Rooted in the land and cherished for centuries, olive oil is deeply embedded in the culinary traditions of every region of Morocco, as it is throughout the Mediterranean. However, in the Jbala and Rif territories, the Alwana variety stands out for its unique fruit selection and preparation process, which includes a roasting stage. In Taounate, this expertise is passed down exclusively from mother to daughter. In the Mediterranean region, civilizations have long innovated in olive oil production—not only for culinary purposes but also for a variety of utilitarian uses, including traditional medicine and lighting. Over millennia, communities developed olive varieties unique to their terroirs, shaped by the specificities of local soil, climate, fruit types, and ancestral know-how. This green gold was quickly elevated to the status of a food-medicine, becoming a cornerstone of the famed Mediterranean diet. It has remained a staple across the region, from Palestine and Egypt in the East to Morocco and Tunisia in North Africa, and through Southern Europe in countries such as Greece, Italy, and Spain. The cultivation of olives and the extraction of their oil is as ancient as agriculture itself, which emerged around 8,000 years ago in the East and Mesopotamia. The wild olive tree dates back over 14,000 years, while the first documented agricultural plantations appeared around 3,000 BCE. It is safe to say that olive oil production is deeply embedded in the DNA of humanity. Ancient societies spread this knowledge across the region, where the olive tree also carried powerful symbolic meaning in mythology and early spiritual beliefs. In monotheistic religions, the olive tree holds sacred value, symbolizing purity, life, and divinity. In Peasant Knowledge about Olive Oils (zaytun, Olea europaea var. europaea) and Wild Olive (əl-bərri, Olea europaea var. sylvestris) in the Rif, Northern Morocco, published in Jbala Societies and Nature (2017), researchers Yildiz Aumeeruddy-Thomas and Dominique Caubet highlight historical accounts showing that Amazigh communities were already cultivating and using olive trees as early as the mid-4th century BCE—approximately 2,500 years ago. In Morocco, numerous regions are renowned for their olive groves and the quality of their oil—particularly in historic and ancestral centers such as the Atlas Mountains, Anti-Atlas, Souss, Rif, and the highlands between Fez and Meknes. Other notable areas include Ouezzane, Khenifra, Beni Mellal, Marrakech, Agadir, Taza, Nador, and Al Hoceima. Traditionally, olive oil production was organized on a family level before the sector's large-scale industrialization. Alwana, a Trademark of Women In the remote reaches of Jbala, particularly in Taounate, a rare and highly prized oil known as Alwana has long been produced exclusively by women. This tradition, passed down from mother to daughter, involves a unique method of extraction reminiscent of argan oil production in the Souss, also traditionally overseen by women. In the sprawling olive groves of Taounate—and in areas such as Taza and Nador—it is customary to dedicate a portion of each harvest to Alwana. This oil, a hallmark of female heritage, is a vital element of the region's cultural and culinary identity, contributing to its international reputation. In Taounate, Hayat Ezzouak is one of the women who has mastered this centuries-old craft. She leads the Aïn Leila cooperative, where she personally oversees every stage of production. «This is how we saw our mothers and grandmothers do it. We learned through observation and practice», she tells Yabiladi. Hayat explains that the olives used for Alwana are harvested before reaching full maturity—a key difference from conventional oil production, which requires ripe fruit. «We pick early, before the usual season begins», she says. The process then moves to the roasting phase—a crucial and delicate step that determines the oil's final quality. «We roast our olives while they're still 'green,' in a way—but not just any way», explains Hayat Ezzouak. «We use traditional clay ovens, which we first fire up and then clear of the cooled embers before roasting begins. This step requires a lot of patience and care, as it usually lasts through the night. What we end up with is a fruit that's been dried of all its water—it looks a bit like dates and is mainly prized for its oil». Once dried, the olives are crushed using a stone—a step that's just as physical as it is essential in the preparation of Alwana. «After that», Hayat continues, «we use the traditional brazier, or mejmar, placing a clay pot on top to knead the crushed substance, gradually adding water. The paste is worked as it heats». The resulting mixture is then used to «extract the oil using baskets made of doum (palm fiber) and a special manual pressing mechanism designed for Alwana. It mainly consists of two wooden boards to filter the oil. The final step is bottling the oil, which has a thick texture, a distinctive color, and a unique flavor that pairs well with both dishes and snacks». A Success That Goes Beyond the Local Despite the challenges, Hayat insists that «regardless of the season's yield or the impact of the climate, Alwana production is essential to our region—even if only a single liter is made. In our hometown, it's unthinkable to go through a harvest season without producing this variety», she says. Not only does it ensure a vital local product, it also helps preserve a centuries-old tradition—one that continues to draw national and even international attention, even as women with the expertise of Hayat become increasingly rare. The price tag also reflects the complexity of the process. «At the last Regional Agriculture Fair, Alwana sold for 200 dirhams per liter, while conventional olive oil was around 80 dirhams», she notes. «Our local variety is valuable, especially considering how much fruit is needed just to produce a few liters—not to mention the intense manual labor that women put in over several days to make it». Hayat Ezzouak, president of the cooperative, points out that despite the ancient and unique nature of this craft, it still hasn't received the recognition it deserves as a heritage worth preserving. «Today, younger generations unfortunately show less interest in the value of this legacy and the importance of keeping it alive», she tells us. Still, Alwana's success is reaching far beyond its native region. In fact, Hayat says she regularly receives orders from customers across Morocco—and even from abroad. «Having a bottle of this oil at home, especially for those from Taounate or even just from Morocco, feels like bringing a piece of this land with you—a region known for its rich, high-quality olive groves», she says proudly. Preserving Women's Traditional Practices Narjys El Alaoui, ethnologist and founding president of the Association for Rural Techniques of the Mediterranean (ATERAM), has dedicated part of her academic research to this women-led knowledge. In a 2007 edition of the anthropological journal Techniques & Culture, titled Time, Body, Technique and Aesthetics, she published an in-depth analysis titled «An Oil Press in Morocco». She highlights the ecological aspect of Alwana's traditional oil extraction process, where «no decanting is required, since the olives have already lost their bitter residues in the heat of the oven». According to El Alaoui, this method is «a clear example of regional, female-centered technical knowledge» and is part of a broader tradition of «women-led oil extraction techniques». She notes that similar methods exist in Taounate, Ouazzane, and the Souss region, where olive oil was traditionally extracted using rudimentary tools and significant physical effort. One such method involves crushing the olives between two stones, placing the resulting paste in cloth, and then applying pressure using stacked stones on a sloped stone slab. Among the various methods she identifies, one involves fresh green-red olives that are crushed by stone, then kneaded and hand-pressed with hot water to extract the oil through decanting. In this process, the olives are crushed between two large elevated stones (such as on a table), with the bottom stone sloped to allow the oil to flow into a terracotta dish placed below—no further intervention needed. Another variation involves cracked green olives, like those used in Alwana, placed in a bowl, with the oil skimmed off using a wool cloth (mendil dial suf). The leftover paste is then placed in baskets and left under a domestic press. In Ouazzane (Zoumi), the paste is trampled inside a tiled basin (ssahrij) set up in the olive grove, where spring or rainwater is added. The oil is then collected using a woolen cloth called sntafa. In the Souss, hand-picked green olives are crushed between stones, steamed in a couscoussier, and pressed by hand. The oil extracted this way is known as «tahlwant», El Alaoui notes, adding that the lack of «modernization» of these processes can only be understood in the broader anthropological context of regions isolated from major trade routes. She emphasizes that in rural communities, «the woman—whether mother or wife—plays a vital role in managing key ingredients like cereals and olive oil. Her social standing, respect, and honor are closely tied to this technical knowledge». To deal with shortages of these essential goods, «women have culturally chosen to produce their own oil, independently, using tools and methods suited to their domestic and family environment». As such, «these rudimentary tools, physical labor, and techniques represent a living memory carried by women—physically (through postures like sitting or bending), technically (building ovens and pottery), spatially (within the home and orchards), temporally (seasonal harvests), and economically (household management)», the researcher concludes.
