Name: Moroccan Chicken Tagine
Prep time: 25 min
Cook time: 1 h 10 min
Total time: 1 h 35 min
Yield: 4 servings
Cuisine: Moroccan
Ingredients: 1.5 lbs (700g) bone-in chicken thighs; 2 tablespoons olive oil; 2 medium onions, thinly sliced; 3 cloves garlic, minced; 1 teaspoon ground cumin; 1 teaspoon ground ginger; 1 teaspoon ground turmeric; 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon; 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper; 1 teaspoon paprika; 1 preserved lemon, rind only, sliced; 1 cup green olives, pitted; 1/2 cup chicken broth; Fresh cilantro and parsley, chopped, for garnish; Salt, to taste

So, Let Me Tell You About This Moroccan Chicken Tagine…

You ever have one of those days where you really want something hearty, but not so heavy you just want to go nap after eating? That is basically Moroccan Chicken Tagine in my family. I remember the first time I tried making this—my cousin reminded me gently (okay, maybe not so gently) that tagine, technically, is the name of the pot, too, not just the dish. Guess who didn’t own a tagine pot? Me. But did that stop me? Nope.

Anyway, the kitchen smelled like vacation. Maybe because of all that preserved lemon, or maybe because I accidentally bought the world’s most fragrant saffron. Still, every time I make this, it takes me straight back to that slightly-too-small kitchen, with someone always poking their head in asking when it’ll be ready (never soon enough, apparently).

Why My Family (and I) Can’t Get Enough of This

I break this one out when I feel that mid-week slump, or if I’m trying to impress someone—like when my sister’s picky partner visited and wouldn’t eat “anything weird.” Fast forward, he took thirds. There’s something about the way the chicken turns so tender that you could eat it with a spoon (but who does that?). Plus, you get all those savory-sweet notes at once; it’s one of the only meals that seems to hit every taste bud. If the onions make you cry, well, it’s worth it. (Onion goggles are a thing, yes they look ridiculous, but they work.)

The Stuff You’ll Need (and What You Can Swap)

1 whole chicken (about 1.5kg), cut into pieces & skin on is best, but honestly, thighs work great for lazy days
2 large onions, sliced thin (or just chopped roughly, life’s too short)
3-4 garlic cloves, minced (sometimes I throw in an extra one—nobody complains)
1-2 preserved lemons, quartered (You can sub in half a fresh lemon and a bit more salt if you’re in a pinch, just don’t tell my aunt)
A handful of green olives (pitted or not; my friend eats them straight from the jar, so budget accordingly)
2 tsp ground ginger
2 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground turmeric (a little more if you love the color)
A pinch of saffron threads, soaked in 2 tbsp warm water (Okay, saffron’s pricey; you can skip it, or try a tiny bit of smoked paprika, which is not authentic, just fun)
1 tsp ground cinnamon (or a cinnamon stick if you’ve got one lurking in the pantry)
Salt & pepper (to taste, but I usually end up adding more after checking mid-cook)
2-3 tbsp olive oil (or, if you’re almost out, veggie oil is fine, the world won’t end)
1 small bunch coriander (cilantro), chopped
1 small bunch parsley, chopped
About 500ml chicken stock or just plain water if you’re out

How I Actually Make Moroccan Chicken Tagine (with Plenty of Tangents)

First off, heat your olive oil up in a big heavy-bottomed pot (or that actual tagine, if you happen to have one; if not, a Dutch oven, big sauté pan, or my trusty old stew pot all work just fine).
Toss in the onions and cook until they’re soft-ish—don’t rush here (I once cranked up the heat and just got weird burnt bits, so patience pays off).
Add garlic, ginger, cumin, turmeric, cinnamon, and the saffron water. Stir until it all smells wild and the onions look golden—this is where I usually sneak a taste. Not for flavor, just for comfort.
Now pile in the chicken pieces, skin-side down. Brown ’em for a few minutes (they don’t need to be perfect, just don’t leave them raw looking).
Give everything a good sprinkle of salt and black pepper. Tuck in your preserved lemon bits and olives wherever they’ll fit.
Pour enough chicken stock (or water, or that suspicious broth cube dissolved in water) to come about halfway up the meat. Don’t drown it… this is stew, not soup.
Scatter chopped parsley and coriander on top, pop a lid on, and turn the heat way down.
Let it simmer for about 1 hour 15 minutes. Check every now and then that it’s not drying out—add a splash more liquid if you need to (the one thing that’s never worked is just ignoring it for ages. Trust me, charred tagine is a mood-killer).
Right about the last 15 minutes, leave the lid off to let the sauce thicken up a bit. Or don’t, if you like things with extra broth. I sometimes serve it almost like a thick soup; nobody protests.

Stuff I’ve Learned (Usually the Hard Way)

If you forget the olives, folks will tell you—every single bite. Don’t skimp unless you genuinely hate them.
Preserved lemons do make a difference, but I survived for years using just regular lemon rounds plus some extra salt.
Once, I tried to microwave the onions to save time. That’s…not it.

Variations: The Good, the Bad, and the Kinda Weird

I’ve swapped in chickpeas for chicken when my veggie cousin visits—it’s fine, but different, almost like a whole other dish honestly.
Added dried apricots one time, trying to be fancy. Mixed results: My mum loved it, my dad picked them out. (Honestly, just for color they look nice but I kinda like the classic savory version more.)
Once tossed in too much cinnamon. Don’t. It tastes like someone dropped a cinnamon roll in your stew.

Do You Actually Need a Tagine Pot?

Short answer: Nah. A Dutch oven or cast iron pot will get you close. You can even make it in a slow-cooker; just brown everything up first on the stove, or you’ll miss out on all those tasty brown bits. The point is, don’t let fancy equipment keep you from a good meal (I once used a battered old aluminum pot—lived to tell the tale).

How Long Does It Keep? (Or Does It?)

Officially, it’ll be fine in the fridge for up to 3 days, in a sealed container so it doesn’t perfume your leftover rice. But honestly? It’s usually all eaten within 24 hours at my place. And I’m pretty sure it’s even tastier on day two, if you have the restraint. I don’t freeze it much since the olives get a little weird when thawed, but the sauce survives!

How I Like to Serve It (Plus One Silly Tradition)

I love to pile it over plain couscous (sometimes jazzed up with lemon zest and almonds if I’m feeling fancy), but crusty bread is totally legit as a side too. Believe it or not, my brother insists on a cold Coke with his, which our grandad says is “all wrong”—but family, right? Sometimes, we’ll even sneak in a quick green salad. Just because.

Lessons Learned the Hard Way: My Little Pro Tips

Give the onions time; if you rush, you wind up with odd flavor and not enough sweetness (I’ve tried, then had to start again—annoying!).
The preserved lemons go in towards the start, not at the end—I once forgot, then tossed them in at the table. Just…no.
Always taste before serving. Sometimes the saltiness sneaks up on you, especially if your olives are super briny.
For more background on preserved lemons (and, frankly, how to make them if you fancy a project) check out this lovely guide on Serious Eats.

Your Questions, Actually Answered

Q: Can I do this with just chicken breasts?
A: You totally can, but it’s a bit less juicy. Maybe cut down the cook time so they don’t dry out?
Q: What if I can’t find preserved lemons?
A: Slice up a regular lemon, toss on extra kosher salt, and maybe add a tiny splash of vinegar. It’s not quite the same, but works in a pinch!
Q: Can I make this ahead?
A: Oh yeah. I think it tastes better the next day, actually. Extra flavor soaks in. Just reheat slowly, don’t nuke it (tried, regretted—the chicken went oddly rubbery).
Q: Where do you buy your spices?
A: Sometimes just the supermarket, other times I splurge on lovely stuff from The Spice Shop in London. (No, they’re not paying me—I just get giddy around spice jars.)
Q: Does this work with rice?
A: Sure does! I’m partial to couscous, but basmati rice or even some leftover pilaf—go for it.
Q: How spicy is it?
A: Not spicy hot, just full of warm spices. If you want a kick, throw in a pinch of cayenne or a fresh chili, why not?

But hey, if you’re ever passing through and craving the real thing, I’d say go try a tagine prepared in Marrakech. Until then, this is probably as close as you’ll get in an ordinary kitchen—unless you want to buy a plane ticket, in which case, take me with you?

Moroccan Chicken Tagine: My Go-To Comfort Food Recipe