6 Mar 2016

summer tabouli

I remember the first time I had tabouli as a young kid. Or rather, I remember standing in my mother’s kitchen with the brown pantry doors open, looking at a box of gritty burghul, and feeling sorry for mum. Because she’s tried something new, this gritty stuff served with loads of raspy parsley, and none of us seemed to like it. Or at least — and you can tell by my choice of words, gritty and raspy — that I didn’t. But I felt bad, that mum had tried to be adventurous and we failed her.

This memory also makes me think of the ingredients and foodstuffs that, in the decades since, have found their way more successfully into our pantries. Olive oil is out of the medicinal cupboard and into the pantry, in many incarnations. Spices and herbs have proliferated and represent many cuisines of the world; there’s more than just Keen’s curry now! There’s more varieties of pasta than you can poke a spaghetti strand at. And there may not be burghul, but there’s couscous and freekah and the now-commonplace quinoa. Who’d have guessed!

But back to tabouli. In theory, it’s a lovely, refreshing idea — and a perfect solution to the abundance of cucumbers coming out of dad’s garden, and my own healthy supply of tomatoes. But something had to be done about the burghul. I remembered a recipe using brown rice, but on warm summer days, brown rice seems too heavy (and takes too long to cook).

So I’ve substituted wholemeal couscous, which takes a mere blink to make, and is soft and definitely not gritty. While it’s softening, you can cut up the green and the red — these are the colour of summer, vibrant green beans and basil, and ruby-rich tomatoes.

I’ve been using spring onions, and great handfuls of baby-tender curly parsley and basil; then lots of juicy, seedy cucumbers from dad. The tomatoes are the pure red of a roma-style mamma mia, or the darker black krim or stripey orange big beryl (I have a girl crush on her this season!). I’ve also been adding lightly steamed green beans (because I have loads of those) and occasionally, some juicy red capsicum for some extra crunch. Then a drizzle of olive oil, a good squeeze of lemon juice; and strangely, never salt – all this homegrown produce tastes so fresh and cool, I don’t need any seasoning.

I got all art-director fancy for the top photo, arranging the tomatoes in a line; but mostly my tabouli is a big jumble, more like this:

8 comments:

  1. Oh it looks delicious, great idea to use cous cous. Perfect for the end of the season flavours. CJ xx

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    1. yes CJ - and I'm about at the last of my tomatoes now, so I'm really savouring them.

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  2. A perfectly made, fresh tabouli can be a very wonderful thing... so different to the greying, soggy stuff often sold in salad bars and supermarkets. Love your addition of couscous.

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    1. my tabouli is not gritty but definitely not soggy either - ugh! the couscous is light an fluffy.

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  3. All I can say is...great minds think alike! I've had tabouli on the brain today and included it in a nutrition and cooking program for young soldiers (work related stuff). It will not taste as lovely as yours with beautiful homemade produce though :)

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    1. it would be the easiest thing to cook for young people (any people) - hardly counts as cooking at all, really. I'm sure yours will be just as fresh and green :-)

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  4. Oh your poor Mum! How very progressive of her though! Isn't it incredible how tastes and foods have changed. I am not a huge tabouli fan but your version looks very tasty. Steamed green beans are a perfect addition too.

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  5. it is amazing to think of the variety we have in our pantries and tastes now. thanks jane - sneaking the green beans in is as much about more variety as it is about using them up :-)

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