One cold, dreary Saturday afternoon last February, I decided to whip up a batch of harissa. (Isn’t that what you do on the weekend?) Honestly, my motivation was a little less than pure: I was working on some freelance copyediting and, sitting at the dining room table with our empty kitchen out of the corner of my eye, it was impossible to resist the distraction. The recipe I followed was so hands-off that I didn’t get much of a break, but I did gain something much, much more valuable—my very first taste of this spicy Moroccan stable. Now, I know this may be shocking, but the South isn’t known for it’s plethora of North African restaurants, because, believe me, I’m a heat-seeking missile when it comes to trying new foods and I would’ve checked off harissa a long time ago. Yep, call me a regular culinary conquistador.
