Derb 37

Pyramids of turmeric, cumin, paprika, ras el hanout in shades of gold and red and brown. The smell is a wall.

The cumin test: rub it between the fingers. Strong and immediate means fresh. Faint means old. The saffron — real saffron has bright red threads with no yellow.

Ras el hanout means head of the shop. The best blend the merchant makes. Every shop's recipe is different.

The butcher works with a cleaver and a block of wood. The lamb is local. The chops are cut thick.

Cumin, salt, olive oil. On the charcoal until the fat renders and the outside chars. The cumin caramelises and goes nutty.

Bread and a raw tomato-onion salad alongside.

Yellow lentils, curry leaves, cumin seeds popping in hot oil. The smell is completely different from anything else that comes out of this kitchen — coconut oil and turmeric and something sharp from the curry leaves.

The lentils cook down thick and golden. A tempering of fried garlic and cumin goes on top at the end. Works with rice or with bread.

When the pomegranates arrive, the souk changes colour. Red and pink and deep garnet everywhere. The sellers split one open to show the seeds — that's how you tell sweet from sour.

The juice stalls start pressing it fresh. The seeds go over salads, over yoghurt, into tagines at the end for acid.

A few weeks and they're gone.

Salt and lemons and time. The jar sits on the counter for three months. The lemons soften, the rind goes translucent, the salt pulls out the liquid.

After three months — salty, sour, floral, nothing like fresh lemon. A quarter of one transforms a tagine. The pulp gets discarded; it's the rind.

There's always a jar going. One finishes, the next starts.

Before the crowds. Vegetable sellers stacking tomatoes into pyramids, arranging coriander and parsley and mint in bunches. The meat section already working — carcasses hanging, knives being sharpened.

The fish arrives from the coast overnight. Sardines in silver rows. Prawns on ice.

By nine it's busy. By ten it's chaos. At seven it's just the regulars.

The juice stalls make a version with avocado, almonds, milk, argan oil on top. Thick, cold, slightly sweet. More dessert than drink.

The avocados here are enormous. The almond milk is made fresh. The argan oil makes it nutty and rich.

Sometimes this is lunch.

Khlii — dried preserved meat, cooked in fat and spices, stored in jars. Keeps for months. A handful goes into a tagine with tomatoes and eggs cracked on top.

The eggs cook in the sauce, whites setting, yolks soft. The khlii gives the whole thing a deep, almost smoky flavour.

Morning food.