A few weeks ago, I was in Washington DC, and my Moroccan cabdriver was eating the spiral flatbread (I forget its name). He told us that bread had been baked by his mother in Morocco the day before and brought to him by another relative who had flown over for a visit. We began talking food and I mentioned I needed to buy a tagine. He immediately offered to take me to the local suk, and when I agreed, turned the meter off and away we went. He haggled for a tagine on my behalf, carried it out of the suk for me, and delivered me and my tagine back to my hotel. I got his card and made peanut brittle and sent to him when I got home.
