Khoudenjal (خودنجال)

When the cold comes into Marrakech at night, it doesn't ask permission. It slips through the alleys, under the wool djellabas, right into the bones. Then you look for the copper cauldron and the dark drink inside it: khoudenjal, sharp with galangal, sweet enough to soften the throat, hot enough to send you back into the square with courage.

The root is the point. Dried galangal gives the drink its peppery, camphor-like bite, stronger and more medicinal than ginger, and the other spices stand behind it. Don't boil it to death. Simmer it gently, covered, so the roots and bark give what they have without turning harsh. Then let it sit a little. Infusions need patience, not force.

Serve it in small glasses, very hot and sweet, with dates or chebakia if the table has them. This is la cuisine du lien, the cooking of connection, even when the dish is a drink. One glass warms the hands. A second makes room for the person who just arrived.