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I arrived in Morocco worried about getting sick. Spoiler alert: I got sick. It was umm…not a good time in my life. That’s all you need to know because I’m dignified and I’m Black and I’m proud. I presume the little lovely tap water-based sauce on the carrots in my “salad” was the culprit. Guess what? I don’t even eat carrots at home. I hate carrots. Who eats carrots? Losers, that’s who. Anyway, I won’t be eating them again. Not here. Naaaah, son. I’m not gonna be able to do it.

I asked for a salad and this is what I got. It was tasty, but those carrots were prepared by Satan.

OMG, my stomach just rumbled the same way it rumbled when I was about to die after eating those carrots. OMG. OMG. OMG. Oh, false alarm. Anyway,  since I’m a little scared to eat some things, I’ve mostly stuck to eating the same items over and over. At the apartment, I enjoy cereal, cereal, cereal, probiotics, vitamin D, cereal, cereal and more cereal.

These are my favorites.
These are my favorites.
One must drink the bottled water or endure a horrendous death by bubble guts.
One must drink the bottled water or endure a horrendous death by bubble guts.

At the office, a gentleman usually gets lunch for us. I normally get tuna with cheese and peppers along with a side of fries. I don’t like to veer from my normal meal request much with him because…

Nikki don't eat "something like a chicken." Nope.
Nikki don’t eat “something like a chicken.” Nope.
IMG_2601
Tuna with peppers (fiflah is peppers in Durija) and fries. It probably would’ve been more ladylike had I not taken a bite before taking the picture.

The first time I cooked a meal on my “make believe” cooking device at the apartment, I was so proud of myself. I didn’t have many seasonings so I did the best I could. I think I made prison food.  I’ve seen enough documentaries to be sure I made a slightly fancier version of what prisoners make in their cells.  Let he or she who is a former (or current) inmate step forward to battle me.

Ingredients. The salt looks like a cleaning product. I had to taste it to make sure it was salt. I miss my Trader Joes's pink Himilyan salt.
The salt (white and blue package) looks like a cleaning product. I had to taste it to make sure it was salt. I miss my Trader Joe’s pink Himalayan salt.
The gas tank on the side must be turned on to bring forth fire. One day, I forgot to close the valve. I had to open the windows and the doors with the quickness.
The blue gas tank must be turned on to bring forth fire. One day, I forgot to close the valve. I had to open the windows and the doors with the quickness.

So..what is that middle eye for?

le peez de resi stahnz (Did I tell you guys that I've been learning a little French too?)
Le peez dey resi stahnz (Oh, you didn’t know I speak French? Mm hmm. Yup.)
This hot sauce is the real deal. My inner spirit was on fiyaaaaaaaaaah.
This hot sauce is the real deal. My inner spirit was on fiyaaaaaaaaaah.
The second time I made it with … wait for it… chicken patties. When you know better, you do better.
The second time I made this dish with … wait for it… little pieces of chicken patties. When you know better, you do better.

Note: Be ye not fooled by my cooking restrictions. I’m a master pretend vegan chef back home.  Check out my Instagram HERE and HERE.

Let’s Talk About Food