homestay

I think if there's one thing I'd do differently about going abroad in college, it's taking more time to find a homestay in Melbourne. For one night in Moulay Idriss, we stayed in an elaborately decorated bed and breakfast with a killer rooftop view, and I was obsessed.

I loved the dining area that was situated below the balcony to my room. I loved the rooms themselves with the double doors and the curtained windows. I didn't love that a donkey hauled all our luggage up the many steps, poor guy, but I did love that some people had donkeys for groceries and such. I loved that we could hear the commotion and celebration of the town breaking fast together from the roof.


Everyone welcomes you with fresh mint tea. Not freshly brewed mint tea... but fresh mint steeped in green tea. And it makes such a difference. I had started fishing the bundle of mint out of the teacup after finishing off the tea and infusing it into my water because hot water with mint in hot weather is a bit more refreshing than just hot water in hot weather.

Every city must have five things:
mosque
Quran school
public fountain
public bath
and of course, the public bakery.

Every morning, the households bring their dough to the public bakery, lining them up for the baker to slip into the wood-burning oven in the back. It's slower during Ramadan, which I guessed was why we were the only ones standing among the loaves of bread in the late afternoon. I was impressed all this bread was just there. Can you imagine if piles of Tartine's country loaf were just stock piled in on public space for people to claim? No because that would require all the residents of SF to bring in their fed and raised sourdough loaves.

After the walking tour through the narrow, cobbled streets of the green city, we were let out at the main square where everyone was picking up fruits for breaking fast later in the evening.

So many new (and itty bitty) varieties of plums and such, but we immediately zoned in on the giant green-skinned figs. And my oh my were the insides so vibrant and pretty. We bought six that we did not eat right away because dinner was incredibly filling.

What I loved most of all at the homestay was that we got to peak into their kitchen as they finished prepping dinner. It was modest and dim because the bottom floor of the apartment had few windows.

I became obsessed with tagines on this trip. Mostly because it's a pretty-sounding word and fun to say with different accents and emphases. But also because you can take it from stove to table without dirtying extra pots and serving dishes.

Breaking fast begins with these fried honey-drenched pastries. And dates. And usually also a chickpea soup.

And sometimes a mixture of sugars and spices that you spoon directly into your mouth. Kind of like how I finish off the extra popcorn seasoning that falls to the bottom of the bowl.

There's always a basket of bread, of course. What culture doesn't have one of those, right? There's always a couple dishes of olives. You could make a decent amount of olive oil with all the olives I ate. There was a fresh cucumber and tomato salad that went nicely with the bread.

Growing up, my dad always liked to scold us if he saw us picking away too much at the pre-dinner snacks [read: fillers]. "Don't fill up on that stuff. The real food isn't even here yet." "Leave some room for the actual dinner." "Stop eating so much bread."
Now that I'm older and have some understanding of delayed gratification (save for if I ever go back to Olive Garden - listen, the move is to fill up on bottomless breadsticks and salad and reheat the pasta meal the next day at breakfast), I try to wait. I try to sample and not eat.
For that night we had a mountainous royal couscous to take down. This was a bed of fluffy steamed couscous underneath an entire chicken and seven types of vegetables cooked in broth and spices. Carrots, courgettes, cabbage, turnips, eggplant, pumpkin, and chickpeas arranged in a teepee.

And honestly if that was all they served, it would've been more than enough. But there was also a tagine with meatballs in tomato sauce and eggs. Which were unfortunately kinda tough after what I imagine was a long while simmering on the stove. So I ate extra couscous with turnips instead.

I flopped into bed with Jeffrey* and the next day at breakfast I was hungry again and a little too excited about these freaking adorable mini tagines holding honey, jam, butter, olive oil, and olives ofc.

But you know how I feel about mini things.

And you know how I feel about mixing and matching my foods. We each got a giant layered semolina crepe to top with jam and butter or oil and honey or honey and butter or oil and olives or butter and olives. This is why carbs are so important.


And then we were off to marvel at Roman ruins in Volubilis.

*Did you really think I wouldn't name my food baby?