An unapologetically romanticised journey into Oula

As far back as I can remember, the summers in our Tunisian village have been marked by a time-honoured tradition that resonates deeply within me—Oula. From the days of my childhood, I've watched in awe as the women of my family, along with the women of our village, would converge, their laughter mingling with the aromatic scents of spices. Together, they embarked on a culinary odyssey, handcrafting every element essential for our pantry's bounty.

They meticulously prepared couscous grains, imbuing them with stories passed down through generations. Harissa, the fiery essence of our cuisine, was born from their skilled hands as they deftly blended peppers with fragrant spices, each pinch a homage to our cultural legacy.

They conjured the humble bsissa as a timeless treasure, a blend of roasted nuts, cereals, and pulses delicately kissed by spices like fennel seed, aniseed, and marjoram. This ancestral marvel has graced our pantries across North Africa for millennia.

Slicing through the air with the rhythmic cadence of tradition, tomatoes, figs, and chillies were left to bask in the sun's embrace, transforming under its caress into treasures of intense flavour and vibrant colour. Meanwhile, the age-old art of preserving kadid meat unfolded.

As the scorching Tunisian sun cast its golden glow upon the land, tabel and carwiya spices were ushered into a symphony of flavours. Roasted under its fiery gaze and pounded, they released their essence, intertwining with the very nature of our culinary heritage.

This sacred practice of Oula has woven itself into the fabric of my being, shaping my culinary repertoire and my relationship with ingredients.

Visit Kalām for food culture.