Moroccan chicken with orange
Updated: Sep 11
This Moroccan chicken with orange comes from the High Atlas. In addition to chicken, it's brimming with healthy vegetables such as onions, celery, peppers, carrots, tomatoes and butternut squash, all swathed in a sauce flavoured by smoky harissa and ras el hanout balanced with tangy orange. Though easy to cook, it's a slow-cooked oven dish. And, yes, there are easy vegan options without losing flavour...
Point to it in the Atlas
Years ago, on a trip to Morocco, visiting Marrakech and the Atlas Mountains, I came across this dish of chicken with orange—and a whole lot of other ingredients besides—high up in the mountains. I had got very lucky. A friend recommended a small independent hotel that turned out to be excellent. Run by a Moroccan woman and her French husband, it was an idyllic place with only about 15 guest rooms and sweeping views. The kitchen was run by a small team of local Berber women who were excellent chefs. The whole place, from the décor to the restaurant, was based on providing opportunities to local people, one of the reasons I wanted to stay there.
Fadila, one of the owners, explained to me on arrival that the whole ethos of the place was based on encouraging the employees see themselves as part of the community, and not merely workers, to treat guests as they would guests in their own homes, not merely tourists. As a result the whole place had a relaxed, welcoming atmosphere; a place where the staff would joke and have conversations with guests, not merely offer service. I'm not sure it was to everyone's taste. A well-heeled Brazilian couple seemed irritated by the informality of the staff. They were clearly used to five-star treatment—something they wanted everyone to know since they never stopped loudly banging on in English about the luxurious place where they had been staying in Marrakech—and were unnecessarily rude to staff who had done nothing other than failed to fawn.
One the second day, it really got to me, their moaning about the afternoon service on the terrace. I couldn't help myself. "I'm guessing you didn't grow up with staff...?" I said haughtily to the bling Brazilians. Then I lent in with the biggest smile and stage-whispered, "I know it can be a trial. But the trick is to treat them as one would one's relatives. That's what Old Money knows. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."
"...they decided to achieve their dream project and designed and built the hotel, combining modernity with traditional Berber aesthetics and building techniques."
Shocked (and, no doubt, pissed off), they suddenly needed to head off to the plunge pool on the distant terrace. An elderly American woman called Jenny, who was travelling alone, immediately sent over a cocktail. Fadila, who had witnessed the interchange was also smiling, but a proprietress of immaculate professionalism, she never mentioned it. However, I think she may have spoken to her team because for the week we were there—I immediately invited Jenny to join me at dinner that evening and she and I became the in-house odd couple, dining together and exploring the beautiful local surrounds—the staff always gave us "access all areas".
Jenny was also a great food enthusiast. Having had an amazing meal of lamb the night before, we asked the the head chef, a bigger-than-life woman called Thanina, if she could show us a few tricks in her kitchen. She was more than happy to oblige. And that's where we learned this recipe.
That evening when we had it for supper, Jenny jokingly said to the guests at the table beside us, "Oh, but we know how to cook it. The head chef taught us!" I do hope we didn't overload Thanina and her team with too much extra work because the next day there was a continual trickle of people gravitating towards the kitchen to learn from her.
Open kitchen
I suspect Thanina was used to it. One of the most striking things about the place was the design. I later learned from Fadila that she and her husband Giles had met while working as architects in Paris. After Fadila inherited the land, they decided to achieve their dream project and designed and built the hotel, combining modernity with traditional Berber aesthetics and building techniques. The whole place had an inside-outside approach and one of the lovely features of this was that the kitchen, with good access to both the indoor dining room and the dining terrace. It became a large open kitchen simply by pushing back a series of wooden folding doors commissioned from local artisans.
"...there were no suitably insured drivers prepared to make the perilous journey up through the mountains in the dark. They were stranded."
It was fairly warm when we were there, so Thanina and her chefs would let the breeze in, pushing all the doors back and effectively cooking outdoors. One of the fondest memories I have of the place is of sitting on the terrace, chatting with Jenny about her life in Oregon with the sound of the women singing traditional songs. As they cooked, their voices wafted gently out from the kitchen.
Are the stars out tonight...?
A conversation that Jenny and I had with Fadila and Giles towards the end of our stay over a relaxed after-dinner nightcap, staring up at a sky full of stars, wrapped in Berber blankets against the night chill, revealed a lot about the philosophy of the kitchen. Fadila explained that, being in a fairly isolated spot, they knew that where they were building, they would need to operate on a full-board basis. While it was possible—and encouraged—that people try places in the nearby village or go for lunch at other good restaurants in the region when heading out to see local places of interest, the tricky mountain roads without lighting made it difficult, even dangerous, to get back from a long, languid supper elsewhere.
At that point, Fadila, clocked me grinning impishly. She may have even let down her immaculate professionalism just for a second. I struggled to keep it contained. Stressed, she blurted out in French, "Je sais ce que vous allez dire!"I burst out laughing. Jenny, who didn't understand French was a bit lost.
Enjoying every minute of it, I said to Jenny, "She knows we've been bitching about the Brazilians. She has eyes everywhere." It had been a nice little bit of gossip two nights earlier. Our favourite glamour couple from São Paulo had insisted on taking a 45-minute ride to a restaurant in a much more upmarket hotel that was more "them", having dismissed the excellent food from Thanina's kitchen. But, when they had tried to get back from their selfie-worthy dinner, they discovered that there were no suitably insured drivers prepared to make the perilous journey up through the mountains in the dark. They were stranded.
"No, Fadila," I said. "You don't know what I'm going to say. What I was going to say is that your neighbours must really regard you highly. I can't think of anywhere in the world where a money-grabbing five-star hotel would give a free room to two idiots just so that their competitor didn't have to put up with their screaming and shouting."
Fadila smiled. "We are a community; this place here. But, some people just don't get what we are doing. They look at the pictures of the architecture and design and jump to conclusions. You will not find the word 'luxury' in one place on our website. Maybe they read the stuff about how all our food comes from local organic producers, how we offer traditional Atlas humble cooking. But some just turn up expecting prétentions culinaires."
That is the circuitous route of getting back to this dish. On the day Thanini and her chefs taught Jenny and I how to cook it, one of the things she was eager to stress was how it was not haute cuisine but that the whole offer of the kitchen was based on local dishes. At times it was vaguely exhausting. Although Thanini spoke English well, her two assistant chefs did not and I was having to mediate from the French for Jenny to understand some of their answers to her barrage of questions. Nonetheless, I did manage to get down notes and have been cooking it ever since then.
Ceci n'est pas un tagine
One of the things I noted immediately was that this dish was not cooked in a tagine, but in a large earthenware pot with a lid, closer to a Western casserole dish. Thanina explained that it was cooked in this kind of dish—or cast iron pots—because, unlike a tagine dish where the aim is to end up with relatively little liquid in the concentrated sauce, here the aim was to end up with more sauce than needed when serving the dish. This excess sauce would traditionally be turned into a soup the next day, flaking in any leftover chicken, adding more water or stock and usually adding additional ingredients such as chick peas, lentils or green vegetables. It is traditionally served as a soup as a lunch or as a hearty meal-soup with flatbreads or crispy fresh baguettes.
She also explained that a "true" tagine is traditionally served with flatbreads, that couscous is usually used for dishes in their own right in Morocco. But this dish was interchangeably served with flatbreads, couscous or other grains because of the more abundant sauce. It would also often be served with little side salads.
Finely ground flaked almonds bring a lovely additional subtle note to the dish, but their main function is as a thickening agent. However, they are not necessary because the dish will naturally thicken as it reduces in the oven because butternut squash (or pumpkin) also helps thicken sauces. Simply cook in the oven for a little longer, which is far preferable to using other thickening agents. So, for anyone with nut allergies, they are not essential to this dish and their absence does not make it any less tasty.
Take note:
This version is for 4 diners, depending on appetite and any side dishes. But, you can easily scale it up for a larger group—as long are you have an ovenproof dish with a lid large enough.
I often make this dish in larger quantities because it stores well in the fridge for a couple of days. While I never freeze cooked chicken on the bone, if you do cook the leftovers soup traditionally made from this dish, it freezes very well.
Please note that the images are indicative because I have cooked it in a slightly smaller quantity to suit the needs of a smaller household.
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Shopping list
for the Moroccan chicken with orange
Enough one-the-bone chicken pieces for 4 diners, thighs or legs; skin-on
2 large red onions (or brown); sliced
2 small yellow bell peppers (or red) diced
2 sticks of celery, roughly sliced
1 medium orange; zested and peeled and broken into segments
3 or 4 carrots; peeled and cut into thick slices
½ a butternut squash (or small firm pumpkin); cubed
1 400g tin chopped tomatoes (or equivalent in very ripe fresh tomatoes)
¾ cup pitted black olives, cut into thick slices
500ml chicken stock (or vegetable stock)
4 cloves of garlic; chopped
2 tspns ras el hanout
2 tbspns smoky harissa paste
3 to 4 tbspns virgin olive oil
A handful of flaked almonds; finely ground (optional; see above)
A generous clutch of fresh flat leaf parsely; chopped
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
for the harissa paste (optional)
2½ tspn coriander seeds
2½ tspn caraway seeds
2½ tspn cumin seeds
2 large dried red chillies (see above)
1 heaped tspn pimentón (smoked paprika)
Approx. 1 tbspn dates; from a pitted and pressed "block" (optional)
a generous clutch of fresh coriander
6 cloves of garlic, chopped
2 tbspns concentrated tomato purée
the juice and zest of 1 fresh lemon
2 chipotle chillies or 1tspn of chipotle paste (optional)
Approx. 125ml olive oil
Side dishes
A salad of chopped rocket, roasted butternut squash and almonds A salad of small plum tomatoes and steamed green beans dressed in minced mint
I'm serving it here with traditional flatbreads and little salads, in the manner the dish was first served to me. The little salads I am serving here are one of chopped rocket (arugula) with butternut squash, marinaded with a mix of pomegranate molasses, minced shallots, orange zest, ras el hanout and salt, and then roasted and cooled, and a few flaked almonds with an olive oil and lemon juice dressing. The other is of fresh tomatoes with cold steamed green beens and a dressing of finely minced mint in vinegar and a smidgen of tahini.
But, it is equally traditional to serve it with couscous if you prefer.
Cooking Method
the harissa paste (if not using store-bought paste)
Make the harissa paste first. Do this before starting the dish or days before and store, sealed in the fridge. You can also freeze it. Defrost fully before using later
Toast the seeds—coriander, cumin and caraway—in a dry pan. When toasted, roughly grind using a pestle and mortar or spice grinder
Soak the dried chillies in a bowl, barely covering with boiling water. Once they've somewhat rehydrated, remove the seeds and break into pieces
Add all of the ingredients and the dates to a mini-chopper or to a bowl and blend using a hand-held blender if easier, until a thick, rough paste. Use a little of the water in which you soaked the chillies to achieve the right consistency. The chipotle is a great addition if you love deeper, smokier flavours. But, as long as you add the pimentón, this smoky note will still come through. Hence the chipotle is optional
the Moroccan chicken with orange
Some hours before you start cooking, season the chicken with a little salt and pepper. Then, using clean fingers, season with the ras el hanout on all sides, specifically rubbing it into the skin. Place in the fridge for the spices to sink in
Heat about three quarters of the olive oil in a large frying pan on a medium heat, and brown your chicken pieces on all sides. Then remove and place to one side
Leaving all of the juices in the pan, reduce to a low-medium heat and add the sliced onions, sautéing for about 2mins before adding the celery and stirring in. Add a dash more olive oil if needed
When the onions start to soften, add the bell pepper and stir in. Sauté until these ingredients have notably softened, but not to the point that the onions have fully browned of caramelised. Add the garlic and stir in, cooking until the aromas are released. Season with a little salt, then remove move from the heat
Pour the remaining olive oil into a deep ovenproof dish with a lid, ensuring it coats the bottom (this will prevent the bottom layer of vegetables from sticking). Spoon in the mixture of onions, celery and bell pepper, spreading it evenly across the bottom of the pot. Layer the chopped tomatoes over them. Gently pour approx. half the stock into the pot without actively mixing the ingredients. Cover and cook in the oven preheated to 160°C for 20mins
Uncover and gently fold in the harissa paste so that it "melts" into the now hot ingredients. Gently layer your chicken pieces on top, skin side up. Zest the orange and sprinkle all of this zest over the top, concentrating it on the chicken skin. Re-cover and return to the oven for 20mins
Uncover and remove the chicken using tongs. Add the carrots, butternut squash and chopped parsley to the pot. Pour in the remaining stock, then gently push these ingredients down so that they are largely submerged in the liquid. Add the chicken pieces back to the pot, skin side up. Re-cover and return to the oven for 30mins
Uncover and turn the chicken over so it's skin side down and gently push it down slightly so that it is half-submerged in the slowly reducing sauce. Re-cover and return to the oven for a further 30mins
Uncover and once again remove the chicken. Gently fold in the ground almonds (if using). Then return the chicken to the pot, skin side up, arranging the segments of orange on the surface and gently sprinkling over the olive slices. Re-cover and return to the oven, for a further 20mins.
When the orange segments are cooked and beginning to flake, return to the oven, uncovered for a 10mins. Remove from the oven, re-cover, and allow to rest for 5mins
Plate and take to take to table with the side dishes of your choice
the leftovers soup (optional)
Leftovers from this dish are traditionally turned into a hearty soup. But, because leftovers are hard to predict—unless you are a particularly ruthless host—exact quantities are not easy to know in advance and you need a little intuition. For example, I am using one third of the dish above left over, which is probably a little generous (or optimistic)
Place the left over sauce from the dish in a saucepan with a lid. Roughly chop using a handheld blender or the old-fashioned method of breaking it up with a masher. I'm using the old-fashioned masher method because I prefer a rougher texture. The handheld blender delivers a smoother soup base. Up to you
Heat on a medium heat simultaneously adding approx. 400ml hot water and stirring in. Bring to. a vigorous simmer for 3mins, then reduce the heat so it simmers gently
Add the additional vegetable ingredients. If using pulses or grains—such as lentils or chickpeas—these should already be cooked before adding. If using fresh green vegetables, such as the chopped green beans I am using, these get added raw.
Simmer for approx. 12 to 15mins; until the flavour is integrated, remembering to re-season with salt to compensate for the dilution
When the soup is at an optimal consistency and flavour, you can eat it as it is as a largely vegetable-based soup. Alternatively flake in any leftover chicken. If you have cooked the main dish optimally, any leftover chicken should be moist and easily flaked with clean fingers. NB: traditionally, the large pieces of skin and any bones are added to the soup to enhance the flavour but removed before serving
Cook until the chicken is heated through. Add a little chopped parsley and black pepper and stir in. Then, after 1min, remove from the heat and rest briefly.
Remove any skin or bones before serving. Serve with flatbreads or fresh baguettes
Alternatives
It is only the chicken and chicken stock that make this dish not vegan. I have often cooked excellent vegan versions using vegetable stock. Instead of adding cubed butternut squash within the main dish, I use cubed firm pumpkin in lieu of it as per the recipe above. I then use large, skin-on slices of butternut squash i.e. one butternut squash cut vertically into quarters, marinated with a mix of pomegranate molasses, minced shallots, orange zest, ras el hanout and salt, and then roast these in a separate pan until cooked. I then introduce these back into the oven dish, cooking skin facing upwards on the top layer at the point the orange segments and sliced olives are introduced in the recipe stages above (stage 9). It is a very good vegan dish.
Similarly, while I have never tried it, I am certain it would be possible to create another tasty vegan version of this dish using Quorn faux chicken fillets, first seasoned with ras el hanout then seared and placed into the oven dish in the later stages of cooking.
I have never tried a pescatarian version of this dish. Somehow the concept of seafood and the High Atlas just seems antithetical to me, despite the prehistoric marine fossils frequently found in the mountains...
For carnivores who don't like chicken, this dish works very well with Moroccan-style lamb meatballs. Fry or roast them separately ensuring they are fully browned on the outside i.e. almost fully cooked. Introduce them as a top layer in the ovenproof dish around the stage the butternut squash and carrots have been cooking for 30mins (stage 8 above). Then follow the recipe as usual.
Pairings
My favourite beverage with this one—with which I am having it here—is a non-traditional take on Moroccan mint tea, basically iced Moroccan mint tea, a nod to local traditions, though I find the local real deal too sweet for this dish.
Morocco is one of the Muslim countries in which the topic of alcohol is complex. Like some other Muslim countries, alcohol is (currently) available to tourists in bars, hotels, restaurants and from designated stores. But, unlike some other Muslim countries, some of the local Berber people in the High Atlas still follow their far older religious beliefs that do not forbid alcohol and, because of the French colonial period, Morocco also has a notable number of people educated in France who follow secular paths, not identifying as religious one way or the other. They do drink alcohol. I don't ask questions, though pay close attention if they talk about it.
The French colonists imported grapes and the tradition of wine to Morocco and the place in which I learned to cook this dish had a policy of showcasing as many Moroccan wines as possible. I should have paid more attention because I have never found them anywhere else, but all I remember was that this dish was paired with red Syrah wines grown around the regions of Meknès and Fès, in keeping with the "as local as possible" ethos. And, indeed they were excellent.
Red would be my overall recommendation for this dish. Despite it being chicken, something to cut through the rich flavours feels right; either something like a lighter pinot noir or even a Shiraz. However, I really cannot be more specific than that because I almost always have this dish with a non-alcoholic beverage of one form or another.
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