Eggs Tafraoute: Oasis, Cumin, Blue Stones, Mountain Lions, and Stone Gazelles

Eggs Tafraoute: Oasis, Cumin, Blue Stones, Mountain Lions, and Stone Gazelles
At the tail end of a grueling overnight trip through Morocco’s Anti-Atlas Mountains, the bus pulled into a dusty transportation hub in Tafroute, a modest-sized settlement catering to western travelers, and serving as a market for those who live even deeper in the mountains.  I had come to explore an oasis on the edge of town and hike the surrounding canyons in search of painted blue rocks and gazelle petroglyphs, two “natural” art features that had tweaked my sense of adventure.  But, just then, all I wanted was breakfast.

After stashing my gear, I found a big bottle of water and a pleasant looking cafe with a view of the surrounding mountains.  The waiter took my plea for fresh orange juice seriously, and offered, “to try”.  He promised a hearty omelet and toast before asking if I had “seen the lion”.  “Seriously”, I questioned him.  I didn’t think there were lions in Morocco, but it is Africa. [Forgive me. I was sleepy].  He laughed and said “No. It’s in the mountain.”  It was then, when I looked very carefully where he was pointing, that I saw the features of a lion’s face in the plunging walls of a mountain on the far side of the valley. I sat there and pondered works of art found in nature, local lore and legend.  Moments later, a tall glass of orange juice appeared before me, and replenished body and soul.

The omelet that came shortly thereafter was a bit greasy (in the Moroccan style), but came liberally doused with cumin.  The combination of oil, thinly cooked egg (well done) and fresh cumin was a revelation.  From that day forward, I’ve always loved cumin on eggs.  It’s not a common flavor combination, but it is divine. And when paired with Morocco’s crusty round loaves of airy bread perfection (khobz) they are a simple and sustaining delight.  And, that day, they fueled me for a long hike through an oasis and desert canyons.

Ultimately, we were successful in our quest.  We found the rocks, and, eventually, the gazelle. But, sadly, we did have a fairly nasty run-in with an overeager rug merchant.  Ahh, well.  It’s Morocco.

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Cop Cachet:  I saw no police whatsoever, and the locals at the cafe were mostly chatting with the owner and not eating.  That said, it, by default, was a “local joint”. In fact, it was likely, “the” local joint.

Mug Meter:  There were no mugs, only juice glasses, silver tea pots, and glasses of mint tea.

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