The Berber Mountain
Omelette
Does lunch taste better when you climb 4,000 metres to get it?
Word and images Natasha Bazika
The Berber Mountain
Omelette
Does lunch taste better when you climb 4,000 metres to get it?
Words Natasha Bazika
Cue six-year-olds zipping by like mountain goats. "They just finished school!" Brahim shouts as they vanish.
They'll be home in an hour. Us? Two more hours to Aroumd, the Amazigh village, dangling somewhere between the base and summit of Mount Toubkal. Does food taste better when you’re made to work for it?
Little blue.
This is how they ride in Morocco, apparently.
About four hours earlier we’d bid adieu to Aït Benhaddou, a cinematic jewel featured on Game of Thrones, and a remarkably intact 11th-century village buried deep in the High Atlas Mountains — a spine that slices diagonally through Morocco, splitting the Sahara’s fiery breath from the Atlantic coast.
"This place isn't exactly on the tourist radar," our guide Brahim Hanaoui, says, "unless you're an avid hiker."
As the bends sharpen and the air grows thinner, we arrive at Imlil—a verdant cliffside village overflowing with walnut and apple trees, cradling the culture of the Berbers.
"This place isn't exactly on the tourist radar," our guide Brahim Hanaoui, says, "unless you're an avid hiker."
Aroumd is lined with apple orchards.
The village exists solely for the Mount Toubkal Trek—a hike spanning two days toward North Africa's apex, set at a lofty 4,000 meters. The initial leg winds along pathways heavy with mule traffic, tracing the contours of rugged valleys to the Neltner Refuge, perched at 3,207 meters, offering a brief respite.
Gazing up at Aroumd.
The sun hangs high in the sky as I cross a bridge crafted from a patchwork of sticks bound together with twine, the crystalline waters from a nearby waterfall shimmering below my feet.
Thirsty, anyone?" Brahim's voice calls out ahead.
Does food taste better when you’re made to work for it?
The Imlil Waterfalls, also known as the best restaurant in town.
Moroccan messages of love.
As we round the bend, the previously muted roar of cascading water unveiled itself in a frothy spectacle. And lo and behold, right next to it, the unlikeliest location for a juice bar, churning out some of the best orange juice I've ever tasted. Juice by waterfalls is a vibe, people.
Nearby, a man busies himself preparing tagines for lunch service.
"This is one of our favourite spots for dining," Brahim mentioned as if describing a food court rather than the great outdoors.
Downtown Aroumd.
But it is not our lunch spot. Ours is still up, and so we march on—soul-crushing stone steps and winding paths, and then finally we are there; Aroumd. An almost deserted village, but those powdered peaks looming behind it? They are something else, as are the views of the valley below, flecked with brown and grey buildings arranged like stacked Lego blocks.
Brahim leads us through the village, a narrow labyrinth of laneways, to Malika's home, where her husband hands us a bowl of milk and dates—a true Berber welcome. "Drink up. It's tradition," he insists, so we do as we are told.
Malika’s brother, who is tea master, pours a mint tea from a theatrically outrageous height which makes me nervous, while Malika, the 'Queen Bread Maker,' appears out of nowhere with ingredients.
A traditional Berber welcoming of dates and milk sipped from a communal bowl.
With Malika as our teacher, we dive into the dough-making process, our hands getting a crash course in Berber bread magic. Before we know it, the kitchen is suffuse with the scent of freshly baked flatbreads, each one sporting a fetching charcoal crust.
But what's freshly baked bread without a feast to accompany it? A parade of clay pots materialise: Chicken, veggies, and the pièce de résistance—the Berber omelette, a veggie-packed all-day meal to rival any French omelette.
Tea-lord doin his thing.
The Berber people have deep roots in North Africa. There’s history to suggest their presence in the region dates back to prehistoric times.
Malika is the queen bread maker in the village.
As we tuck in, Brahim's words about Berber culture bounced around in my head.
“The Berber people have deep roots in North Africa. There’s history to suggest their presence in the region dates back to prehistoric times.
"Only 31% of Morocco's population are Amazigh (Berber)."
Each bite feels like a history lesson wrapped in flavour, reminding us of the Berber legacy that runs deep in North Africa. More tea flows with dessert, a quintessential part of any Moroccan hospitality ritual.
The vibrant Berber omelette that ruined all future omelettes (that's a good thing).
The vibrant Berber omelette that ruined all future omelettes (that's a good thing).
Back to the original question; does food taste better when you’re made to work for it? Impossible to say, as the data has been skewed by warm, Moroccan hospitality and Malika’s incredible Berber omelette. Another study will need to be conducted.
get in the know Unlike the rest of the world, in Morocco the liver is the organ that is associated with love and romance. Cheers to that.
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