Mrka

            “Tariq. Tariq!”

            “Eh?”

            “Aji takul.”

            “Waxxa.”

            It’s just past one in the afternoon; lunch is early today.  As I descend the stairs the aroma of simmering meat and vegetables grows stronger in my nostrils.  “Mrka,” I mumble.   As I enter the dining room I see that the table is already set; four small plates of tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and onions, salted and oiled; a basket of homemade bread, still steaming and wrapped in a well-worn dish towel; and three small bowls of olive oil, each boasting a few leftover bread crumbs that have sunk down to the bottom like the jagged fragments of a tiny ship that became lost and was broken apart upon the sea.  I greet my father with a quick “Salam” and take my customary seat on the far side of the table; just left of where two couch cushions meet.  Shortly thereafter my mother enters from the kitchen carrying a large plate with potatoes, carrots, and beef piled high, forming a sort of mountainous island surrounded by a murky, brown sea of watery, stew-like gravy, the result of a four hour cooking process.  My mother unwraps the bread, tears off sizeable chunks, and doles them out to the family.  My father accepts his piece, says “bismillah”, and pops an especially plump, black olive in his mouth.  I accept my bread, tear off a small portion, and mumble, “mrka.”

            If you plan on spending any considerable amount of time learning how to cook mrka like a Moroccan, I would encourage you to reconsider.  I don’t mean to say that this Moroccan dish isn’t delicious, it is; nor do I believe that you shouldn’t want to learn a new culinary style, you should; it’s just that one need not spend any time at all learning this particular skill.  If you have ever made stew or have ever used a pressure cooker then you are ten tenths of the way to becoming a Moroccan mrka chef.  It really is that simple.

            For those of you who like things in neat, ordered lists, the following steps provide a surefire way of creating a classic mrka dish:

1.      Pick your favorite red meat and vegetables.

2.      Pressure-cook them until they lose all semblance of original texture.

3.      Serve with bread.

That’s it.  Perhaps the incredulous among you don’t believe that capturing the essence of a national dish can be boiled down to three steps, especially when one step involves picking ingredients and another involves serving the meal.  However, I can assure you, as a lifelong consumer of food and current expert on all things Moroccan, that this time-tested method of preparation is sure to have you cooking mrka like the pros in no time.

A final piece of advice: if your vegetables crunch at all during the meal, consider yourself a failure; this is the most obvious sign of an amateur.  If the vegetables put up a brief, futile attempt at resistance against your teeth, take heart, you may yet become a great Moroccan chef.  And if the vegetables put up no fight; if instead they melt away as though they had been pureed and then reformed to look like the vegetables that they once were, then give yourself a well deserved pat on the back, for you have just created the perfect mrka dish.