Among all the celebrations that mark life in Morocco, Eid al-Adha, also known as the Eid el-Kebir, is undoubtedly the most important. It is a time of spirituality, generosity, and family reunions, where traditions are passed down from generation to generation.
When I think of Eid al-Adha, its my childhood memories that first come to mind. My father had a habit that left a deep impression on me. Each year, a few days before Eid, he would return from the rural souk with two sheep. One was meant for our family, while the other was sacrificed and then entirely distributed to the less fortunate. For him, this celebration only made sense if it was also a time of sharing and solidarity. This generosity profoundly shaped my childhood and continues to inspire the way I welcome others today.
A few days before Eid, the sheep became a part of our daily life. My sisters and I would visit them, bring them water, pet them, and talk to them like real companions. I always ended up getting attached to them. I still remember their final bleats. With a childs perspective, it seemed to me that they sensed what was about to happen. This thought made me feel deeply sad.
On the morning of Eid, I did everything possible to avoid witnessing the sacrifice. I always found a place to hide, unable to watch a scene that unsettled me. Gradually, the house would come alive again. The men prepared the first barbecues, the women busied themselves in the kitchen, neighbors came to offer their greetings, and soon a delightful aroma filled the whole house. It was the scent of Boulfaf, those lamb liver skewers wrapped in a thin piece of fat and grilled over charcoal. Their fragrance was irresistible. Like many children, my sadness quickly faded before the joy of family reunions and the pleasure of sharing this first festive meal.
But what I anticipated most eagerly wasnt just the meal. In our Berber family, Eid was also the day of Takdayrout, a tradition I still hold dear to my heart. My mother bought each of her daughters a small clay tagine accompanied by its own brazier. Just the thought of receiving our new little tagine made us impatient for Eid to arrive.
She would then give us a piece of lamb, some vegetables, a bit of olive oil, and several spices, leaving it to us to do everything like real cooks. Wed start by lighting the fire in our little brazier, a step we were particularly proud of. Then each of us would prepare her tagine according to her inspiration, selecting the vegetables, measuring the spices, monitoring the cooking with great seriousness, and eagerly awaiting the result. Of course, each of us was convinced that she had made the best tagine!
In retrospect, I realize that my mother was teaching us much more than a recipe. She taught us patience, how to tend to the fire, respect for ingredients, the taste for spices, and confidence in our own creativity. The tradition of Takdayrout is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful legacies she has passed on to me. Long before I ever imagined welcoming travelers into my kitchen, she had taught me that cooking is about observation, experimentation, sharing... and above all, cooking with love.
Today, I am aware of how fortunate I was to grow up with such a tradition. It has shaped my perspective on Moroccan cuisine and has undoubtedly sparked, unbeknownst to me at the time, the passion that drives me today.
A deeply spiritual celebration
Beyond my childhood memories, Eid al-Adha is above all a major religious celebration for Muslims. It commemorates the faith and submission of the prophet Ibrahim (Abraham), who was ready to perform the sacrifice requested by God before it was replaced by a ram. This celebration highlights essential values: faith, trust in God, gratitude, self-sacrifice, and sharing with the less fortunate.
The course of the day
The prayer of Eid
From the early hours of the morning, worshipers don their finest clothes and head to the mosque or large open spaces where the Eid prayer is held. After the prayer and sermon, everyone exchanges greetings by saying, Eid Mubarak Said, before returning home to their family.
The family breakfast
The family then gathers around a generous breakfast, which, depending on the region, may include mint tea, homemade bread, msemen, baghrir, honey, argan oil, olive oil, and other Moroccan specialties. It is a moment of calm, joy, and reunion before the preparations begin.
The sacrifice
The sacrifice is then performed in accordance with Islamic rites. Many families enlist an experienced butcher, while relatives participate in the preparation of the meat. In Morocco, this moment is experienced with great respect. It recalls Ibrahims faith and invites each person to meditate on the values of generosity, humility, and solidarity.
The first meal: Boulfaf
The first dish typically enjoyed is Boulfaf. The liver is cut into pieces, wrapped in a thin piece of fat, and grilled over charcoal. Its aroma is inseparable from Eid, and it is often the first taste of the celebration that children eagerly await.
Why wait before cooking the rest of the meat?
A common custom in Morocco is not to immediately prepare the rest of the sheep. After the sacrifice, the meat is left to rest for several hours, often until the next day. This waiting period allows the meat to naturally drain and tenderize. The first lamb tagines, roasts, and other specialties are thus prepared the next day when the meat has developed its full flavor qualities.
In the days that follow, every part of the animal is used according to Moroccan culinary traditions. Nothing is wasted: the best parts are cooked in tagines, mechoui, or grilled dishes, while the offal, feet, head, and other parts find their place in family recipes passed down through generations. This approach demonstrates the deep respect for the animal and the importance of not wasting what it offers.
A celebration of sharing
For several days, families visit each other, exchange dishes, invite relatives, and share some of the meat with neighbors and those in need. Homes remain open, tables abundantly laid out, and everyone is welcomed with a generosity that is part of the Moroccan identity.
Eid al-Adha is much more than a religious celebration. It is a celebration of family, hospitality, transmission, and sharing.
When I cook with my guests today, I often think back to that little girl who hid her tears on Eid morning, only to smile again in front of the first Boulfaf skewers. I also see our little tagines on their braziers, the crackling charcoal, our mothers advice, the knowing looks between my sisters, and our immense pride when our Takdayrout were finally ready.
These memories have taught me that Moroccan cuisine is much more than a collection of ingredients. It is a story of love, family, memory, and transmission. It is this heritage that I am now fortunate enough to share with all those who come to cook alongside me.
Cook. Share. Taste. Live Morocco.