Customers of my cooking classes always tell me they do not need dinner after the lunch we make together. “Hm, they are not exaggerating,” I thought to myself as we could barely walk stuffed to the rim with the delicious Moroccan food we cooked at the Zeynep’s house in Fez. Dinner was out of the question if it was possible at all in the Fez medina presenting edible opportunities at every corner.
All right, maybe just a small dinner. A bowl of soup can do. I remembered how after my morning walk I passed by a tiniest shop with the tall dark wooden doors wide open to let in the line of the men waiting for the bowls of piping hot bessara, Moroccan broad bean soup.
