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…………………….
Julian Rolfe 