About Tanjia and how immediately we were taken advantage of

About Tanjia and how immediately we were taken advantage of

[Dec. 2025] In Marrakesh, Morocco, after leaving our luggage at the riad, we went out for lunch.

Our driver, Yousuf, had told us about a Marrakesh specialty dish called Tangia, so we searched online for a restaurant that served it.

interior of the Tangia speciality restaurant called 'Tangia Secret' in Marrakesh, Morocco
Tangia Secret, a small restaurant in Marrakesh

We went outside in search of the restaurant we found online, “Tangia Secret.”

Upon stepping outside, we were overwhelmed by the sheer number of people and the chaotic atmosphere.

It was even more intense than in Fez, I think.

Probably because the number of tourists is excessive.

Thanks to Google, we soon arrived at a restaurant that was more of a simple eatery than a proper restaurant.

There are many places like this in Morocco.

the Tangia pot and vegetables served in Tangia Secret, a restaurant in Marrakesh, Morocco
this pot is called Tangia

This Tangia dish is apparently made by cooking meat in a pot over a fire for many hours.

The pot itself seems to be called Tangia.

The meat is supposedly so tender it falls apart easily, even with a spoon, and apparently, in the past, they used the residual heat from the hammam‘s stove to cook it.

I chose chicken, and my husband chose beef.

It came with small side dishes of vegetables and beans.

The meat was indeed tender, but… well, I don’t recall it being particularly delicious.

many people walking in the souk in Marrakesh, Morocco
crowded souk

For drinks, I had Schweppes Lemon, which I’ve grown quite accustomed to on this trip.

Tea and biscuits were served, and the bill came to 300 dirhams (about 28 euros).

Probably tourist prices.

For some reason, I’m not very satisfied with the meals each time.

After the meal, we wandered around the souk.

With shops lining the streets one after another, we couldn’t just walk past and ended up buying a few things.

the dyes shown in a textile shop in Marrakesh, Morocco
showing their dyes in the shop

Eventually, my husband was taken in by a tall salesman and dragged to a dye market, where I impulsively ended up buying a scarf I hadn’t planned on buying for 400 dirhams.

At first, the man pointed to a picture in the scarf shop and said, “This is my father,” but at the end, he asked us, “How much did you pay?” in order to get a commission from the shop.

This must be the kind of people Yusuf had warned us about in the car.

I think we were completely ripped off, but what’s done is done.

I’ll try to use this scarf as much as possible and depreciate its value.