Every culture has its own relation to food, especially in Tunisia. Here we are famous for our spicy cuisine and incredible sense of hospitality.
A: While El Warcha is known as a design studio, we are first and foremost a community connected by a love for many various things: OSB, orbital sanders, the Hafsia square, and sharing ... food!
R: We love food so much that we are talking about it for almost one hour now! In the middle of the day while I am fasting for Ramadan!
A: So why did you choose for us to talk about food?
R: For me, my best and most vivid memories at El Warcha are being all together around the same table sharing sardina سردينة (sardines), harissa هريسة, Tabouna طابونة, and stories. I miss having 3oura عورة our one-eyed studio cat between our legs, bothering us for some leftover food. Moments where we are not talking about work, just laughing.
A: Like a family that gathers together at the end of a long day of work or study, exchanging news between mouthfuls of hot, delicious foods. From mlawi ملاوي and chapati شباتي, s7an tounsi صحن تونسي and macarona مقرونة, so many signs of Tunisian life, culture, and values can be found in a meal.
T7eb chwaya? your coworker, friend, or neighbor says while offering you a bite (or three) from their sandwich. هيا بسم الله! Haya bismillah! Ija koul! إيجى كول! Come eat with us! Hat el khoubz! هات الخبز! Pass the bread! Food isn’t simply life sustenance, but the way we live, connect, celebrate, and love ... Even if the Tunisian tradition of splitting the شقالة (one giant plate for the family) has become less common.
R: But at least we keep sharing food in our happiest and hardest moments of our lives. Big white tables, people eating Tajin طاجين, Kosksi كسكسي, and slata mechouia سلاطة مشوية . You can not find a big difference if it is a wedding or funeral. People around food are happy. “ديما الهمهاما موجودة”.
A: The sharing of bread remains a practice of meal as ritual, one that grows and sustains our social bond. No one eats alone.
R: Everywhere El Warcha has moved, there have been meals shared. Justin’s house, Dar Interference, Marlene’s house, the second and third studios ...
A: And countless lunches in the main Hafsia square! Makeshift tables are thrown together, a plank of OSB atop two horses or plates precariously balanced on folding chairs from the Cinema Bike. Such strong memories of eating, the laughter and buzzing energy, stick with us.
In Summer 2019, in our storage closet that looks more like a junkyard, stuffed with scrap materials and bicycle parts, we discovered an old, broken parasol. The morning was spent fixing it up, everyone wrapped up in the cutting and assembling of replacement parts, motivated by the fantasy of a team trip to the beach. I remember this day so clearly, not because of what we made in the workshop, but because of all the times afterwards where we huddled tightly together under the parasol. Under its shade, we hid from the summer sun. Under its shelter, we made patterns for serigraphie. Under it we found refuge in Place de La Hafsia, where we shared a gourmet meal of gouta ڤوتة , harissa هريسة, sardines, and fresh mlawi ملاوي from the shop 10m away. It was the first time in my entire life that I tried sardines.
R: Now in quarantine, I find myself craving this often, missing our time together ... I remember once, I was ‘ شاهية روز جربي محرحر’ and Justin came to the studio with big plates of it like he was reading my mind. It was the best coincidence. Also my first iftar outside the house in Ramadan (2018) was in Marlene’s house.
A: Plus the mini barbecue cut by Aziz and Mohamed from an old gas tank (2019), and Justin’s going away breakfast (2019), our list goes on and on. In some memories, we remember the joy most vividly, like Radhouan’s 25th birthday, his smile as big as the grin of the Cheshire cat from Alice and Wonderland. Birthdays at El Warcha take many forms, candles and sparklers standing in chocolate cake for Radhouan, an arrangement of tarte for me, a pile of mlawi for Rania Lahmer, or even the mountains of spaghetti you and I prepared together for Marlene.
R: Yes, Marlene’s birthday was epic, the spaghetti and the peanut butter cake was so delicious. I am jealous, ‘غرت برجولية’ ! Don't forget my birthday on the 16th of August!
A: In other stories, smell serves as a trigger.
R: Yeees! I miss sitting in the courtyard of the building adjacent to the studio and smelling food from the windows.
A: The smell of different meals wafting down from kitchens four or five stories above ...
R: Me and Big Aziz used to play a game, guessing what people are cooking. “Mmmm salata machwiya! Mmmmmm tagine! Mmmmm couscousi!” Even without directly interacting with or seeing the neighbors, the sense of smell makes us feel closer to them.
A: When we smell fish, we remember our kind neighbor who overheard there was a foreigner visiting Hafsia who wanted to try couscous with fish. Days later, she delivered a plate of couscousi bel hout كسكسي بالحوت, exactly what Inês had been craving, to the studio. This authentic sign of love and generosity beamed all the way to El Warcha London.
R: She is so kind, one day we had been working in the courtyard and noticed راحة قليان the smell of frying. After a few minutes, she came with yoyo يويو for everyone. Super delicious! Sharing food promotes social habitability.
A: It’s the ultimate sign of love. It’s really beautiful, the meal as a ritual.
R: It's all about the process. From the very beginning it is collaborative: walking to marché central, each person buying what they want, preparing the table, buying a cold bottle of
coke, washing the super dirty plates in the studio, cooking together, bonding together. “How do you do this? Does it taste good?”
A: In this exchange of knowledge, cooking becomes a creative project where everyone shares their own touch, technique, and taste. Food facilitates the building of connections between people. Through the cooking and sharing of traditional dishes by different hands, we can learn a surprising amount of things about a person: their preferences, background, culture, and family. The spices they use, how much, and the order ingredients are added reveals the history unique to each region and family.
R: We used to buy a lot of croissants for breakfast, but since you came, pancakes became the star of our morning yummys in the studio.
A: I LOVE PANCAKES. They hold a special value for me for many reasons. Pancakes with my family were a staple of my life growing up. Sunday morning, still in bed with my eyes closed, waking up to the smell of my dad making breakfast, then fighting at the table about the “right way” to eat pancakes: honey or syrup, stacked or not. To each their own.
R: It's the same for me and my family! I woke up on weekends only if I heard my father bought fatayr ايجا فطاير سخونة” فطاير “. Everyone in my family has their own favorite, crunchy versus fluffy, with honey versus sugar or معجون ma3joun. Everyone is satisfied in their own way.
A: The pancake/fatayr experience is universal, just with different foods around the world or in different families. Each person remains an individual while we are all sharing.
A: At El Warcha, pancakes symbolize the studio’s relationship between the members as a team and a part of the community. Twice we have made pancakes at the cafe across from the studio, cooking over the gas stovetop they use to heat tea. The pile of pancakes grows and shrinks as pieces are shared with the cafe’s patrons, then taken across the street and placed upon our table, a plank of OSB.
For me, the act of making pancakes in Hafsia highlights El Warcha’s reputation and place within the community: a group of creative people doing strange, yet wonderful things together. After all, it’s not every day you see two women speaking Arablish (a mix of Arabic and English) while flipping pancakes behind the counter of Cafe El Houma (the neighborhood men’s cafe).
R: They love us! Before El Warcha I was not able to enter a men’s cafe. Now, I do whatever I want behind the “contoire”, like I’m in my house.
R: Now we arrive at the question, what kind of world do we want to return to after quarantine?
A: For me, the answer is clear. At El Warcha, every meal is a picnic. In our family, everyone gives and everyone takes. I want a huge machwa مشوى (barbecue) in the streets.
R: I dream of us around a kas3a قصعة of kosksi, eating all together with the community from the same plate. The goal is to bring people back together, no matter how simple or complicated the meal. A line of tables in the middle of the street because sharing is caring.
A: Yes! The act of making the food and preparing the table is a group effort: the chopping of vegetables side-by-side and foods roasted on our DIY machwa. Colorful serigraphie banners hang from building to building over the communal table, running all the way from our beloved Cafe El Houma to the little hanout حانوت on the corner.
Imagine a community food festival that inspires us to come together and bring what we can. A plate, a chair, a cup, a cake, even just a tongue to taste. But most importantly, a vision to co-create. The pitter patter of children running builds our jaw جو (ambiance). Their laughter fuels us, their energy the key spice in our bubbling stew.
R: We have our grill. All the food ready. All we ask is for people to come.
A: The sound in the street drops suddenly, leaving only the echo of the call to prayer أذان in the distance. A few prayers whispered, then bread ripping apart, crusts crunching, elbows bumping, hands racing to the mouth with food that goes straight to the heart.
In this vision, things are not “back to normal.”
They’re better.
Text co-written by Aisha Abbassi and Rania Triki
Glossary of terms
هيا بسم الله !
Haya bismillah! An invitation to join and eat.
إيجى كول
Ija koul! “Come eat!”
عورة
3oura. The naughty cat of our third studio. “A-oo-ra” literally means one-eyed. This word is also used to tease someone who has bad aim.
شقالة
Ch9ala / shkala. A huge plate used to serve a communal dish. Often used for couscous or macarona.
قصعة
9asa3 / Qasaa. Another word for ch9ala. A big, communal dish.
هريسة
Harissa. Spicy red pepper paste. A staple in Tunisia!
سردينة
Sardina. Sardines.
ڤوتة
Gouta / rigouta. A creamy, fresh, soft and spreadable cheese. Similar in texture and taste to Italian ricotta.
هات الخبز!
Hat el khoubz. “Pass the bread!” Here, bread is essential. Bread is life!
طابونة
Tabouna. A circular bread. traditionally baked in a special clay oven that is also called “tabouna.”
ملاوي
Mlawi. (fast food) A delicious wrap made from semolina flour. Can be filled with harissa, meats, tuna, cheese, egg, vegetables. As you like it!
شباتيChapati. (fast food) A sandwich made with round, fluffy bread. Can be filled with harissa, mayonnaise, meats, tuna, cheese, omelette, veggies, and parsley. As you like it!
صحن تونسي
Sahen tounsi. (fast food) Translates literally to “Tunisian plate.” A small dish with salata machwiya, harissa, tomato, lettuce, cucumber, tuna, olive oil, olives, and semi-cooked egg on top. Eaten with tabouna طابونة or baguette.
كسكسي
Kosksi / couscousi. A Tunisian specialty dish made from semolina ground by a millstone. The small grains are steamed and served with a rich, red stew on top. The dish may include potatoes, carrots, pumpkin, peppers, hummus (chickpeas), meats, seafood, raisins, nuts, hard-boiled eggs, or herbs, depending on the region and occasion.
كسكسي بالحوت
Couscousi bel hout. Couscous with fish.
مقرونة
Macarona. A macaroni dish with a spicy red sauce.
طاجين
Tajin. A Tunisian specialty similar to a crustless quiche. Always made with eggs and herbs. Also common to have potatoes, meats, or cheese.
"شاهية روز جربي محرحر"
Chahiya roz Djerbi mharhar. "I was craving spicy Djerbi rice.”
روز جربي محرحر
Roz Djerbi mharhar. A rice dish unique to the island of Djerba in the south of Tunisia. Includes lots of herbs, peas, and usually chicken.
سلاطة مشوية
Slata mechouia. Literally translates to “grilled salad.” A mixture of tomatoes, onions, peppers, and garlic are roasted over a fire and then ground into a spicy dip.
فطاير
Fatayr. A crunchy, deep-fried dough usually eaten with honey or sugar.
يويو
Yoyo. A small fried donut, soaked in a sweet syrup.
حانوت
Hanout. A name for a small neighborhood store that sells a variety of foods and household items.
جو
Jaw. Atmosphere, ambiance, or energy.
أذان
Adhen. The call to prayer.
مشوى
Mechwa. A grill or barbecue used for cooking foods.
راحة قليان
Riha qalyan. The smell of frying.
“ديما الهمهاما موجودة”
Dima al hamhamaa mawjouda. A phrase meaning “A lot of delicious foods are always there.”
"غرت برجولية!"
Ghert bourjoulaya! “Oh, man! I’m jealous!”
"ايجا فطاير سخونة”
Ija fatayr skhouna! “Come, hot fatayr!”
Men’s cafe
Coffee shops in Tunisia are split into two categories: قهوة (cafe “for men”) or Salon de Thé (also known as “cafe mixte”).