Lalla Zehra Farm: Finding Marrakech’s Best Loved Cooking Class
An unforgettable afternoon of warm hospitality, slow cooking, and unscripted generosity in the Moroccan countryside.
Beyond the Red City
On the fifth day of our trip, we finally reached the afternoon we had all been looking forward to the most: our cooking class at Lalla Zehra Farm. Sylvia had booked the all-inclusive experience well in advance, and a polite young gentleman collected us right from the heart of the Medina, beginning the forty-five-minute journey away from the bustling streets of Marrakech and into the peaceful Moroccan countryside.
As the terracotta walls of the Red City gradually disappeared behind us, the landscape began to change. Busy streets gave way to open countryside, where ancient olive groves stretched across the sun-baked earth. In the distance, the hazy outline of the Atlas Mountains floated gently beneath a cloudless sky.
For a while, nobody said very much; we simply watched the Moroccan landscape unfold through the windows. Leaving the energy of Marrakech behind, the vastness of the countryside felt almost meditative. We thought we were only heading to a cooking class, unaware that we were about to experience one of the highlights of our entire journey.
If you missed the first part of our Marrakech journey, you can read it here: Beyond the Red City: A 6-Day Marrakech Travel Diary & Itinerary.
Arriving at an Oasis
When our minibus pulled up outside Lalla Zehra Farm, a young lady opened the gate with a radiant smile. This was Kenza, our instructor for the afternoon, whose natural warmth and relaxed manner immediately put everyone at ease.
Before the lesson began, we were invited to sample traditional refreshments while waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. Fresh mint tea, chilled drinks, and an assortment of local pastries were served beneath the shade, offering an easy introduction to the leisurely pace of the afternoon ahead.
While everyone settled in, I wandered off to explore the grounds. Lalla Zehra is not a commercial venue in the conventional sense, but a private family home lovingly surrounded by lush gardens. Chickens wandered freely between the pathways, curious goats grazed happily, and butterflies danced around fragrant lavender bushes.
Pass them stretched flourishing organic vegetable beds, their bright green leaves striking against the rich, red earth, supplying the kitchen with seasonal offerings. Nearby, an inviting pool that mirrored the afternoon sky, where guests could relax while the tagines simmered.
Under the thatched roof of the outdoor pavilion, a long preparation counter, finished with beautiful emerald-green tiles, had been laid out with effortless elegance. Fresh vegetables, fragrant spices, and traditional cooking utensils were carefully arranged, ready for the afternoon’s lesson. Behind us, rustic stone shelves displayed woven baskets overflowing with freshly harvested produce, creating a colourful abundance that felt far richer than anything found in a supermarket.
It was immediately clear that this was a place where food was celebrated, shared, and cherished.
A Welcome Under the Mulberry Trees
We were introduced to Noura, the cooking class manager and our second instructor. Like Kenza, she welcomed us with genuine warmth. Although hosting was their daily routine, both women made us feel less like clients and more like old friends stepping into a familiar home.
During our first few minutes together, Noura asked if I had ever tried a white mulberry before. When I told her I hadn’t, she smiled and led me over to the tree. Reaching high up into the leafy canopy, she plucked several perfectly ripe berries and held them out in her open palms for me to see. There was a pure, infectious joy in the way she insisted I try them, as though she couldn’t wait to share one of the farm’s little treasures with a new friend.
Afterward, we all scattered across the grounds like wide-eyed explorers discovering a secret hideaway. Holding my daughter and Sylvia close for a photo, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude.
Nearby, Martin stood proudly beside our son and Jon, all three smiling together as the camera clicked.
Around the Table
As more guests arrived, conversations flowed as though we were greeting old friends rather than complete strangers. There was none of the awkwardness that often accompanies organised group activities; within minutes, everyone seemed totally at ease.
I found myself chatting with Kelly, a cheerful young lady from the UK who now runs an Airbnb in Marrakech. Along with her friend Becky, we exchanged stories about our travels, our families, and the unexpected paths that had brought us to this peaceful corner. Our chatter picked up easily, punctuated by laughter that seemed to echo across the gardens.
Building the Pyramid
Soon, Kenza invited us to gather around the long preparation counter, gently explaining the traditions behind each stage of the process. She showed us how to rub together a fragrant chermoula, why the onions and carrots formed the foundation of the dish, and how the vegetables should be carefully arranged into their distinctive pyramid shape. Every ingredient had its place; every step had its purpose.
Within minutes, rows of steaming tagines were simmering over glowing charcoal.
Sides and Smoked Spices
While the main dishes cooked slowly, Kenza announced it was time for our second lesson: preparing one of Morocco’s best-loved sides, Zaalouk.
With our chopping boards turned over and knives back in hand, we each peeled the smoky skins from freshly charred aubergines and tomatoes. One by one, we carried our ingredients to a large communal tagine where Kenza showed us how to season and mix them, before placing it over the majmar.
It struck me that this dish perfectly reflected the spirit of the afternoon. Although each of us had arrived as individuals, we were now creating something together. Once the herbs, garlic, and spices met the chopped vegetables, the mixture slowly turned into a rich salad, its smoky aroma filling the open-air kitchen.
Oven to Table
Then came the moment everyone was waiting for: making fresh Moroccan bread.
Noura gathered us around the opposite side of the counter to introduce the traditional art of Khobz. She demonstrated each stage patiently and cheerfully before inviting us to make our own. The atmosphere shifted, we were all excited, yet focused and calm.
Each of us received a bowl of flour and began shaping the simplest ingredients. Mixing, kneading, stretching, and moulding the dough by hand gave us a new appreciation for one of Morocco’s everyday staples.
With the team’s help, we slid our dough discs into the burning tafarnoute clay oven. Moments later, they emerged puffed and lightly browned. The crusts were crisp, while the centers remained hollow, bouncy, and soft. Nothing compares to bread eaten warm from the oven.
The True Magic of the Farm
As the afternoon slowly drifted toward evening, the golden light softened across the gardens. Our tagines were ready.
One by one, we carried them to the dining table, where colourful Moroccan textiles, woven placemats, handcrafted pottery, and fresh flowers transformed the space.
Lifting the conical lids released a cloud of fragrant steam. We tore generous pieces from our still-warm bread, using them to scoop up the rich vegetable tagine alongside spoonfuls of the smoky Zaalouk.
The food was delicious. Perhaps it was the freshness of the ingredients, or the slow cooking over glowing charcoal. Or perhaps it tasted better because every one of us had played a small part in creating it.
Looking around the table, I realised nobody was checking their phones. There was no sense of urgency. A group of strangers now sat together around a table, enjoying the timeless pleasure of cooking and eating together.
And somehow, I think that was exactly what Lalla Zehra Farm had hoped to share with us all.
A Joyful Journey Home
The sun was beginning to sink behind the olive groves when it came time to say our goodbyes. Reluctantly, we gathered our bags, exchanged hugs and handshakes, and thanked Kenza and Noura for such a memorable afternoon.
Waiting outside was the gentleman who would drive us back to Marrakech. He introduced himself with a broad smile and, as we soon discovered, was the older brother of our daytime driver. Although they were family, their personalities could not have been more different. Where his younger brother had been quiet and reserved, he was friendly, chatty and cheerful. The journey home was filled with laughter almost from the moment we set off.
Then one of his favourite songs came on the radio. He began singing with such passion that my son and Sylvia immediately joined in. Laughter gave way to clapping, and suddenly, the whole minibus was singing along. Not all of us understood every word, yet somehow it didn’t matter. Music has a way of dissolving language, just as good food around a dinner table, it brings people together.
The Arts of Slowing Down
As the lights of Marrakech slowly reappeared on the horizon, I found myself reflecting on the afternoon. Looking back, what stayed with us far more profoundly was the generosity we received, and the unspoken happiness the afternoon had brought to us all.
Our time at Lalla Zehra Farm was a gentle reminder of something we so easily overlook: that some of life’s most meaningful moments begin when we slow down enough to truly cherish the company of the loved ones around us.
If you missed the first part of our journey, do take a look at Beyond the Red City: A 6-Day Marrakech Travel Diary & Itinerary (Part 1), where I share our complete six-day itinerary and the places we explored before arriving at the farm.
I have also created a video to accompany this post, capturing many of the moments from our afternoon together. I hope it brings a little of the warmth, laughter and joy that made this experience so memorable. I plan to publish it next week, so please stay tuned!
With the kind permission of Lalla Zehra Farm, I am delighted to share their recipe for a traditional vegetable tagine below. If you make it at home, I would love to hear how it turns out.
Traditional Moroccan Vegetable Tagine
This wonderfully versatile tagine can be adapted with whatever seasonal vegetables you have on hand. The secret lies in the fragrant chermoula and the beautiful layered arrangement of the vegetables.
Preparation: 20 minutes
Cooking: 1 hour
Serves: 1–2
Ingredients
- ½ onion, sliced
- 2 carrots, cut into rounds
- Seasonal vegetables of your choice (we used courgettes, potatoes, tomatoes and peppers)
- 3 garlic cloves, finely minced
- A small handful of fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped
- 1 preserved lemon
- Extra virgin olive oil
- Salt, to taste
Spice Mix
- 1 tsp paprika
- 1 tsp ground ginger
- 1 tsp ground turmeric
- ½ tsp freshly ground black pepper
Method
- Prepare the chermoula. In a small bowl, combine the garlic, parsley, paprika, ginger, turmeric, black pepper, a generous pinch of salt, a good drizzle of olive oil and the soft pulp scooped from the preserved lemon. Mix well.
- Build the base. Arrange the sliced onion evenly over the bottom of the tagine. Cover with a layer of carrot slices.
- Layer the vegetables. Arrange your remaining vegetables on top, building them upwards into the traditional pyramid shape.
- Season. Spoon the chermoula evenly over the vegetables, making sure every layer is lightly coated.
- Finish. Slice the preserved lemon rind into thin strips and arrange decoratively over the top.
- Cook. Cover with the tagine lid and cook gently over a very low heat for around one hour, or until all the vegetables are meltingly tender.