Moroccan Chicken Pie: Pastilla... that's Arabic right?

Wrong.

My poor little wife spent a year in Morocco gaining a proficiency in what she thought was Arabic, only to discover that the dialect was actually just Spanish with all of the vowels removed. This is consistent with much of her experience in Morocco, which she thought was fantastic, but which typically leaves me aghast. A typical story ends something like this:

Tam: "... so I kicked away his knife and threatened to tell their mothers on them and they scattered."
Me: "Good Lord!"

or

Tam: "... and it was the best Fourth of July ever. Except we ate watermelon and got bloody diarrhea for 3 months."
Me: "Good Lord!"

or

Tam: "... Yeah! right there in the internet cafe!"
Me: "Good Lord!"

You get the picture.

She keeps threatening to take me there, and I'm sure I'll like it, but she clearly needs to work on her propaganda angle if she plans to do it without drugging me like B.A. Baracus from the popular, if highly predictable TV classic "The A-Team."

One thing that I do like about Morocco is the food, or at least the concept of the food since I've never eaten at any "authentic" Moroccan restaurant. Morocco would also be the perfect location to test my stomach, which has developed either an excellent defense against or a symbiotic relationship with the various parasites that are teeming in our food here in Beirut. And anyways, what better way is there to experience an exciting, exotic locale than a strapping case of dysentery?

Today's dish is called "Pastilla," which probably does not suggest its origins. This is a toughie since phyllo dishes are popular across the Middle East, primarily in the Eastern Med (it was invented by the Greeks), but it contains some characteristics that suggest European origins as well. The name, amusingly enough, means "pill" in Spanish, in reference to the fact that it's typically cooked to look like a big, fatty, aromatic tablet. Depending on where you are in Morocco, you can get this filled with squab, lamb, chicken or even fish, if you dare. Consider it Viagra for your belly.

Note on ingredients: Use flat leaf parsley, not the weird tiny leafed crap they sell in the states. Also, chicken thighs are far better for this than breasts, but if you're one of those assholes who only eats white meat, go right ahead. Golden raisins are best for this, if only because black ones would look like you baked beetles into your pastilla.

Ingredients:
3 tbsp olive oil
1 pound boneless skinless chicken thighs
1 large onion, minced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
2 tbsp cilantro (coriander), chopped
2 tbsp flat leaf parsley, chopped
1/3 cup golden raisins
2 cups water
1 tsp sugar
lemon juice
pepper

Spices (combine together in a bowl to add all at once)
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ginger
1 tsp safflower
1/2 tsp turmeric
1 tbsp flour
1 tbsp salt (more to taste)

The Crust:
8-10 phyllo dough leaves (if you need two to cover the bottom of the dish, make it 10)
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup crushed roasted almonds
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp cinnamon
3 tbsp powdered sugar

Step 1:
Chop an onion and cook it on medium heat in the olive oil for about 10 minutes until it's soft, then add in the chicken and cook on both sides for a a few minutes.

Step 2:
Add in the spices and stir to cover and combine with the oil. The flour will mix with the oil and won't clump when you add the water like it would if you just dumped it in after it was cooking. Add the water, sugar and raisins, then reduce the heat and cover, letting this simmer for 20 minutes. It should make your kitchen smell like you're making oatmeal cookies. Fun fact, cinnamon used to be insanely expensive, but so beloved by rich Romans that they would import it at astronomical costs and either give it out to people to eat at parties, cook with it to excess, or simply burn it in pyres during their tupperware parties or orgies or whatever.

Step 3:
Add in the lemon juice, cilantro, parsley and garlic. Stir and taste after a few minutes, adjusting salt levels as you see fit. Cook uncovered until the mixture thickens a bit (but not too much, you still have to bake it), then shred the chicken with two forks. When it's the proper consistency, turn off the heat and stir in some fresh cracked pepper. You can do this in advance to give the flavors time to meld.

Step 4:
Mix the sugar, crushed almonds and spices in a bowl, then melt the butter in its own bowl for brushing. (You should buy a brush if you don't own one)

Step 5:
Grease a small glass bottomed pan and start layering the phyllo dough. Put down one layer, paint it with melted butter, sprinkle with the sugar/almond/spice mixture, and then add another layer of dough, repeat until you have about 5 or 6 layers. Make sure you leave enough dough hanging over the edges of the pan to fold over your pie to create a top crust (if you screw this up, just add a few extra layers on top after the pie is filled).

Step 6:
Add the filling and fold the dough over the top. Paint the top with butter and sprinkle the remaining sugar/almond/spice mix over it. Finally, cut 4 slits in the top so steam can vent a bit while cooking. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes, checking towards the end to ensure you're not burning it. The top should be toasty brown.

Serve with a nice salad or some vegetable sides. This is rich and heavy, but quite good.