Tabouli

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving this year. Hope you did as well!

Our meal was quite traditional — inspired by the recipes from The Pioneer Woman. Her brined roasted turkey and yukon gold mashed potatoes were a big hit! After all, that’s one of reasons Ree won the Thanksgiving Throwdown with Bobby Flay.

Before the meal, we enjoyed these fantastic Mediterranean-style deviled eggs that my brother-in-law Ziad made. These olive-studded deviled eggs are a tradition in the Shuman house and I would highly recommend! You won’t find any mayonnaise in these eggs, instead you add a squirt of yellow mustard to the mashed yolks along with chopped green olives with pimientos (Ziad used Goya brand) and moisten with some of the olive juice. I liked how he put the yolk mixture in a large ziploc bag to transport to our house, and then cut off a corner to squirt into the cooked egg whites. Once all two dozen eggs were filled, he sprinkled with smoked paprika. Delicious!

Thanksgiving day was all-American, but the day after belonged to Lebanon. No Black Friday shopping for us. Instead, we spent the day making all sorts of Lebanese dishes. My father-in-law Tarek spotted some leftover fresh thyme that I had used in my stuffing and had an idea to make one of his favorite appetizers: fresh thyme or zaatar salad. In Lebanon, you’ll find larger leaf thyme or zaatar that’s often served as a salad, much like fattoush or rocca salad (similar to arugula). But here in the U.S., the smaller sprigs of thyme are more common, which make it ideal for the appetizer.

To make the fresh thyme appetizer, you’ll need 1 bunch of fresh thyme, 1-2 green onions, 1 lemon, olive oil and pomegranate molasses or syrup — which I’ve written about before and you just have to buy! Some times Whole Foods will carry this Lebanese staple, but they’ve been frequently out of stock. You might find in some of the larger supermarkets (Middle Eastern section), otherwise, you’ll need to visit a Middle Eastern market, order it online or make your own with pomegranate juice. Here’s a recipe from Alton Brown that’s worth trying. We’re lucky to have several great Lebanese markets here in Chicago where I buy pomegranate molasses — which has become quite the trendy ingredient. My husband predicts it’s the new balsamic vinegar. Just you wait.

Here’s what you do: Strip off the leaves of thyme sprigs and chop, slice the green onions and add, toss in a dressing made with fresh lemon juice, pomegranate molasses and olive oil. Scoop up with pita bread. It’s such a bright, refreshing flavor – quite unique to anything else. You can make it without pomegranate syrup, but I think it’s a defining flavor, so I highly recommend!

Our mezze included spinach pies and cheese manoushe, that we picked up at Sanabel Bakery on Kedzie Street in Chicago.

Lebanese spiced lamb pizza lahm bi ajeen…

that we cut into slices like pizza.

Our dinner featured grilled chicken wings marinated in a garlicky lemon juice and olive oil mixture with lots of sumac. The wings were served with toum, a Lebanese garlic sauce that’s as common as ketchup in the U.S. We also made tabouli and hummus, of course.

My nephew Kareem loves to make what his dad calls a Lebanese taco — a romaine lettuce leaf spread with hummus and topped with tabouli. It was a rather nice creation I must admit.

What a wonderful blend of cultures during this American holiday.

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Tagged as: deviled eggs, fresh thyme salad, hummus, tabouli, zaatar

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I always smirk a bit when I see “tambouli salad” in a deli case or on a salad bar here in the United States. Nice try, but that’s far from authentic Lebanese tabbouleh. The proportions are all wrong — parsley should dominate, not the bulgur. Maybe we’re just not used to eating so much parsley. This Mediterranean herb is often dismissed as a table garnish. But parsley is a nutritional powerhouse, rich in vitamins A (beta carotene), C and K, and packed with health-promoting flavonoids. Plus, you’ll never come close to the tabbouleh I’ve enjoyed in Lebanon (pictured here) or the version I’ve learned to make myself under the watchful eye of my Lebanese mother-in-law if you skimp on the parsley.

Tabbouleh is one of the most famous of all Lebanese dishes. In fact, this beloved traditional salad is a source of national pride. There’s even a national celebration of tabbouleh each summer in Lebanon. Here’s a poster promoting National Tabbouleh Day in Beiret, which is held at Souk el Tayeb, Lebanon’s first farmers’ market.

tabbouli_poster2

The methods of making tabbouleh vary according to regional or family traditions. But like the Lebanese flag, the basic ingredients and colors never change — the green, red and white are always present. The word tabbouleh comes from the Arabic word Mtabali, which means seasoned. I typically only use salt as my seasoning, but some people in Lebanon prefer a version with additional seasonings. Haalo from Australia (Cook Almost Anything) features a tabbouleh recipe that includes allspice, cinnamon and pepper (and includes some great photos).

I’ve seen Americanized versions of tabbouleh made with couscous — but resist that. You really need bulgur (referred to as burghul in Lebanon), which is a wonderful fiber-rich ingredient — perhaps the original whole grain. You can easily find these cracked wheat kernels in most supermarkets now, or try Middle Eastern markets or natural food stores. I’ve also seen garlic added to some U.S. tabbouleh recipes, but that would be laughable in Lebanon. Tabbouleh is meant to clean the palate and freshen the breath between bites of spicy, garlicky food — so it’s never to contain garlic itself.

Ingredients

1/2 cup bulgur, fine cracked wheat
juice of 4-5 lemons
3 bunches fresh parsley, finely chopped
handful fresh mint, finely sliced (optional)
3 medium tomatoes, diced
6 green onions, thinly sliced (with green stems)
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
salt (to taste)
romaine leaves, for serving

There are various grades of bulgur — fine, medium or coarse. Save the coarse bulgur for making pilafs. You’ll need fine or medium for tabbouleh (I typically use fine or #1 bulgur). I’ve found two different versions of fine bulgur in the Middle Eastern markets in Chicago; you can see that one is much darker than the other. Even though bulgur is considered a “whole grain,” a small part of the bran is sometimes removed during the drying and cracking of the wheat kernel. You can see the differences in color below, the version that is darker includes more of the bran. I used the lighter version for today’s tabbouleh so the specks of white would be more visible.

The recipe I’ve learned to make from my mother-in-law Karam starts with soaking the bulgur in fresh lemon juice (about the juice of 2 lemons). Please don’t use bottled lemon juice — it makes a difference! Let the bulgur soak for 20 minutes or more until all of the liquid is absorbed and the bulgur appears dry. Then fluff with a fork. Some people in Lebanon only rinse the fine bulgur and then dry it — no softening is needed for the fine grade. If you’re using medium bulgur, it’s best to cover it with hot water and let it soften for 30 minutes or longer. Just be sure the water is all absorbed and you squeeze out any excess liquid. The bulgur needs to be dry, nothing is worse than soupy bulgur. I often let the bulgur soak in my mixing bowl while I prepare the parsley.

The most time-consuming part of making tabbouleh is preparing the parsley — washing, drying and hand chopping. But I must admit that I’ve found ways to successfully cut corners. In Lebanon, flat-leaf parsley is typically used and it’s carefully sliced by hand to create hair thin and crisp slivers. Over chopping can bruise the parsley and create a limp, mushy salad. I know this is not so authentic, but I pull out my Cuisinart. I find that if I use curly parsley instead of flat, it stands up better to the food processor. But first, you must thoroughly wash the parsley. I soak the bunches in cold water and pull off the stems, then rinse several times in a colander. The parsley must be extremely dry before putting it in the food processor, so I use a salad spinner to speed the process. Work in batches and gently pulse the Cuisinart until the parsley is coarsely chopped. Don’t keep it running and over-process, the parsley can quickly turn to mush.

Pour the coarsely chopped parsley into your mixing bowl in batches, pick out the random stems that may appear. If you’re adding mint (I don’t always), thinly slice by hand and toss into the parsley. Add the diced tomatoes and sliced green onions and mix well. Squeeze the remaining 2-3 lemons on the mixture, toss, and then add the olive oil. Mixture should be moist but not drenched. Add salt to taste, toss well and enjoy.

Traditionally, tabbouleh is a part of mezze (appetizers) — eaten by hand scooped up with a romaine lettuce leaf, white cabbage or fresh vine leaves.

Here’s a great article about the right and wrong way to make tabbouleh from Anissa Helou. And check out Gherkins & Tomatoes for a bibliography of Arab cooking.