
Khunjul, or Moroccan Spiced Red Tea. Peggy Cormary/photo; Marie Ostrosky/food styling, for The Washington Post
This past December — amid a sunset crowd of vendors selling pomegranates, spices and snacks of steamed snails; henna tattooists, snake “charmers” with all the charm of used-car salesmen, fez-twirling dancers, curious tourists and hungry locals; and likely pickpockets taking advantage of everyone’s distraction — I tasted one of the best nonalcoholic drinks I’ve had in a long time.
That December was almost entirely dry for me was an accidental outcome, not an attempt to jump the gun on Dry January. I keep my alcohol consumption at a low level all the time, treating cocktails the way I do pizza and large slabs of chocolate cake: pleasures not for daily use. Dry January, Sober October, Abstinence August, No Booze Tues, and whatever TikTok might hand us next, just don’t work for me. I prefer Slightly Damp Whole Year.
My mostly-dry December happened because my sister, Molly, and I took a long-planned trip through Morocco, going from Rabat to the Western Sahara, passing through the Atlas Mountains and ending in Marrakesh. With all the cultures, religions and histories that have intersected in the country over centuries, it is a destination I cannot recommend highly enough, especially as presented by our guide, Ibrahim Laarif, a native Moroccan who served rotating roles as cultural and religious interpreter, translator, historian, blocker of hawkers, and procurer of stamps, local snacks and stomach medicines to treat their effects.
Usually when I travel, I try to hit some local craft cocktail spots, but I had no such expectation on this trip. Moroccan laws and attitudes about drinking are deeply shaped by Islam. Around 99 percent of the population is Sunni Muslim; the sacred texts of Islam are fundamentally consistent in forbidding alcohol; and the Quran is explicit about avoiding drinking alcohol before prayer. Morocco has a more moderate approach on the issue than many other Islamic countries, though: Drinking is not illegal. You can buy alcohol in shops and there are licensed bars and restaurants that serve it, but both cater mostly to expats and foreigners — and Ibrahim told me that it’s not uncommon for police to enter such places, find Moroccans drinking there and remove them for a talking to. So there’s the law, and there’s how it’s enforced.
It was interesting to spend two weeks where alcohol is not a linchpin of meals and socializing — personally, culturally and in terms of what we drank in the absence of beer, wine and cocktails. In the U.S., the uptick in nondrinkers has sparked a surge in nonalcoholic products, including wine, craft beers, mocktails and zero-proof spirits, reflecting a growing demand from those seeking the social and sensory experiences of drinking without the alcohol. But Morocco made me think about how many delicious nonalcoholic drinks have been available for centuries.
As with alcoholic products, today’s commercial NA products are a mixed bag — I’ve tried some that are terrific, and some that are assertively off-putting or so subtle they weren’t worth their price tag. And there’s added complexity around the number of products pitched to the “sober” that contain other psychoactive compounds such as THC. I doubt humans will ever lose the desire to experiment with substances that alter their consciousness, even as that desire changes shape.
Drinking mostly hot mint tea, fresh fruit juices and nos-nos (half coffee-half milk, also sometimes written as nous nous) for two weeks made me realize that the list of newer NA products that I’d purchase — before turning instead to mint tea or the warmth of spiced chai or cooling horchata or one of the many hibiscus-based drinks common from Africa to the Caribbean to Asia — is still a pretty short list.
In Morocco, mint tea is ubiquitous, a green gunpowder tea served hot, with fresh mint and often other herbs steeping into it. “Berber whiskey,” as it’s often cheekily known — in reference to the indigenous people who have lived in North Africa for millennia — is offered as a gesture of hospitality everywhere you go. “If couscous or a tagine symbolizes Morocco on the plate, then mint tea does so in the glass,” Jeff Koehler wrote in the “North African Cookbook.” “Mint tea starts and ends a day, is sipped as a midmorning and afternoon break, precedes and finishes a meal.”
We drank it daily on our trip, and I could taste the variations in the herbs added from one place to the next. I had a moment of deep confusion when one of our hosts noted that he was adding absinthe instead of mint, only to realize that he meant not the drink but the bitter herb, wormwood, that gives the high-proof spirit its signature flavor.
I had expected the mint tea (I’m a big fan of a cocktail that incorporates it, the L’Aventura Punch). I had not been prepared for khunjul. But given Marrakesh’s centuries of history as a stop for spice traders, maybe I should have been?
On one of our nights in Marrakesh, Ibrahim took our group around to a few select food and drink vendors in the Djemaa el-Fna, the ancient square near the labyrinthine market. Big copper pots were steaming at several stalls, but Ibrahim told me that he always goes to No. 69, because its vendor, Mustapha El Bahja, was the first to start selling it in the square decades ago. Ibrahim presented the drink almost as a dare, hot in a glass teacup. Deep red, its fumes were a punch in the face — partly, I found out later, because Ibrahim added a sliver of crystalized menthol from the herbalist we’d visited in the souk.
Under that blast of minty vapors, it was sweet, tart and pungent. The flavor reminded me a bit of Angostura bitters, that deep, rich baking spice, but with more chile heat, florality and fruitiness. My eyes watered. My taste buds whooped.
The stall had posted a list of the ingredients, nearly 20 different spices that included galangal, ginger, cinnamon, cloves, peppercorn and many more. I snapped a shot of the list and did some more digging on khunjul later, and Ibrahim was kind enough to tell me about drinking it growing up. His family would have it every Thursday in the winter — it’s a drink people turn to warm themselves when temperatures dip, as well as to treat various respiratory ailments and colds. It’s also considered an aphrodisiac. People make it at home, and the spice roster varies based on what conditions they’re trying to remedy. Like so many drinks, what I was experiencing as a source of pleasurable intrigue started out, and continues to be used, as medicine.
I realize that suggesting you pop over to Marrakesh for the real deal may not be realistic. With some online reading, Ibrahim’s tips and that precious posted ingredient list, I attempted a version. It is, no doubt, a shadow of the Moroccan quaff. I’m but a tourist dipping my toe — or tongue! — into this complex vat of spicy goodness.
I suspect some folks will find the roster of ingredients overwhelming, but to be fair: I scaled back their number significantly. I did keep one of the listed components that Ibrahim said is unusual for khunjul — dried hibiscus flowers, which were instrumental to the flavor and color that I experienced, and which made me wonder about possible connections between khunjul and sorrel, the spicy hibiscus drink with roots in West Africa. If you play around with the recipe, let me know if you land on a spice ratio you like — and if those aphrodisiacal qualities kick in, I don’t want to know about it.
Khunjul (Moroccan Spiced Red Tea)
Active time: 10 mins. Total time: 25 mins
Servings: 4-6 (makes about 5 1/2 cups)
Though khunjul (sometimes spelled khoudenjal) gets referred to as a “tea,” it’s really a roster of heady spices, most prominently the ginger-like galangal root, without any actual tea leaves. The intensely aromatic drink is served hot and often taken as an herbal cold remedy in Morocco – think of a nonalcoholic hot toddy. Locals adjust the ingredients to their preferences, and you can dial in the heat and the sweet by adjusting the amount of pepper, chiles and sugar. You’ll need cheesecloth or a nut milk bag to strain the spices. The hibiscus flowers are not common in preparations of the drink, but were a key component in the version Spirits columnist M. Carrie Allan was introduced to while on a trip to Morocco.
Storage: Refrigerate for up to 1 week; reheat until hot before serving
Where to buy: Dried hibiscus can be found at many international markets and online. Dried pequin peppers can be found at spice shops, such as Penzeys, and online. Ground galangal can be found at spice shops, Indian or Asian markets, and online.
INGREDIENTS
6 cups water
1/2 cup dried hibiscus petals (see Where to buy)
1 whole star anise
3 dried pequin peppers (see Where to buy and Substitutions)
1/2 tablespoon ground galangal (see Where to buy and Substitutions)
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 cup brown sugar (any kind), plus more as needed
DIRECTIONS
In a medium pot over medium-low heat, bring the water to a near-simmer. Add the hibiscus petals and star anise, and stir to saturate the petals. Add the pequin peppers, galangal, cinnamon, black pepper, cardamom, cloves and nutmeg, and stir to thoroughly saturate the spices. Cook, uncovered, adjusting the heat as needed to maintain a simmer and tasting the mixture occasionally until the desired spiciness is reached, 10 to 15 minutes. Remove from the heat, and let cool slightly, about 5 minutes.
Line a fine-mesh strainer set over a heatproof bowl with a nut milk bag or a double-folded piece of cheesecloth. Pour the liquid through the cloth and discard the solids. (Don’t press on them or the resulting drink might become grainy.) Add the sugar, stir to dissolve, and taste again, adding more sugar as desired. Ladle the drink into tea cups and serve hot.
Substitutions
Ground galangal >> ground ginger.
Pequin peppers >> pinch of cayenne pepper.
Nutritional Facts per serving (scant 1 cup), based on 6 | Calories: 33; Fat: 0 g; Saturated Fat: 0 g; Carbohydrates: 9 g; Sodium: 4 mg; Cholesterol: 0 mg; Protein: 0 g; Fiber: 0 g; Sugar: 9 g
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