Tazegwa

On my journey through the desert, I come across a group of nomads who have set up camp at a small oasis. It is already late and I join them.
I am warmly welcomed and there is sweet, strong tea around the campfire. There is a lot of talking, singing and dancing. Today is a special day.

And then I see her: no, I feel her. An older woman, wrapped in dark cloths - her face barely recognizable. Her presence is simply stunning. And she invites me to celebrate this special day with an ancient ritual, a sacred ceremony.

I follow her into her tent. Herbs are hanging everywhere, small containers with wonderfully fragrant contents in every corner. The gentle wind makes the tent fabric sway in small waves, and with the flickering flames of the campfire, all these objects cast dancing shadows on the fabric.

She motions for me to sit on a cushion and begins to brew her sacred tea. I don't recognize the ingredients, but they smell. Sweet, heavy, mysterious.
She hands me the tea and the ritual begins. I let her guide me, I trust her. I know she is protecting me.

We weren't friends from the start.
And I had also picked up a bottling from the souk in advance (thank you at this point!) - which I would definitely recommend.

My reaction to the first spray was just örks ... what is that supposed to be? I like "weird" fragrances, but this? It smelled like a massively failed attempt at homemade caramel sweets. The pan was too hot and the sugar was left in for far too long. No golden, soft candy - just burnt black gloop.

So off to the shelf, way at the back.
But it didn't leave me in peace. There was something there. Something that I thought might be one of those things that first offend - but then turn into exactly what you love afterwards.

So, after a little wait, the second attempt.

Oh! This time the pan was still way too hot - but at least someone got the sugar out before it was completely black. So I applied a slightly more generous portion ... and waited. And indeed, it turned out to be a really wonderfully soft, warm, sweet caramel. Still a little burnt, though.

I now have a whole bottle, which has also been allowed to mature for a while.
The "burnt" still stands out (in the truest sense of the word!) - but it's not the candy itself, but rather the fire on which the pan stood.

Anyone expecting a gourmand a la Eclaire & co: no. Absolutely not.
If you like a gourmand a la Eclaire: not necessarily, but the vanilla toffee might well appeal.

It's warm, sweet - and still off-putting. I couldn't break him of that habit.
But we have become very good friends after all.

The fragrance has already been described in detail for the rather moderate temperatures that prevail here: I was allowed to test the fragrance in the climate zone in which it is at home. In the desert, at over 40°. I was initially worried that it would be far too heavy and "stuffy" for me in the Sahara (yes, women wear perfume there too ;-) ...)
But no!
It was born in the desert, and that's where it belongs! No more diffuse Christmas market, no more baked goods. All the cookie spices all fade into the background and dates emerge. Sweet, sticky, delicious dates. Contrary to my fears, they are not heavy and sticky, but wonderfully light, delicate and yet intensely sweet.

Is that helpful here in Germany?
Maybe. Maybe it gets that hot a few days a year.
But maybe the fragrance should also be taken on a trip :-)