I couldn’t leave without spices. Just out of the taxi, in my first seconds on the street, the smell of Marrakesh transported me back to my first trip. And with just an hour before needing to check in for my return flight, I had to bring some of that smell with me.
On my way to and from the souks over the prior days, I had browsed in a few shops around the Bahia Palace. There was metalwork. Rugs and produce. Clothes. But the Herboristeries were a magnet. I had stopped the day prior to take some pictures and chatted with the owner’s family, one of whom had spent time living in Canada. But I returned on Sunday with a mission. I needed to raise my tagine game back at home.
I picked 3 kinds. A 35-spice blend for beef and lamb, a 4-spice blend for fish and chicken, and a curry lemon combination for chicken, like the skewers grilled all over the market. While powders were weighed and bags were prepped, the shop owner brought fresh oranges to share. I said hello to his father, sitting at the side of the shop entryway, and knew I needed to photograph him.
One of the few times on the trip that I asked. He said yes.
This was one of my first and maybe the most authentic.
I took another with his son and then more from the side, a slice of orange in hand. I wanted to keep shooting, but I didn’t want to push my luck. The owner asked me to send him the shots via WhatsApp.
Time was running short. I paid, excited for my culinary gold, and headed for the hotel to meet my taxi.
Back in Paris that night, I texted a few pictures to the number on his business card. They were received but not viewed, even weeks later. I’ll try again.
