Nadia El-Fassi is a half-Moroccan, half-Australian author of spicy romance and fantasy. Best Hex Ever, her debut novel, is a cozy fantasy romance set in London. It's about a kitchen witch cursed to hurt anyone who falls in love with her.
By day, Nadia El-Fassi is a commissioning editor at Orbit Books. She has an addiction to iced coffee, period dramas, buying D&D dice and watching horror movies. Nadia lives in London with her husband and their perfectly round cat.
You could win one of five copies of Best Hex Ever. To enter the drawing send an email to: [email protected] and put BEST HEX EVER on the subject line. Please be sure to include your preferred mailing address!
Reach out to Nadia via: https://www.instagram.com/nadiaelfassiauthor/
The first time I made couscous with my mother I was eleven years old. Cooking the weekly couscous in a Moroccan household--even one that wasn't in Morocco at all but south west London--was a rite of passage. You cooked it on a Friday evening, and it would last until Sunday lunch.
It was just the two of us, and she set up a stool beside the kitchen counter for me to stand on, and we began the hours-long ritual of making couscous. Don't let the store-bought packets fool you, authentic couscous needs to be steamed and then sifted and then steamed and sifted until your kitchen windows are so foggy that you can't tell what time of day it is outside. It is the ritual of the recipe as much as the food itself that matters.
My mother showed me how to sprinkle water onto the couscous before we put it back to cook; how to sift through it with my hands, not too forcefully so I didn't squish or break the grains, but with enough force to remove any clumps. I remember the way my mother held up the reused jam jar that contained saffron strands that we had carried back in our luggage from Morocco earlier that year, and how she explained to me that it was such an expensive spice we had to use it sparingly. I remember that afterwards, the tips of my fingers were stained yellow and I had to rub lemon juice on them over the kitchen sink.
As the couscous steamed, we sliced carrots, onions, turnips and courgettes. Earlier that afternoon we'd bought a leg of lamb from the butchers. The memories of this day are etched into my mind as the last day of the 'before' life. The following day, the results came back from hospital; my mother's cancer had returned. I would still have another eight years with her, and we made many more couscous tagines together, but from then on cancer existed in the background of every memory, a third party at every meal.
Lately, as I approach a decade without my mother, I find myself taking down the jar of saffron strands from my spice cupboard and digging out my steamer from my clutter of pans. I feel the ghost of her hands as we sift the couscous together. Knowing her, she'd probably decide to sit at the table, drink a coffee, and lecture me about my scant use of chilli.
-- Nadia El-Fassi
You could win one of five copies of Best Hex Ever. To enter the drawing send an email to: [email protected] and put BEST HEX EVER on the subject line. Please be sure to include your preferred mailing address!
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Suzanne Beecher
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