What Moroccan olives are there and how are they used?

The olive stalls in a Moroccan souk are pure theatre, and I never walk a guest past one without stopping. Picture a long counter mounded with glistening pyramids in a dozen shades — bright green, dusky violet-pink, wrinkled black, some studded with red chilli, some flecked with herbs, some swimming in golden oil with slivers of preserved lemon and garlic. The aroma of brine, herbs and citrus hits you before you even arrive.

Morocco is one of the world's great olive countries, and the signature variety is the Picholine Marocaine — a versatile green olive used both for the table and for oil. The colours you see tell you the ripeness: green olives are picked young and taste firm and grassy, the violet or pink ones are mid-ripe and mellow, and the black are fully ripe, soft and rich. Vendors cure and dress them in endless styles — cracked green olives with garlic and chilli, black olives rolled in herbs, violet olives with preserved lemon and a slick of argan or olive oil.

At the table they're constant. A little dish of olives appears the moment you sit down, they're piled into the famous chicken-and-olive tagine, scattered through salads and bakoula, and pressed into the deep green olive oil you'll be offered with bread and a sprinkle of cumin or za'atar at breakfast. They are snack, condiment, ingredient and ritual all at once.

My favourite thing is to let guests graze across an olive stall, tasting four or five styles, then pick a bag of the chilli-and-preserved-lemon green olives to nibble back at the riad with mint tea. Buy a bottle of good local olive oil too — Morocco's is excellent and absurdly underrated abroad.