Before I came to Morocco, I rarely ate couscous (كسكوس). My mother - ever the adventurous and talented chef - had made it now and then throughout my childhood. But although certainly no picky eater, I had never liked the dish much. At home or in restaurants, it always seemed a bit too mealy, too dry, and too bland to really be enjoyable.
In Morocco, of course, couscous is the national meal. Without fail, the kingdom's entire population eats it every Friday at lunch, by hand or by spoon, at home or in a restaurant. It is a nationwide rite unparalleled in America. (Catholics' fish-only-Fridays comes to mind, but Friday couscous in Morocco is
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