have previously said, ALL the restaurants I ate in during my epic visit to Venice where chosen for a reason, they were all outstanding irrespective of cost and rating, they all delivered on value, service, quality of food, menu choices, I had reserved the icing on the cake for the last night, The 2 Michelin star Restaurant GLAM nestled inside the Palazzo Venart Luxury Hotel.

I have been fortunate to eat in another 2* Restaurant, La Table de Franck Putelat in Carcassonne whilst attending The French House Party Cookery School in South West France, twice in fact so I had a benchmark to compare against.

Let’s say it WAS an experience, an epic experience, one that I had not felt before. Don’t go and have the full tasting menu you have eaten lunch, that’s all I can say, there is a LOT of awesome food to tackle.

The dining room is delightful, overlooking a beautiful garden, the restaurant seats a maximum of 30 people, it was very serene with background music at an appropriate level. Sharp dressed staff performed an amazing act all evening, timing the delivery of dishes to each table like a well rehearsed theatre, ensuring everyone had the experience of a lifetime.

It would take me too long to describe each dish, The use of local flowers and herbs, delicate but punchy favours, perfectly matched by the sommeliers wine, beer and tea choice, service was impeccable as you would expect, the ‘experience’ lasted nearly 4 1/2 hours and I could not manage dessert!

Each picture should expand if you select it with your mouse, so you should get a close in view, the artistry was just off the planet, it was truly brilliant.

That was it, job done, I had Eaten Venice and managed to stay clear of crowds, the experience had been mind blowing. Everything had been perfect, planning worked, food, well you have seen the pictures. The Tribute To Music Residenza had been the perfect base, the various trips to museums, churches, important sights had been delightful.

……………………. Until Next Time ………….. L8ers ………………….

Eating Venice, and Definitely Avoiding Crowds 6.

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In the Cannaregio Sestiere there sits an ancient and historic settlement dating back to 1513. The jury is still out over the origin of the word “ghetto”. It is spelled in various different ways in old documents – ghèto, getto, ghetto, geto – but often indicates the place in which Jews were enclosed, first in the Ghetto Nuovo and then in the Ghetto Vecchio, in Venice.

The “tract of land called the getto or the ghetto was the seat of the public foundries where bombards were cast (gettate in Italian)” and so “the place was called el getto because it contained over 12 foundries and bronze was cast there”. The word Ghetto thus appears to come from the name of the island on which the old foundries were situated.

Todays adventure was to start at the Arsenale Water Bus Stop, taking the No.1 to S.Marcuola – Casino, and then a short stroll to the ‘Ghetto” but a detour was included to see a unique bridge, the ‘Ponte Dei Tre Arche’, the only three arch bridge in Venice which was 5 minutes from Campo Di Ghetto Nuovo.

I have to admit the bridge was strangely impressive, I managed to hide the considerable repair work being done behind the structure along the canal, lots of bright orange barriers and netting spoiling the view.

It was very considerate for a ‘working barge’ to be travelling in the right direction, old and new, historic and modern, well the modern was also an interpretation of history, carrying goods the old fashion way with the assistance of an engine! The detour was worth it.

Wandering around I noticed Gam Gam, it was signposted on my home made itinerary, next door to the famous local Italian Jewish restaurant was a well known baker, producing traditional fare, the pastries looked amazing but today I had to be careful as there were two more restaurants booked, more of that later! The bakers is cash only, been family run for years and everything is animal fat free.

I had decided very early on that I loved Venice, much as I love the other places I have visited it has its own unique charm, lots of history and great food (and coffee). The next item on the itinerary was a visit to Madonna dell’Orto via the house of Tintoretto, a very famous Venetian artist who I had never heard of, the story was fascinating as was the history of religion and its various unusual, and unique orders.

The Church of the Madonna dell’Orto is certainly one of the most important monuments of Venice, among the unmissable of the Cannaregio district. The sanctuary was built around 1350 at the behest of the Humiliati congregation, led at the time by friar Tiberio da Parma: the new building was dedicated to God, to the Blessed Virgin and to Saint Christopher, protector of traveler’s.

It’s got quite a few Tintoretto paintings, he is buried there, the paintings are stunning. Ah yes, you read it correctly, the Humiliati, I had to double check that when I read it the first time. An interesting religious order. Approaching the church a lady beckoned, there was a funeral taking place, I left for lunch with plans to return.

The bridge in the top left above is the Ponte Chiodo another unique structure as it’s the entrance to a B&B, £610 for 4 nights in September, canal view with a great breakfast, prices as of June 2024, nice. You will notice the lack of parapet, the only bridge of this type in Venice, the rooms look extremely nice. Walking to the lunchtime venue was a delight as it took me via the Rialto Market, fresh fish galore, and fruit and vegetables looking so vibrant and appealing.

It was interesting to see Grey Mullet (picture next to the blue crabs above), they are a bottom feeder and considered a ‘muddy’ fish, very rarely seen on British menus I believe, the swordfish was sadly majestic, the Monkfish tails separated from their ugly and grimacing heads. I adore fish so despite some carnage, it was so nice to see local fish on sale, fresh as fresh and likely to be cooked and eaten within 24 hours maximum.

Trattoria ‘Antiche Carampane’ is another one of the ‘must do’ restaurants. Every morning, Francesco and Adriano shop the Rialto market for the freshest ingredients. They only serve seasonal offerings from the Venetian lagoon and its surrounds, I sat outside, it was going to be a wonderful lunch. The restaurant has been cooking up a storm since 1983 and is definitely one to book, I did so on the 1st March to guarantee a table.

The fish was the freshest I have ever eaten, the raw platter served with some proper Wasabi with a serious punch, and a Yoghurt and herb ‘dip’, stunning fresh langoustine, prawn, tuna it was all glistening and so so ‘alive’.

The main course was another local fish, cooked perfectly with some vegetables, like a ratatouille. For wine, I ventured to Austria and a Pinot Blanc from Andreas Gsellmann which matched beautiful. The restaurant has a cookery book, I now have a signed cookery book and eaten another smashing meal. Thank-you to everyone at Antiche Carampane for such a delightful and pleasant experience I shall never forget.

The trip back to the hotel for the obligatory relax during the late afternoon enabled some more sights and scenes to be captured, like the fish market building, St. Marks from the Lagoon, that definitely leaning tower and some musicians enticing patrons to part with a significant amount of cash to relax, listen and drink simultaneously.

It was soon time to venture out to the evenings extravaganza at GIO’s, situated in the St.Regis Hotel to the west of St Marks square. I had booked quite a late seating, 21:00, but the advantage of the best table in the house was well worth it, wow.

The tasting menu was beckoning me, with wine flight, let’s see what this chef is capable of.

Oh yes, what a chef. The tasters at the top were Flak and Sunflower Seeds Chips, seriously, they were ridiculously tasty, the fried artichoke was crispy and full of flavour, Raw and Marinated ‘Otregano’ on a fish bone shaped cracker, another tasty morsel.

Dish after dish, the chefs skill was obvious like sweet & sour pheasant in ravioli, a meat take on sardines en saor I had eaten earlier in the week, Charcoal Grilled Octopus, tender and delish, Guinea Fowl Terrine, every plate of food was as good as the previous, the wine pairings equally wonderful.

I can be a restaurants worst nightmare, insomuch as I sometimes ask for details of the menu to be written down, those ‘chefs tasters’ that are never on the menu so I can remember them later. GIO’s were wonderful and so accommodating, adding the wine choices and also getting the signature of the Chef, Sommelier etc. such a lovely personal touch.

Like all the restaurants I had eaten in so far GIO’s had delivered in its own unique way, service was delightful, food was stunning, wine pairings perfectly matched the food.

Wandering back past St Marks Square I took the chance to enjoy the peace, lack of people and stunning architecture. I think Venice shows its true beauty at night.

…………….. Until Next Time …………. L8ers ………………

Eating Venice, And Generally Avoiding Crowds 5.

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I had one of those queue busting tickets for the Palazzo Ducale, the Doge’s Palace, I had visited before a few years back, a distant memory it rained that day but for some reason it hadn’t stuck in my mind like other memories do.

The legend of sotoportego dei Preti is worth spending a few minutes trying to Iocate, its story romantic and haunting. I read the story, wandered and found the famous ‘stone’.

Wednesday fulfilled some of the wishes that Tuesday did not deliver. Wandering though the streets and alleyways the planning was working well, the first major stop was to be The Basilica dei Santi Giovanni e Paulo, where 25 of Venices Doges are buried.

But before that, a small sojourn to another famous, and food related destination, Cafe Rosa Salva, in existence since 1879 and 4 different locations to choose from, the one I had a snack stop at was right next to the Basilica, perfecto.

Delicious coffee and delightfully patisserie the coffee did its stuff and the cake was a delicious energy booster, as usual, the pigeons and seagulls were in full swing, eying their targets with precision, the customer behind me lost his croissant in seconds, it was sadly amusing.

The Basilica is nothing short of stunning, I was really taken aback by the atmosphere, reverence and majesty of what is an absolutely massive structure. By the way, Venice does have quite a few public toilets and freshwater fountains where you can fill you water bottles safely, for free, The toilets have a small charge. Download the app WC Venice and you will never be caught short.

It was around 10:00, the Basilica was open and very empty, just how I prefer things. I spent at least 45 minutes to 1 hour wandering around, looking at the paintings, architecture and finally, an original and old, Doges chair. It was a memorable visit, I managed to get lots of pictures and the website linked above in the text will take you to the official site with lots more information available, the Basilica is also on Instagram!

Wandering through the streets opened the eyes to such wonderful, and eye catching views, the villa above left, 3 sides surrounded by water, also the location of a famous film scene. Gondoliers were carrying partners, loved ones and those who were maybe to ask that special question, whilst gently navigating the canals of such a romantic and legendary city.

Who needs a crowded and fully booked DFS department store when you can have Scala Contarini
del Bovolo, quiet, and with some magnificent views over the city, all for €8 and booking is not required if you pick a quiet time to visit, I was there at 11:45. It was stunning, the architecture interesting, I was starting to notice strengthening bars on many of the buildings to help stabilise them, like in the middle picture above.

It was that time again, lunchtime and a special treat was in store. Enoteca Al Volto has been serving traditional Venetian food for years, since 1936, local dishes some might consider challenging due to their simple, and unusual flavours and textures. Cicchetti (small snacks on bread) and Ombre (small glasses of wine) feature heavily as well as traditional dishes such as Sarde in Saor with Polenta, my chosen starter and a must have, Spaghetti Vongole (clams), served simply with some bread, both dishes were delicious, a ‘must do’ stop to experience a tradition going back for years.

After a later than usual lunch, back to the hotel for some rest before the next food experience after a short trip down the Granda Canal. There are many palaces lining the canal, the one above is most catching, with mosaics of Murano glass applied in 1886. Palazzo Barbarigo has some interesting history, the hyperlink will help you learn more.

Osteria Bancogiro was going to prove to be another brilliant choice, located close to the Rialto Bridge and market it has a terrace overlooking the Grand Canal, which, when the weather is not too windy, or its not tipping with rain is a perfect spot for some excellent food. It was windy so I was led to an upstairs cavernous dinning area, which soon filled to the brim, obviously popular.

Osteria Bancogiro has a great selection of wines, I opted for a Dalle Ore Chardonnay, which was just delicious, reading their website “In order to retain the specific features of the land, which makes all of these wines unique, no chemical fertilizers, herbicides or insecticides (which can damage the micro flora and the aquifers and indiscriminately eliminate beneficial insects) are used.” It’s a RAW wine, biodynamic, organic and damn tasty.

The dishes I went for were the Seared Scallops in Rhubarb Cevice, and Bigoli in lobster sauce with black fish eggs and zucchini sauce. Bigoli is a thicker kind of spaghetti shaped pasta, I had eaten this before last year in Sienna and really enjoyed its slightly chewy texture.

The meal was awesome, staff engaging, polite and not over fussy it was a beautiful and lovely end to the day. Chefs Jacopo Capponi, Jacopo Zamboni and Andrea Masutti and all the team back of house did a brilliant job with the food, the owners Davide, Gianluca and Mauro are running a great place to have some Venetian inspired delights with a twist, fresh and delicious. Graci Mille.

The trip back to the hotel was as usual delightful, the weather was warm, but not hot, the lights sparkled on the Grand Canal, the Palazzo’s lit up in glorious splendour. The hotel welcomed me back to enjoy a comfortable nights sleep.

I didn’t visit the Doges Palace, it was way too busy!

……………………… Until Next Time ……………… L8ers ………………..