SpiceLines

Zidaine's eyelashes are long and there's a farway, dreamy look in his eyes. His lips are soft too, but when I get too near, he bares broken, discolored teeth at me.

Sidi Kaouki, November 16: Late morning, walking down a grassy path to ride camels on the beach.

Zidaine is the tallest, the one I choose—or did he choose me? The color of sand, with long white legs, he towers above the others. Mounting is easy—he’s sitting down—but when he lurches up, I pitch forward like the greenhorn I am. Saved from spilling over his head only by leaning back and clutching the wooden pommel of his saddle.

To make a camel go, you say, "Arrrrr...." To stop, "Sssshhhh..."

This version of Khadija's fish tagine layers chunks of grouper coated in a pungent spice and herb paste with vegetables, olives and lemon. During cooking aromatic vapors infuse the fish and vegetables with these rich and varied flavors, creating a sublimely savory one-pot dish.

Sidi Kaouki, November 15--Night falls suddenly in Morocco. One moment you’re traipsing along a rocky path, the next it’s so dark you’re stumbling off the edge…

There is no electricity this evening. By day Le Kaouki is a simple beachside inn, bright white stucco with intense blue trim and a shaded terrace that beckons you to lounge awhile with a cold beer, maybe after surfing or a camel ride on the sand.

At night the place becomes more mysterious, with pools of candlelight illuminating shadowy halls and stairs. Now it’s an escapist dream, a quiet refuge from the Blackberry world. In the darkness time slows nearly to a stop; other dimensions float into view. Cocteau’s surreal torcheres adorned with living faces would not be out of place.

I drift down the stairs, following faint laughter and music, into the dining room, past a row of glazed clay tagines, conical tops gleaming in the candlelight, through the door into the kitchen…where Khadija, a young, dark-haired cook, giggling with her friend Raschida, is about to show us how to make a savory fish tagine.

At Abdul's spice stall,you can find uncommon ingredients such as rosebuds, alum and benzoin. The tall cones, made of paper, coated with glue and dusted with ground spices such as cumin, paprika and turmeric, tell passers-by, "Spices are sold here."

Abdul dips his fingers into a bin of juniper berries, then whirls to the cassia bark and the cardamom.

Each time he adds another generous pinch of spice to a round brass plate. Soon it looks like an artist’s palette with electric splotches of red, yellow and green among earthier shades of brown and grey.

He’s assembling the ingredients for m’rozia, a nostril-clearing mix of 16 aromatic spices. When finely ground, m’rozia mutates into one of those mysterious, je ne sais quoi ingredients, an alchemical blend that Khadija used to boost the flavor of the savory fish tagine she made at Sidi Kaouki not two days ago.

Perhaps, as Peggy suggests, it’s Essouira’s version of ras el hanout, the famed Moroccan spice blend that translates as “top of the shop.” Every spice merchant has his own private recipe; Abdul’s includes 45 ingredients, some of which can’t be found in America.

Abdul's ras el hanout--which translates as "top of the shop"--is an exotic blend of mace, long pepper, green cardamom, cassia bark and 41 other spices, including rarities such as dried pomegranate blossoms and ash fruit, said to be an aphrodisiac.

Is there anything more delicious than wrapping presents in a warm kitchen while the first fat snowflakes of the season whirl through the frosty air?

This year I'm giving my favorite cooks--naughty and nice--treasures from the souks of Marrakech. Here's what they'll find under the tree:

Tins of Abdul's aromatic spice blends--and little Moleskine notebooks filled with cooking tips and a recipe or two.

And what's in the tins?

Ras el Hanout: Abdul's super secret blend--it means "top of the shop"--of 45 whole spices, including dried ginger, nutmeg, mace, cassia bark and rosebuds, but also pomegranate blossoms and ash fruit, said to be an aphrodisiac. Bright and sweetly pungent, a generous pinch of this exotic mix intensifies the voluptuous flavor of dishes such as chicken tagine with apricots and almonds--a recipe I hope to share with you soon.

Have the holidays done you in? Invite five of your closest friends over for a Berber omelette simmered in spicy Moroccan tomato sauce. Stir in a little belly dancing and you'll be astounded by a gentle surge of energy...but don't forget the black coffee.

Christmas is so exhausting.

I mean after you’ve wrapped 31 packages for your nearest and dearest, baked 85 ginger snaps for Santa, and replaced all the crimson roses and votive candles for the fourth time—thus winning first prize for Most Beautiful But Utterly Impractical Mantel Décor—then you actually have to get up before noon and open all your own presents….

Not that I’m feeling even one bit Scroogish—certainly not after ripping off the wrappings to find a fabulous Lululemon yoga outfit, a bottle of Basil Hayden single barrel bourbon and a black Jessica Kagan Cushman scrimshaw bracelet that reads, “We’ll always have Paris...”

Did I mention a lifetime supply of gorgeous wooden spoons, including three Japanese rice paddles? Or the Holga camera I've been craving? Or the four magical Berber carpets that zoomed through customs, after being inspected for explosives, just in time for Christmas Eve?

Luckily there’s nothing left to do now but recuperate with a delicious Berber “omelette,” very strong coffee and black olive bread….

Intricately patterned with protective symbols, this Zaiane runner—17 feet long--once hung inside a Berber tent, protecting the weaver’s family from the evil eye with mystical images of scissors, fingers, fish skeletons and diamonds within diamonds. Now it lives in our front hall, capturing only the good chi that flows inside.

All week long the Berber carpets have been flying around the house seeking new ground.

Like Middle Atlas nomads, all four blew in from Morocco with the first snow flurries. They arrived rolled up tight, like the world’s fattest sausage, with thick paper passports stamped: “Security. Explosive Dog.”

And here I thought they were just trailing stardust.

Wanderers at heart, tonight they’ve chosen unexpected places to alight. Already they’re casting spells against the darkness outside.

May the powers of goodness and loving kindness protect us all in 2010.

Do you want to see more rugs? Read on…