From Tori Avey
I was first introduced to couscous by my Grandma Lois, who learned about it on a Moroccan vacation with my grandfather Clarence (they traveled the world in their retirement years). This was back in the early 1980’s when couscous, hummus and other Middle Eastern delights were not yet well known to most Americans. Grandma was both shocked and amazed when she learned that Moroccans eat couscous with their hands. Despite her initial reservations about the communal utensil-free eating style, she dug in with the rest of the group. She quickly fell in love with what then seemed like a very exotic food, and decided that she must make it when she returned home. Instant couscous was not widely available in our small California hometown grocery market, so Grandma made special trips to a health food store in a neighboring town to stock up. I actually remember my first taste; I couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old. I fell in love with the texture… thousands of tiny pasta-like pieces, warm and fluffy, soaking up whatever sauce Grandma served with it. Couscous quickly became my favorite starchy side dish, preferred over potatoes, pasta, rice and other grains. To this day, I find couscous a comfort… it reminds me of dining with my grandma and grandpa, listening to their colorful Middle Eastern travel adventures.
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