The Kasbah Chronicles May/June 2025; Kitty Morse

The Kasbah Chronicles/FREE, May/June 2025/Kitty Morse/My Morocco/Goodbye to Dar Zitoun and to my faithful roll top desk. Moroccan rugs anyone? Exploring North San Diego County, my back yard.

Musings:

Orange blossoms for sale at the Fez souk.

You will find a recipe for this exquisite orange blossom jam, a specialty of the Sephardic Jews of Tetouan, in my book, The Scent of Orange Blossoms: Sephardic Cuisine from Morocco.

Thank you for those who have donated to my Substack. THE KASBAH CHRONICLES WILL NOW REMAIN FREE

-Goodbye to our riad, Dar Zitoun, the subject of Mint Tea and Minarets

and

-Good bye to my antique roll top desk, my steadfast support over four decades of writing and publishing

Morocco today? Rushing towards the 2030 World Cup

Marrakech: Afflicted with a deadly case of over tourism

Personal Moroccan items for sale, from rugs to cooking implements

North San Diego County restaurants to try

Join me for an Alsatian “goûter” (afternoon tea) in Santa Barbara in July

Recipe: Angel Hair with Zucchini and Walnuts

View from the hills of Vista early in the morning

MUSINGS:

So much has happened since last I communicated with you, I scarcely know where to begin.

After a “hello!” my first goodbye: I may have mentioned in previous Chronicles that it was time to divest of our family riad, Dar Zitoun. The riad’s story needed to be told, and I did just that with Mint Tea and Minarets: A Banquet of Moroccan Memories. My father purchased the Moorish mansion in 1964 and renamed it Dar Zitoun, the house of the olive tree. The largest riad on the bank of the Oum er Rbia in Azemmour had been reduced to a pile of rubble, due to a bombing by the French Navy in the early 1900s (long story). It took my father and his wife 20 years in order to restore the local landmark on one of Morocco’s main rivers to the original la maison du Pacha. They employed artisans from around Morocco to hand-cut zillij mosaic tiles, paint the oversized doors with floral motifs, build hand-painted wooden chests. Among the debris, they discovered a 200-year-old Portuguese stone fountain, and the project gave my father an excuse to scour the Casablanca flea markets for antique artifacts.

Once again, the House of the Pasha became the envy of local authorities, and a coveted destination for architects, historians, and diplomats. But now, the time had come to turn it over to a new owner. Bye bye Dar Zitoun. I hope you remain your authentic self when the other homes around you have been turned into three-story, cliff-hugging b and bs.

from this:

to this:

The second goodbye lies closer to home, in my office to be exact. Today, I am saying goodbye to my antique roll top desk, one I acquired in 1975, when my husband, Owen, was posted to Morocco in the Navy. We lived on the base in Kenitra (ex-Port-Lyautey, site of the American landings during WW2) about one hour north of Rabat.

Outside the base, vendors set up shop to tempt military personnel with everything from grand pianos, to oil paintings, wooden fridges, and “antiques” of all denominations. If you were at Kenitra or Sidi Yahia, you MUST remember the infamous “BRAHIM” antique dealer who travelled around Morocco to recoup items left behind by French colonists. My living room is furnished with some of Brahim’s finds. I once exchanged a used electric frying pan for my china cabinet. A hat tree still stands guard near my doorway, and the dining room hutch is still missing a lock. Never mind.

The roll top is huge. My companion of 50 years now, and the wood cocoon from inside which evolved eleven cookbooks and several unpublished proposals.

“The desk comes from a French bank,” Brahim told me. “Mezian bezzef. Very good. Look at the wood (solid oak.) And the top, it rolls.” He droned on about the desk’s advantages but the antique piece so full of character (and worm holes)had immediately seduced me. I chose to ignore the worm holes. I figured I would treat them once the desk reached US shores but nary a Moroccan worm ever raised its head in Vista. So many dreams, bills, stray pencils and pens, and old sheets of paper filled the six drawers over the course of decades. So did partially used writing tablets from around the world, a Rolodex (remember those??) overflowing with business cards from editors, publishers, acquaintances living (or dead), and anyone who handed me a card. One drawer was deep enough to hold files, each one scratched out and re-labeled several times. Each faded spot, each water ring staining the wood told a story.

I tell the movers of the VeteransThriftStores.com to take good care. “This desk is a hundred years old and has come a long way! I hope it goes to a good home!”

“And you see this big file cabinet that came with the roll top?” asked Brahim when we agreed on a price. “That was in a bank too.” Desk and hutch were a matching couple. I couldn’t split them up. The hutch accompanied the roll top to its American home, and has stood tall—all 8 feet of it, next to me for 50 years. My husband built the A-frame ceiling of my office high enough to house our monolith, as we named it. Its 52 pigeon holes, each one bearing a mysterious inscription in Arabic, look down upon me to this day. The lid of a number of the pigeon holes refuse to close, and stare down at me like gaping mouths. Some, I have filled with old publications, travel brochures, and unpublished proposals—but in which ones? The labels are fading too. One day, I’ll have to clean out and relabel all 52 spaces. I have already told myself that the monolith will stay behind if I decide to leave our Vista Kasbah.

Reflections on my recent trip to MOROCCO:

My trip was short, so I hired a car and driver to take me, my nephew and niece on a short swing around the country, starting in Rabat, the capital, which is preening itself to become the headquarters of the 2030 World Cup. In fact, it is giving in to a building frenzy, like Casablanca and Fez, restoring art deco buildings, destroying others to widen city boulevards.

Dubai or Rabat?

Rabat has is a pleasant city to live in. It is the home of His Majesty King Mohamed VI, and his exquisite palace grounds and the tomb of his grandfather, Mohamed V, of the walled Oudaya Kasbah and its Andalusian gardens with beautiful museum of Berber art. The city is also home to foreign embassies, and a French town with wide boulevards lined with Moorish colonial buildings. The medina, once the most historic in Morocco, with its famed wood artisans and traditional rug vendors, La Rue des Consuls, is now a covered bazaar. Dommage. And, be still my heart—did I really see a 40-story twisted tower shaped like the ones in Dubai. And a new theatre shaped like a flying saucer? A graceful bridge now arches over the Oued Bou Regreg, which we used to ford on wooden planks, holding our noses because of the foul smell. Rabat’s elite can dine in excellent Italian or French restaurants along its banks, and rent condos with river views. Such is progress. My great pleasure in Rabat was reuniting with Mahjoub, the roadside artisan who fashioned tulip lamps out of dried reeds, and at my request, created my reed camel 50 years ago. Mahjoub and his colleagues are housed in a large hangar on the outskirts of town.

Mahjoub and one of his lovely reed tuliplamps.I had mine for forty years.

From Rabat, we headed south to Casablanca, the country’s commercial heart. For me, Casa is just a pit stop at a McDo’s along the beach—with traffic rivaling that of downtown LA. But the building I grew up in still stands, a beacon of Moorish colonial architecture across from the Parc de la Ligue Arabe. Past the oceanfront swimming pools where I used to spend my teenage summers, we rejoined the freeway to Azemmour for my last visit to Dar Zitoun.

The Azemmour ramparts need a coat of paint, and the historic medina has been left to its own devices. Inside the walls, a handful of upgraded riads owned by absentee landlords have rebranded themselves into b and bs. Viewed from the river, the cliff, once coveted for its authentic riads, is now lined with 2 or 3 story “villas” with blind windows facing the darkly troubled waters of the oued.

I was relieved to leave sad memories behind and head to El Jadida and its expansive beach 10 minutes down the road. Once the sale of our riad was finalized at the realtor’s, no longer the co-owner of Dar Zitoun, I was off to Essaouira. This international hub for surfers and artists would not be out of place on the Costa del Sol. The walled medina retains its charm with its narrow streets lined with art galleries. Out of town, sprawling second homes owned by foreign snowbirds, encroach upon the domain of the endemic argan trees, where, if you are lucky, you might catch a staged glimpse of a stubborn goat or two coaxed up the branches by a business minded shepherd.

Then on to Marrakech—what can I say? Avoid the Pink City which is suffering from a terminal case of “over tourism.” Las Vegas came to mind as we drove along wide avenues (how many original buildings were torn down?) lined with multistoried hotels, international restaurant chains, and traffic to rival Casablanca’s. We couldn’t see the iconic Atlas Mountains for the smog, and both my young relatives complained of headaches due to foul air. We were served bad Moroccan food at a recommended restaurant bordering Djema el Fna square. Avoid!

If you do have to spend a night in Marrakech, don’t miss the excursion to at Chez Ali. Chez Ali is celebrating its 30^th year I believe, and following the mission of its founder, it employs residents of disadvantaged areas surrounding Marrakech as cooks, dancers, horsemen, magicians, and entertainers of all sorts. I have been to Chez Ali under numerous iterations, and the latest is excellent. Their couscous is renowned, so is their barbecued lamb mechoui, and for me, the johara, or milk bestila flavored with orange blossom water, a recipe I reproduce in several of my Moroccan cookbooks, is still the most delicious dessert. Get tickets from your guide or your hotel concierge.

At the gates of the Fez palace

Fez, the cultural capital of the country, is also getting ready for the world cup, but at a less frenetic pace. Boulevards in the new town are being realigned, hotels are sprouting hither and yon. The alleys of the millenary medina have been paved, yet the souks still bustle with Fassi shoppers.

Ever try a camel tagine? Buy the meat at the Fez souk.

I stifled a laugh when we came across a busload of Japanese tourists with mint leaves stuffed up their noses in preparation for viewing the leather dyers’ souk from one of the terraces. I found it somewhat sanitized. In Fez, I reconnected with my dear friend and co-author of The Scent of Orange Blossoms” Sephardic Cuisine from Morocco, Danielle Mamane. Of course, as always, we savored a number of Danielle’s specialties on the first night of Passover. Merci chère amie.

I was ready to come home, after this emotional overload.

RUGS and MORE MOROCCAN ARTIFACTS: I have finally sorted through my personal collection of Moroccan items, and I have them ready for viewing and selling. Email me if you would like to have a look or take them home with you!

My new mantra: Stay close to home!

I love traveling to exotic locales. Yet, I live in one of the most diverse counties in the US, from beaches, to mountains, to desert...an area blessed with an ideal Mediterranean climate—I pick oranges, lemons, and avocados from my own trees. I pick passionfruit in December. SO I am exploring my surroundings.

Talks and Presentations:

In the latter part of July, you are invited to an Alsatian afternoon tea at a unique Santa Barbara venue. My presentation on Bitter Sweet will be accompanied by a sampling of my great-grandmother Blanche’s Alsatian pastries and cakes, and perhaps, a sip of champagne or Riesling.

I will send out a separate Chronicles for you to sign up. Stay tuned.

August: Presentation at Hadassah of Poway, CA

October: Panel discussion at the Alliance Française of San Diego

Now, let me list a few of my favorite North San Diego County restaurants.

Chin’s Gourmet, Encinitas, https://chinsgourmet.com (also in Escondido, across the street from the Center for the Arts and El Cajon).

My friend Chin’s opened his very first Chinese restaurant in my backyard, in Vista I was on my way to China at the time, and after a taste of his food, I wrote an article about him for the San Diego paper. Soo thereafter, I was off to Taiwan on a tour, and Chin’s brother acted as my guide around the city’s night market. There, I was overwhelmed by an explosion of new flavors, colors and unfamiliar sounds, and seduced by an oyster omelet of freshly shucked oysters, seasoned with mysterious spices and sprinkled with oyster sauce. I still dream of it. Chin has opened (and closed) a number of restaurants in the county. He has rebranded his eateries as Chin’s Gourmet has just opened in Encinitas next to TJ Maxx. Mark my words, with my friend at the helm, you will have a true “gourmet” experience à la chinoise.

AM Goodness, Vista: amgoodnesscafe.com, I mentioned AM Goodness in a previous post, but I can’t stop spreading the word. This unassuming spot a stone’s throw from the post office in Vista came as a delicious surprise. I have gone back with friends at least once a week. All agree that the grilled salmon salad, shrimp tacos, eggs benedict and tortilla soup are among the best they have tasted. This family run restaurant is only open until 2PM.

Teri Campus of Life, San Marcos, https://www.campusoflife.org, constantly delights. For an astonishingly refined plate (yes!) of home-made biscuits topped with what tasted like a Bearnaise, drive north on Twin Oaks Valley Road in San Marcos, towards Deer Springs road. Just at the bend towards Highway 15, across from the Golden Door Farm Stand, is a short turn off that leads to the Campus of Life, the new campus for the nonprofit TERI organization. The large, farm like compound is comprised of the café, now a local favorite serving brunch on Sat and Sun, as well as musical dinners; a recently opened theatre, a kitchen to train disabled students, a small vegetable farm, and horse therapy stables. On the horizon is an Olympic swimming pool and a cooking school!

A RECIPE:

I love zucchini! I love angel hair pasta! Let’s cook!

Vermicelli with Creamed Zucchini, Carrots and Walnuts

Serves 4

1 pound vermicelli or angel hair pasta

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

1/3 cup prepared pesto

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 large carrot, cleaned and cut into matchsticks

2 medium zucchini, peeled and cut into matchsticks

1 1/2 cups half-and half

1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper or a couple of dashes of Tabasco sauce

1 cup walnut pieces

1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese

Add 1 teaspoon salt to a large pan of salted boiling water. Cook the pasta until "al dente," 6 to 8 minutes. Drain. Transfer to a serving bowl and toss with the pesto. Set aside.

Meanwhile, in a medium skillet, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat. Stir-fry the garlic and carrot until golden, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the zucchini, and stir-fry until limp, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the half-and-half, the rest of the salt and the cayenne pepper (if using). Stir in the Parmesan. Cook until the sauce bubbles, about 3 minutes. Remove from heat, and toss the drained pasta with the sauce. Add the walnut pieces. Serve hot with additional Parmesan on the side.

Adapted from 365 Ways to Cook Vegetarian by Kitty Morse

Nice words: And this is one reason I keep publishing: It doesn’t get much more rewarding than that!

.On Mar 26, 2025, at 11:40 AM,
”Thank you again Kitty! How very kind of you. I love all of your work. You’re the reason why I learned to cook Mediterranean dishes, and the reason why I fell in love with cooking.”
K.D.
Sent from my iPhone

Please contact me via emails with questions or queries. I will answer quickly.

Handwoven Berber blanket or bedspread

Lozenges: Small Antique silk kilim, woven and embroidered

Lower white rug: Large woolen embroidered rug with Berber amblems

That’s it for now! Bismillah and Bon Appétit!