Rice Tabbouleh {Gluten-Free}

Fresh and verdant, light and lemony, there is so much to love about tabbouleh, the classic Middle Eastern salad.  And as much as I enjoy the well-known parsley and bulgur version, today I am sharing a recipe for a rice-based tabbouleh, which is just as lovely as the original, but even easier and gluten-free!

Today, I am blogging over at the beautiful Middle Eastern food blog, MidEats.  To find my recipe for rice tabbouleh, click here!

Sahtain!

Related Posts:

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*Middle Eastern Tomato Cucumber Salad

Shared on Real Food Wednesday.

Bint Rhoda's Real Food Advice for Keeping Sanity in the Kitchen

After a generation or two of shortcut cooking, we have sadly lost the art of keeping a kitchen.  We have lost the rhythms of yesteryear, when food preparation was a central part of our lives.  Now, instead we have two approaches to food:  we have either overly complicated cooking (cooking as hobby, something gourmet and worthy of Instagram shots, something that we love to talk about and watch performed for us), or we have fast-food cooking, where we attempt to produce food in our kitchen with as little investment of energy and time as possible.

We know the problem of the second approach:  Little invested, little reaped.  Anyone who has survived for more than a day on junk food and processed food knows how quickly your health begins to fall apart.

But the other problem, the problem of approaching food as hobby, has just as devastating an effect on our cooking.  It is too overwhelming to produce gourmet food every day, let alone for three meals a day, and then for a family.  Never mind adding in snacks and drinks.  It is just too much, so we are stuck.

But there are ways to get yourself unstuck.  You just have to change your approach to food.  Here are a few practical pieces of advice for how to keep your sanity in a real food, traditional kitchen.  Many of these are the things that my mother taught me to do when I was growing up, and others come from my own experiments in the kitchen.

1.  When you cook, cook big.  Since the very beginning, I learned that if I cook enough for two days, I only have to cook half as much. That seemed like a really great deal to me.  Half the prep time, half the cook time, half the clean up time. Once I got into cooking more and more real food, I found that this wasn't just a time-saving technique, but really the only way that I could manage to keep up with all of my kitchen tasks. Aim to serve every meal to your family twice, if your family is small enough.   If boiling eggs, boil a dozen.  If making rice, make a huge pot, enough for leftovers and then some.  If cooking up beans, freeze extras for later.

2.  On days that your family is eating leftovers, use your kitchen time to prep other things.  On my "leftover" days, I use the extra time to work on other tasks, like replenishing my kombucha and kefir, restocking my yogurt, making labani or kefir cheese, baking bread or crackers, or making a special treat.

3.  Empty you fridge before you fill it.  This might seem like common sense, but it can be often overlooked.  Try to use up as much as you can before you refill your fridge (or pantry).  Yes, every family has a few items that we feel we must have at all times (butter! cheese! apples!) and it may be an emergency if you run out of these items, but try, as best as you can, to make sure that you have really used up all of your food before you do a full restock of your fridge.  This will prevent less waste all around - less cooking, less shopping, less food waste.  

4.  Make a master grocery list. Type it up and organize the ingredients in a way that makes sense to you.  I have a fresh produce section, a meat and dairy section, a dry goods section, and a place to write down my week's meals.   Print it off every week (or laminate it and reuse it), and use that to help keep your kitchen stocked.

5.  Repeat after me:  Real food doesn't have to be complicated.  Real food doesn't have to be gourmet.  Focus on the quality of the ingredients rather than how "foodie" it seems.   Think of your week ahead and set limits for yourself in the kitchen.  Find a few easy, nourishing recipes that everyone in your family likes and make them regularly.  

6. Choose dishes that stretch, instead of single portion foods.  Think casseroles, pots of soup, stews. Round out dishes by serving each of these main dishes with a veggie, a salad and/or some bread.  Not only does this stretch out your food, but I also like to think of this as hospitality food.  If you have a giant casserole in the oven, you can ask that friend to stay for dinner.

7. Roast a big hunk of meat a week.  Roasts have a high yield for minimum effort.  For example, one week, make a large pot roast.  Another week, roast a pork shoulder.  The third week, roast a couple of chickens.

8.  Consider centering your meals around one cuisine.  This is the secret of traditional cooks!  I know, I know, we live in a world where we can have exotic ingredients, condiments, and flavors from around the world, and we certainly do enjoy that.  The down-side of this is that you end up with half used ingredients, and far too many ingredients filling up your pantry.  I find that as I focused on developing a pantry centered around traditional ingredients for one cuisine, made sure my pantry was stocked with those ingredients, and developed simple recipes centered around those ingredients, planning, shopping and cooking became much simpler.

9.  Keep a couple of extremely easy, or extremely fast meals in mind, and keep the ingredients stocked.  For example, I can always make mujjadara, because I always have rice, lentils, and onions, and bone broth in my freezer.  For a fast meal, I always keep a few cans of canned wild salmon.  I can make salmon cakes in ten minutes (and my children are in training to learn how to make this on their own! A woman can dream, right?).

10.  Teach your family to eat (and be thankful for!) what is available rather than what they want.  If you are only buying local, and buying what is in season, this lesson is already evident (no, honey, there are no strawberries.  It is November).  It is so easy to develop a restaurant attitude in a home kitchen, there is so much to be gained by reorienting your and your family's relationship to food.  The gains: more efficient use of food and time, with translates for us, very practically into more time to play with my kids and enough money for quality ingredients.  But even more than these practical gains, this change in attitude changes our relationship with food.  This simple stand against a me-centered consumer attitude toward food (What do I want to eat?  What do I feel like having?) is gently broken when we look away from ourselves and instead look at what we have, what is in our pantry, what the ground has recently produced, and gratefully eat that which we have already been given.


And One More Really Important Piece of Advice . . . 

11.  At least once a week, take a break from the kitchen.  This might mean take-out or a picnic lunch, or a meal with a friend, or leftovers from the freezer.  Remember, cooking real food is real work.  One way that you can honor the real work of the kitchen is by stepping away from it on a regular basis.  I find that when I don't honor this, I run the risk of burnout.


What else do you do to keep your kitchen sane and happy?   

A New Collaboration!

Friends,  I am so happy to share some good news with you. We all need a little good news, right? 

If you are following me on Facebook, you probably already know some of my news (and if you are not a follower, you can start following me by finding the link on the right).  I am honored to announce that I will be writing as a contributing blogger on the wonderful Middle Eastern food blog MidEats. 

For me, this is a full-circle moment.

A few years ago, when I started learning about the traditional food movement, I read many books, and so many traditional food blogs.  The first traditional food blog that I read was Nourished Kitchen, and I was instantly captivated by Jenny McGruther's beautiful photography, simple and wholesome food philosophy, and her incredible recipes (her Salmon Baked in Cream and Herbs, prepared by my dear friend, hooked me into traditional foods forever!). What drew me to the traditional foods movement was that so much of it was already familiar to me, because it followed the basic outline of the way my mother and grandmother taught me how to eat.  Arabs have always eaten this way, I thought to myself.  But even though I saw a few recipes here and there, such as kibbeh nayyeh (a Middle Eastern raw meat and bulgur dish), most of the recipes I read came from elsewhere around the globe and did not center around the Arab table.   

Where are all of the Arab traditional foodies? I wondered. 

And then, one day I found this guest post on the Nourished Kitchen blog:  Get Freekeh with Ancient Grains: Braised Lamb with Freekeh Pilaf. The writer, Heba, wrote beautifully about this ancient Middle Eastern grain (which I happen to adore, but that this another post).  When I read this guest post, I thought:  Aha!  I have found my people!

Heba, along with another blogger, Brenda, are founders of MidEats, an informative and beautiful blog which celebrates traditional Middle Eastern foods.  Both advocates for real food, they write to preserve their heritage, and share delicious recipes, interviews and stories of their Egyptian culture.

So I am honored that they have chosen me to be a part of their writing team.  We have a lot of exciting posts planned, and I hope that you will come and visit me over at MidEats and check out our newest posts.  You can read Heba's most recent post on hot pink (beet) hummus, and an interview with  Egyptian paleo food blogger, Rehaam of Steak and Sass.

Leftover Saver: Curried Lemon Chicken Pieces

There are two kinds of people: those who love and those who hate leftovers.

My mother insisted on cooking huge batches of food, so we ate leftovers regularly.  But we didn't have a microwave.  Everything had to be reheated on the stove-top.  Ever tried to reheat roasted chicken pieces on a stove top?  It can be a bit challenging.  The chicken can come out very dry and tasteless. And since we did not grow up in the land of boneless skinless chicken breasts, all of our chicken was cooked on the bone, usually roasted.  Then the next day, my mother would pick the bones clean, save the bones for stock, and fry up the meat a second time, seasoning it generously with her stash of Middle Eastern curry powder and finish it with a splash of lemon juice.

So I grew up to love leftover chicken.  I think I may even love this more than the original meal of roast chicken.  I just can't stop picking at the bowl of juicy, caramelized chicken pieces, flavored with the sweet and mildly spicy curry powder.  The final squeeze of lemon juice brightens up the whole dish, balancing out the flavors of the curry.

If you have leftover chicken, this whole dish will take you five minutes, start to finish.  If you don't have any leftover chicken, I do like to use boneless chicken thighs here for a very quick dish.  For a fabulous sandwich, serve this tucked into a loaf of pita bread.  Otherwise, serve it next to rice, a plate of green beans - really, whatever you have in your kitchen.  It is as forgiving as it is delicious.

How to Make Fluffy, Flavorful Rice (Like an Arab)

Sticky rice, fluffy rice, gummy, gluey rice, bland, wet or crunchy rice.  I have made all of these things.

I remember rice as my first culinary challenge out of college.  If I can just cook rice, I thought, I can feed myself.  And while the instructions on the sack always seemed so simple, so straight forward, the results were rarely good.  My Chinese roommate had a little electric rice cooker that she swore by, and I loved the beautifully steamed rice that she produced, but even that little gadget alluded my attempts.  For a while, I gave up and accepted half-soggy, half-crunchy bland rice.

It was very sad.

Because we Arabs love our rice!  Like our friends farther east, from India all the way to Japan, we love our rice.  Our rice style is more similar to Indian rice, and every time I dig into a vibrant dish of biryani, it reminds me of home.  Arabs pride themselves in producing light, fluffy rice, with a nutty and rich flavor, well seasoned enough to stand on its own.  We love to serve mounds of fluffy white rice, warmly spiced with the flavors of allspice, turmeric, cinnamon or nutmeg, topped with buttery pine nuts or almonds fried in ghee.  For a simple childish favorite, we serve this with just a scoop of fresh plain yogurt, and we call it rooz ma' laban.  Please, mama, we would beg my mother, can we skip the sauce and just have rooz ma' laban?

Can you blame me?

After watching my mother, badgering her with questions, and then (this was the hard part), actually doing what she told me to do, I learned how to make a decent pot of rice.  If you want to make delicious rice that will wake up any basic fish, chicken or steak meal, look no further.

How to Make Arabic Coffee, or Boiled Coffee with Cardamom

Nothing takes me home like the sight of my father standing over the kitchen stove, making a pot of Arabic coffee.  He stands over the stove, heating water in a small metal pot, waiting for the right moment to spoon in the mounding spoonfuls of coffee.  Then he stirs the boiling coffee down, and lifts the pot, stirring again, then returns to the pot to the flame.  It's a little dance, to boil the coffee without overflowing the pot.  The rich smell of coffee fills the house, scented lightly with the sweet aroma of cardamom.  He pours the little cups, as small as a child's play teacup, and carries one to my mother. They sit and sip in the afternoon sun, reaching for a bowl of chocolates.This is the daily afternoon ritual in my family home, and it is a ritual repeated all over the Middle East.

Savory Palestinian Cauliflower Pancakes

Any day that my Palestinian mother fried up a batch of these garlic and onion-scented cauliflower pancakes was a good day for me.  Served with a pile of Arabic bread, some fresh cut vegetables and olives, these savory omelette-like pancakes, full of softly-cooked cauliflower and fried in pungent olive oil, are enough to make you a believer in cauliflower.  Unless, that is, you already are.  In that case, ahlan wa-sahlan.

The Jewel of Middle Eastern Pastries: Honey-Walnut Baklava

Crispy, crackling layers of paper-thin dough, soaked in butter,  stuffed with a rich nutty filling, and then drizzled with a honey-sweet syrup, baklawa is the crown jewel of Middle Eastern pastries. 



This composed pastry dish actually harkens back to the Ottomon empire, so you will find variations on baklava throughout the Mediterannean, from eastern Europe to the far reaches of the Middle East.  The word baklava, then, is of Ottomon origin, but Arabs have adopted and adapted it to their tongue, so I grew up calling this pastry ba'lawa.

Ba'lava is a layered pastry made from phyllo dough.  Phyllo dough is an unleavened paper-thin dough, made with flour, water, a little oil and vinegar.  You can purchase this in the freezer section of your local grocery story, but I am sure that with a little elbow grease, you can make it yourself.  The ba'lawa is built with layers of buttered phyllo dough, and then a couple of thick layers of crushed nuts.  The pastry remains unsweetened until after baking, when a sweet syrup is poured over top, and allowed to soak for several hours or overnight, to set.

My Palestinian Grandmother's Orange Chiffon Cake

Pictured with my grandmother's hand-crocheted lace.

Teta, can you make a cake for me? 

Yes, habibti, yes, my dear.  Let's make cake.  And into our kitchen we would go, where my grandmother would pull out eggs, oranges, flour, sugar, yogurt.  With a little twinkle in her eye, she would tell me that brandy would make the cake delicious. 

My mother learned how to make American-style cakes, chocolate cakes and yellow layer cakes, cakes that looked like bunnies and cakes that were frosted and sprinkled with coconut.  My mother read English cookbooks, studied them, jotting down her notes in the margins in Arabic. 

But my dear grandmother, my teta, who as far as I know never read a cookbook in her life, only knew how to make one cake:  orange cake.  Why can't you make another flavor, I would ask her.  This is the cake I know how to make, she would tell me.  She would pull out a bowl, a spoon, and a mug.  A mug!  No measuring spoons?  No measuring cup?!  She used a clear glass mug to measure out her flour, her oil, her sugar.  And so she beat the egg whites, and stirred the yolks into the sugar and the yogurt.   I watched in awe, wondering how she knew what to add, and how much to add, and would this cake really turn out?  I kept watching, and waiting, and was gifted with witnessing the miracle:  the cake baked, the heady fragrance of orange slowly blossomed in the kitchen until the cake swelled and browned, slightly crispy at the edges. 

Palestinian-Style Stuffed Cabbage Rolls, or Malfouf

Sometimes a little time produces a lot of joy. 

For us, this is a dish of joy.  Palestinians are known for their love of stuffing things with rice and meat, and if you are ever so fortunate to find yourself in a Palestinian's home, chances are good that you will be invited to share a meal like this. Garlicky and lemony, these tender rolls of cabbage filled with spiced meat and rice play a special role in the cast of dinner dishes that rotate through the Palestinian kitchen.

Behind us are the days of cousa mahshi, or stuffed summer squash; now, the cabbage beckons.  I had one last beautiful one from our final delivery of our CSA, and I considered its destiny.  It took some time for me to build up the gumption to create this meal, but once I did, I discovered that while this stuffed dish takes time, it is actually less fussy and easier than most of the other stuffed dishes. Malfouf, (or malfoof), is the Arabic word for cabbage, and this dish is so ubiquitous that if you way you are having cabbage for dinner, everyone will understand that you are referring to this dish.

Interview: Real Food is Real Work

Last week, I sat down with my dear friend, Laura Fabrycky, who writes for the Missio blog at the Washington Institute for Faith, Vocation and Culture.

Here's the thing about Laura: she asks the good questions: the hard, the important questions:

Why did you start a food blog? How is yours different than others? What have you discovered about yourself, the larger story you inhabit, and life in general because of it?

 

Do you think of yourself as an exile?  How much of your exploration of food is an exploration of your own identity, a passing on of an identity to your children?

 

Wow.

 

It was hard work to answer these questions, and at times, even smarted a little bit.  We had to do the interview twice (due to technical problems with the first recording), but even that had its advantages.  For me, it was a time to step back from the work itself, from the recipes, the writing, the community, and to look into my heart instead. 

Why do I engage in the real work of real food, when I don't have to?

How has engaging with the world through real food deepened my faith?

Read my answers here, in the interview: Real Food is Real Work.



I am so grateful that Laura made me ask myself these questions, made me find my answers for them.  But really, for me, this is just the start of the conversation.  I hope that you will continue to join in the conversation with me. And so I ask you, too:  How would you answer these questions?

On Thanksgiving: Food as Identity-Forming Story

 

All morning long, the family cooks work in the kitchen -- trussing the turkey, tearing bread for stuffing, rolling out pie crusts -- and the familiar scents of Thanksgiving begin to drift out of the oven: sage and pumpkin, turkey and yeasty bread.  Thanksgiving is not like any other meal that we enjoy throughout the year, is it?  We have set aside this day to enjoy eating particular foods, foods that we sometimes reserve to eat only at this time of the year, or at least, that is the only day when we eat all of those dishes with our family.

Thanksgiving is probably the one holiday in America that focuses exclusively on food:  on creating a table of bountiful, delicious food, and then enjoying it wholeheartedly. You don't have to buy cards or wrap presents, you don't have to churn through a bunch of holiday-themed activities or try to create and then sustain family traditions.  The goal is simple:  gather around the table with loved ones, give thanks, and then feast. 

Is this our culture's last ceremonial meal?  Perhaps. There is something about it that reminds me of Pasach, of the Passover meal shared in Jewish homes, to mark the great exodus.  Like the Jews who celebrate with Passover, we eat particular foods, on a particular day, to remember a time of  great need and great redemption.  We eat the foods, and we remember, and we explain them to our children. 

On Thanksgiving, the foods that we eat tell a story - a story of where we came from, and who we are.  This is an identity-forming meal, and one that certainly shaped my own sense of cultural identity when I was growing up.