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Moroccan Stout Chicken

Moroccan Stout Chicken 6Moroccan food will always feel a bit dangerous to me because I almost died in Morocco. At least that’s how it felt.

A few years ago, after a plane ride, several trains, and a multi-hour bus ride through the back woods of Morocco, I found myself in the middle of the city of Fez with my sister. After a sleepless week filled with a mazed of a walled city, a ride through Middle Atlas with a Moroccan drug dealer, wild monkeys, and dimly lit back rooms in rug factories, it was time to head back to Spain. The night before the long bus ride back to the ferry dock, it made sense to find the bus station, a dry run to see how far of a walk it was, sans backpacks, to give ourselves enough time the next morning.

After a longer than anticipate walk, we found ourselves at the dusty entrance to a dilapidated bus terminal that would be the exit door to a traumatic but eye opening trip. Just before dusk we start to walk back to our hotel, instinctively walking faster as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Trying to remain strong for the other, each of us tried to lighten the mood with jokes and small talk but an old Peugeot hatch back fill with Moroccan men broke all pretense that was possible.

We ran. They followed. Driving onto sidewalks, down alleys, cat calls and Arabic slang floating out the windows. The darkness that had fallen echoed the feeling of panic rising inside me as I tried to remember the route back to the hotel. Just get back to the hotel, inside the doors, just get back. But I was lost. I had no idea where we were, nothing looked familiar.

As we rounded a corner, too small for the little car to make, the four men abandoned their vehicle and began to chase on foot. I turned down the nearest alley, only to see two other men, their backs to us. They had machine guns. We stopped dead, frozen.

As they slowly turned towards us, I could feel our hunters stop as well, a few yards behind us. That moment, which was probably only mere seconds, seemed to last forever. The Peugeot Crew behind us, the Machine Gun Two in front. Either they save us, or they kill is. This either works out fine, or it’s about to get really bad. Frozen, silently begging them to help, willing them to be good.

The Machine Gun Two yelled in Arabic, shooing the men back into their car. The sound of the Peugeot driving away came just seconds later. "We are police. We will help you." A relief, mixed with the reality that we weren’t safe yet, came over me. They knew exactly where our hotel was, just a few blocks away.

As we began the walk back to our temporary sanctuary, the Moroccan cops began a friendly chat that ended with,"You girls are very pretty. Can we show you the town?" Lucky for us, they were gentleman, taking the rejection in stride as they deposited us at the door of our hotel. Kindly waving goodbye as we disappeared inside.

Later that night, after we’d decompressed, we braved the streets for a nearby cafe. A literal hole in the wall that had been carved out a century earlier to include a clay oven that made the most incredible chicken. For just the equivalent of 4 American dollars total, we each had a metal plate with roasted Moroccan chicken and saffron rice. It very well may have been the intensity of the situation, but that was the best damn chicken I’ve ever had. Now Moroccan chicken just tastes incredible, especially when it doesn’t come after seeing machine guns.

Want to know what happened next? Read about what happened on the boat ride out of Morocco. 

Moroccan Stout Chicken


  • 2 tbs olive oil
  • 1 tsp salt
  • 1 tsp black pepper
  • ¼ cup flour plus 2 tbs, divided
  • 6 chicken thighs
  • 2 large shallots chopped
  • 2 cloves garlic minced
  • 1 cup chicken broth
  • 1 cup stout
  • ¼ tsp ground ginger
  • ¼ tsp turmeric
  • pinch cayenne
  • ½ tsp cumin
  • ¼ cup brown sugar
  • 3 tbs lemon juice
  • ½ lb medjool dates pitted (about 12)
  • ¼ cup almonds
  • ¼ cup chopped parsley
  • rice or couscous for serving


  • In a small bowl combine the salt, pepper and ¼ cup flour, set aside.
  • Heat the olive oil in a cast iron skillet until hot by not smoking.
  • Dredge the chicken thighs in the flour mixture, sear in the hot pan until browned on all sides. Remove from pan (the chicken will not be cooked through at this time).
  • Add the shallots, cooking until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic.
  • Stir in the chicken broth, stout, ginger, cayenne, cumin, brown sugar and lemon juice.
  • Return the chicken to the pan, reduce heat to maintain a low simmer. Cover loosely and cook until the chicken is cooked through and registers 160F on a cooking thermometer.
  • Transfer chicken to a serving platter.
  • Sprinkle the remaining 2 tablespoons flour over the sauce, whisking to combine. Add pitted dates.
  • Increase heat to a strong simmer and allow to cook, stirring occasionally until reduced and thickened, about 8 minutes.
  • Serve chicken over rice or couscous with dates and sauce, sprinkled with parsley and almonds.

Moroccan Stout Chicken 5

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Sarah | The Sugar Hit October 1, 2013 um 3:12 am

Oh my goodness! My heart was clenched like a fist as I read that, even though obviously you were fine. Makes me want to ring my sister and invite her over for chicken.


Tieghan October 1, 2013 um 5:19 am

Ah whoa, that is a serious story for an early 6am read! I freaking scary, I can’t even believe. So happy everything turned out ok! Geez!

Love the chicken, I am just starting to experiment with Moroccan food and am loving it! This chicken is next on my list!


ashley – baker by nature October 1, 2013 um 10:07 am

Holy crap, Jackie… what a story!!!! Happy you’re safe and alive, of course 😉

And this chicken looks so amazing! Just what we need to shake up our weeknight dinner routine.


Jen @ Savory Simple October 1, 2013 um 12:49 pm

Cripes, you have some fascinating stories!


Tastesspicy October 2, 2013 um 8:40 am

Holy Cows! I had to go back and re-read what you wrote! At first I was like is this just a story and not real.
Just because of this adventure you took me on I am going to definitly make this recipe!


Jackie October 2, 2013 um 9:43 am

Totally real! So much happened on that trip, every day was a new crazy story.


Anna @ Crunchy Creamy Sweet October 2, 2013 um 9:27 am

Wow, Jackie! What a story!
The chicken looks amazing! Pinning!


Belinda @themoonblushbaker October 2, 2013 um 10:58 am

Gosh I am so glad you are ok after such an adventure! You are so brave jackie
The dish looks delicious, I am making it tonight


Christine October 2, 2013 um 4:51 pm

This recipe looks wonderful! Do you think the taste will be greatly altered if I used a dark gluten free beer?


Jackie October 2, 2013 um 6:35 pm

I’m not sure, I’ve never worked with gluten free beer. Worth a shot!


addie | culicurious October 2, 2013 um 6:10 pm

terrible ordeal – so glad you made it out safely. and this chicken looks tasty too! 🙂


Dam February 2, 2014 um 5:52 am

oh my god I understand how you feel. I have a "I almost died I Morocco" story too…. Long story short, my taxi crashed and the taxi driver abandoned us and ran out of the car as the engine was smoking… I’m glad we both made it out safe!!! 🙂


Jackie February 2, 2014 um 7:41 am

That sounds terrifying! Morocco is a crazy place


Christian Frend February 9, 2014 um 8:52 pm

This is such a great story! I had to read it three times. You are a great writer and I’m still surprised that this actually happened.


Samantha February 9, 2014 um 11:22 pm

I just died reading this! my heart is racing!


Gina @ Running to the Kitchen October 17, 2014 um 7:07 am

Ok wow, your Morocco story is a bit more intense than mine! It’s a scary place though. I was with a blond hair, blue eyed, 5’10 friend (as American as they get looks wise) in the streets trying to find an ATM when we were harassed and followed back to our hotel too. It was right around dusk and we were the only women in the streets. No guns or anything but Arabic bantering and cat calling and intense following. I think it was probably the most fearful for my life I’ve ever been. Looking back on that trip, I can’t believe how stupid we were to do some of the things we did. Young and naive I guess. Scary but beautiful country and great food. I ate camel there for the first and only time not knowing what it was until after and it was one of the best meals of my life.


Anon September 9, 2017 um 10:29 pm

Don’t know why Western women go to places like that. You wouldn’t be the first foreign woman found dead and cut up in a ditch.


Jackie September 11, 2017 um 8:56 am

Because that never happens in America. You can live your life in fear, or you can live your life.


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