Harira: Morocco’s Most Beloved Soup—Even If It Might Get Me Deported

My version of Harira

There are few things that unite Moroccans like Harira. This isn’t just soup—it’s heritage, comfort, and a culinary hug all in one bowl.

Served steaming hot, rich with tomatoes, chickpeas, lentils, and fragrant spices, Harira has been warming up Moroccan homes for centuries. It’s the first thing that hits the table at Iftar during Ramadan, the go-to dish when the temperature drops, and for many, a remedy for everything from homesickness to heartbreak.

But here’s the thing: Harira is personal. Every family has their own way of making it, and every Moroccan will tell you their version is the best. And when I say personal, I mean it—because the way I eat my Harira? Let’s just say it has nearly cost me my Moroccan residency on more than one occasion.

A Soup That Goes Beyond Ramadan

Yes, Harira is synonymous with Ramadan, and if you’ve ever been in Morocco during that holy month, you know exactly what I mean. As the sun sets and the streets start to quiet, there’s an unmistakable rhythm—the distant sound of the call to prayer, the smell of Harira simmering in kitchens, and entire families gathering around the table.

But here’s what they don’t tell you: Harira isn’t just for Ramadan. It’s a year-round favorite, whether it’s a cold winter night, a casual family meal, or just one of those days when you need something warm, nourishing, and deeply satisfying.

I've had it in small mountain villages where it’s cooked over wood fire, in Marrakech riads with a touch of saffron, and at roadside stalls where they serve it with a side of fresh, crusty bread. No two bowls are exactly the same, but they all share that deep, rich, unmistakable Harira essence.

Regional Variations: No Two Bowls Are Alike

Every part of Morocco has its own twist on Harira, and trust me, Moroccans will defend their region’s version with passion.

• Fassi Harira (Fez): Rich, thick, and luxurious, often made with smen (aged butter) for extra depth.

• Marrakech Harira: Lighter and more herbal, with extra coriander and a hint of lemon.

• Berber Harira (Atlas Mountains): Rustic and hearty, sometimes thickened with barley flour instead of wheat.

• Saharan Harira: Simpler and earthier, often using camel meat or dried fava beans instead of chickpeas.

Despite the differences, they all have one thing in common—when you take that first spoonful, you know you're tasting Morocco in its purest form.

The Harira Recipe That Works Every Time

Now, there’s no single "correct" Harira recipe (and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying). But after years of tasting, tweaking, and annoying Moroccan grandmothers with questions, this is the version I swear by.

Ingredients (Serves 6-8)

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• 200g lamb or beef (optional), diced

• 1 onion, finely chopped

• 3 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 tsp turmeric

• 1 tsp ginger powder

• 1/2 tsp cinnamon

• 1/2 tsp black pepper

• 1 tsp paprika

• 500g ripe tomatoes (or canned), blended

• 1 tbsp tomato paste

• 1.5L water or broth

• 100g cooked chickpeas

• 80g lentils (brown or green)

• 2 tbsp fresh coriander, chopped

• 2 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped

• 1 celery stalk, finely chopped

• 50g vermicelli (optional, but gives this extra thickness)

• 2 tbsp flour mixed with 100ml water (to thicken)

• Juice of ½ lemon

• Salt to taste

  
  
  
  
  
  
  

  

  

  
  
  
  
  

How to Prepare It

1. Heat the oil in a deep pot over medium heat, then add the onions and meat (if using). Sauté until the onions are soft and the meat is lightly browned.

2. Stir in the garlic and spices. The kitchen will start to smell amazing njaaam—this is when you know you’re on the right track.

3. Add the blended tomatoes and tomato paste, stirring well. Let it cook for 10 minutes to build a deep tomato flavor.

4. Pour in the water or broth, then add the chickpeas, lentils, coriander, parsley, and celery. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for about 40 minutes.

5. If using vermicelli, add it in the last 5 minutes of cooking. (option)

6. Slowly stir in the flour mixture, letting it thicken the soup. Let it cook for another 10 minutes to blend all the flavors.

7. Finish with a squeeze of lemon juice and adjust the salt to taste.

How I Eat Harira (And Why It Might Get Me Kicked Out of Morocco)

Now, here’s where things get me into trouble.

The "proper" way to eat Harira is with: A handful of dates Chebakia (those dangerously addictive sesame-honey pastries)

And yes, I respect that. It’s a perfect combo. BUT…

I like my Harira with a hardboiled egg that is part of the tradition and you can not go wrong with but adding in the Harira is the sin of a Belgian guy who came 17 years ago to Morocco.

When you slice that egg in half and let the yolk mix slightly into the soup, it adds a richness that just works.

I also add har (hot sauce) and each time I say it i hear in my head the collective gasp of Moroccan grandmothers and my dear Milella. God bless her soul.

Now, Moroccans love their spices, but Harira isn’t traditionally spicy. Adding har? That’s crossing the line and even more if we add some drops of Tabasco. I’ve had people stare in horror as I casually drizzle in a few drops, shaking their heads as if I’ve personally insulted their ancestors.

And that’s why I say it—if the Moroccan authorities ever revoke my residency, it will be because of this.

Harira: More Than Just a Soup

It’s a dish that tells a story, warms the soul, and brings family and friends together. It’s a dish that’s been perfected over generations yet still leaves room for personal twists (even the controversial ones).

So, whether you eat it the traditional way or risk your residency status like I do, one thing is certain—Harira isn’t just a soup.

It’s Morocco in a bowl.

Bessaha! 🍲

Peter

Time for a coffee