COUSCOUS FRIDAYS: A TASTE OF HOME

Couscous Fridays were sacred in our household, a tradition carried over from Morocco and faithfully upheld no matter where in the world we happened to be. My mom would start early, meticulously steaming the couscous until each grain was fluffy enough to melt in your mouth. The rich stew, packed with vegetables and tender meat, made the kitchen feel like a small slice of Derb Omar had come to life right in our home.

I remember how excited I’d get when I saw that mound of couscous on our family platter, adorned with carrots, zucchini, and chickpeas. It was more than just a meal—it was the closest thing to home we had. Every bite tasted of spices carefully curated from the labyrinth of shops in Derb Omar, where merchants called out to passersby and the air was thick with the scent of cumin and saffron.

When you sit down to enjoy Couscous, you’re not just experiencing a dish—you’re embracing a weekly family ritual observed throughout Morocco. If you’re far from the motherland, it’s the perfect way to keep that shared heritage alive. Gather around a big plate of couscous, close your eyes, and you can almost feel the pulse of Derb Omar in every spoonful.