Medha Imam: I got it to go through.
Abir: OK, we're gonna, sorry.
I, like, almost choked on my...
My name's Medha, and today we're here
in the East Village at Nomad to explore
a traditional Moroccan dish called tangia.
Joining me is Moroccan American artist Abir,
who is going to teach me more about
a cuisine that's close to her heart.
Abir: It's delicious, it's flavorful,
and it's probably gonna be the best food you have.
But Moroccan food, for me, when I go home,
it really does, like, refresh me.
And after I eat it I really do feel like,
OK, cool, I could do anything.
Like, what do you want me to do?
You want me to write a song?
Tangia gets its name from this vessel.
It's an urn-like clay pot that was originally used
to preserve butter and olive oil.
Originating from Marrakech,
tangia was nicknamed the "bachelor's stew"
because the dish was predominantly made
by and for Moroccan men,
mainly unmarried workers, soldiers,
and shepherds who traveled far from home.
Now tangia is served in restaurants and food stalls
around the city, with many people
playing a role in making the dish.
But don't get it confused with
the well-known Moroccan tagine.
Tangia and tagine are very different dishes.
The one commonality between the two
is that they both get their names
from the pots they're cooked in.
Mehenni Zebentout: If you say tangia, you're referring to
a jar and not a plate with a dome on top.
And people try not to go for it,
because they have to wait five hours.
Abir: Tagine or tangia, it is a slow-cooked meal,
and it takes five to six hours
to get the, like, soft meat and just the right stew.
Medha: Traditionally, a group of friends pitch in
to buy the necessary ingredients for tangia from a butcher,
which include a preferred cut of meat
along with various herbs and spices.
Mehenni: You basically put in that dish
most of the spices that are
fundamental to Moroccan cuisine.
But mainly preserved lemons, garlic,
cumin, ghee, olive oil, saffron.
It's like, those ingredients are known for tangia.
You cannot put potatoes and call it tangia.
Medha: When all of the ingredients are placed into
the clay pot, the chef takes the tangia
and wraps the top with parchment paper.
Abir: And then you pretty much, like, haul it over
to a man with an oven, we call it faran.
It'll sit there for five to six hours
under ash, like, underground, cook, slow-cook.
And then when it's ready, you'll pick it up,
go to the park, eat it with your family.
And it really just brings, like, a sense of community.
You eat it together.
And it's just relaxing end-of-the-week things.
Medha: In Marrakech, these communal ovens
are adjacent to hammams, which are Turkish or Moorish baths
that most Moroccans visit at least once a week.
The same fire that heats water in the bathhouse
is used to slow-cook the tangia.
So, it's not unusual to turn up to a steam room
with a pot full of meat.
Inside, the oven operator, or farnatchi,
may be responsible for watching over
dozens of tangia nestled into the ashes at once.
Mehenni: So, and you give it to them,
and they put it inside.
So you find, like, 30 tangia sometimes,
40 tangias in there.
And all of them, like, named.
They know, the guy who makes them,
he knows which one is what.
And everybody's waiting and rubbing their hands,
waiting for that deliciousness.
Medha: At Nomad, Mehenni makes his tangia with goat
and uses a wood oven to slowly heat up the clay pot
until the meat is tender and falling apart.
When the stew is ready, friends enjoy the tangia
with a side of bread or couscous
and end the meal with Moroccan mint tea.
Oh!
[laughing]
Abir: How does it taste?
Medha: Oh, my God, that is so good.
It's, like, tangy,
and you can feel the smokiness of just the meat itself
because it's been in that oven for so long.
You have to try it. Abir: OK. All right.
[laughing]
So good!
All the spices are very familiar.
Preserved lemon really, like, adds a different taste.
That's probably what feels a bit foreign.
Medha: Yeah, yeah.
Abir: All right, so you're just gonna grab it,
and you're just gonna suck right through the middle,
and all of that goodness is gonna come right out.
Medha: OK.
[slurping]
I don't think I'm doing it right.
Abir: Girl, you're gonna snap.
You gotta, like, really go for it.
Commit.
No?
OK.
Medha: Mm.
Abir: Yeah?
Medha: It's so fatty.
Abir: It's really good, right?
Medha: Oh, my God, that was so good.
Abir: Well, with a meal like this,
you would have atay, which is Moroccan mint tea.
And I used "mint" as the title of my EP
because, for me, growing up in Morocco
and even just here in the States with my parents,
every time there's tea, there's tea.
There is actual gossip happening.
So let's have a little teatime.
Medha: OK.
Abir: I wanna know what you thought
about this meal in particular.
Medha: I really think one thing that really stood out
the most out of this dish specifically
was the preserved lemon.
That's something that I've never had within
the dishes that I eat, because in my culture
we have this dish called nihari,
and it's very similar in terms of
it takes, like, eight hours to stew.
Abir: That's one of my favorites.
Medha: Yeah? Yeah!
And it's like, the only difference, I swear,
is just the lemony flavor.
It's amazing how a lot of our foods mesh
and taste the same in ways
but also have their own little kick to it.
Abir: Yeah, you know, Moroccan food, I'm telling you,
it's really, really up there.
For us, like, Moroccans in general,
it really brings you together.
And food, if you can find food that brings you together,
it's probably the best food to eat.