Bulgur

You’ll think you’re at a taverna on the Mediterranean Sea when you bite into this chicken. It’s packed with flavor from lemon, feta cheese, oregano, and kalamata olives.

When your meat-loving guests taste this chili, they’ll be amazed that a meatless dish can be so hearty.

Cooking bulgur with turmeric turns it a bright yellow that contrasts nicely with the red and green of this zesty salad.

Gina: Every once in a while, my girls and I get on a little veggie kick, and they convince me to take a break from meat (amazing what a cheerleader uniform—theirs, not mine, hon—can do to you). This hearty, spicy chili is so satisfying that even Pat—my steak-and-potatoes man—loves it. The secret ingredient, bulgur (also called cracked wheat), thickens the stew when cooked and helps create a “meaty” texture. The addition of canned fire-roasted tomatoes and an unusual mix of spices gives this chili an exotic aroma and plenty of depth. More often than not, this chili is a family affair—Spenser and Shelbi help me cut up all the colorful vegetables and tell me about their respective days, while Pat makes the cornbread that goes so well with the stew, sets the table, and privately mourns the meat that he will not be having for dinner!

Eveline Weyl remembers growing up in France with a green-wheat soup, served every Friday evening. “We called it gruen kern or soupe au blé vert, and it was made, basically, by simmering onions and carrots and using green wheat to thicken the broth,” she told me. “My mother said it was very healthy for us children.” I asked all over for a recipe for this dish but couldn’t find one. Then, watching a Tunisian videographer from Paris taking photographs of his mother making soup, I realized that the soup Tunisians call shorbat freekeh, made with parched wheat, is nearly the same as the green-wheat soup for which I had been searching. Young green wheat is available at select health-food stores these days, and made into juice. Ferik or freekeh is the parched substitute. I like this soup so much that I often use barley, bulgur, wheat berries, or lentils if I can’t find the green wheat. In fourteenth-century Arles, Jews ate many different kinds of grains and legumes. Chickpeas, which came from the Middle East, and green wheat were probably two of them. The original recipe for this soup called for lamb bones, but I prefer a vegetarian version. The tomato paste is, of course, a late addition.

Bulgar, a wheat that has been cooked, cracked, and dried, is used in parts of the Punjab (northwestern India) to make a variety of nutritious pilafs. The coarser-grained bulgar is ideal here. Serve as you would a rice pilaf.

Coarse-ground bulgur is used to make pilaf. About one and a half times the volume of water or stock is needed to cook it. This quick and easy dish is an ideal alternative to rice or potatoes. You may well want to adopt it as an accompaniment to stews, grills, and indeed to all foods that are usually coupled with rice. It is tastier when real chicken or meat stock is used (see page 143), but you can use bouillon cubes, and water alone will do very well.

This grand bulgur pilaf spread throughout the countries that were part of the Ottoman Empire. It is used as a side dish and a stuffing.

This is filling comfort food which fits easily with other dishes. You find it in Turkey and in Arab countries.

This Syrian recipe which combines bulgur with eggplants and the salty, chewy halumi cheese makes a lovely vegetarian main dish.

This is good hot or cold. Serve with yogurt and salads.

Because of its whiteness, this is a festive dish served on the New Year to augur a year full of happiness. It is served hot with rice in winter, and cold in summer.

Serve as an appetizer accompanied, if you like, with a sauce called keema, the recipe for which follows this one.

Armenian dishes are humble and rustic. This one is a party dish which combines everyday ingredients in a complex way. The serving is something of a ritual.

A rustic Lebanese salad.

This is a homely version of the very green parsley-and-mint salad with buff-colored speckles of bulgur wheat you find in all Lebanese restaurants all over the world. Like many items on the standard Lebanese restaurant menu, it was born in the mountain region of Zahlé, in the Bekáa Valley of Lebanon, where the local anise flavored grape liquor arak is produced. Renowned for its fresh air and its natural springs and the river Bardaouni, which cascades down the mountain, the region acquired a mythical reputation for gastronomy. In 1920 two cafés opened by the river. They gave away assorted nuts, seeds, olives, bits of cheese, and raw vegetables with the local arak. Gradually the entire valley became filled with open-air cafés, each larger and more luxurious than the next, each vying to attract customers who flocked from all over the Middle East with ever more varied mezze. The reputation of the local mountain-village foods they offered, of which tabbouleh was one of the jewels, spread far and wide and became a national institution. What started as a relatively substantial salad, rich with bulgur, was transformed over the years into an all-green herby affair. When the first edition of my book came out, I received letters telling me I had too much bulgur in that recipe. One letter from Syria explained that mine was the way people made the salad many years ago, when they needed to fill their stomachs. You see, many of my relatives left Syria for Egypt a hundred years ago, and that was how they continued to make it. The following is a contemporary version.

Kisir is a filling and luscious Turkish country salad. Chili flakes or a chili pepper give it a thrilling zing.

There is a mystique around the preparation of this famous salad. I watched my friend Kamal make it in Beirut, and his main tip was that you must slice, not chop, the parsley, so that it does not get crushed and mushy. Use the fine-ground bulgur, which is available in Middle Eastern stores. These stores and Asian ones also sell parsley in tied bunches that weigh between 7 ounces and 10 ounces with stems. Mix and dress the salad only when you are ready to serve.

I made notes about this recipe and a few others at Haci Abdullah’s restaurant in Istanbul. It is a cool summer soup using rural staples, and it takes only minutes to make.

Bulgur pilaf is an everyday dish in rural Turkey. Bulgur is whole wheat kernels that have been boiled, then dried and ground. In the old days in rural areas, before mechanization, and still today in some parts, it is made collectively. The men harvest the wheat, then the women separate the grain from the chaff. They wash the grain and boil it for hours in huge pots until it splits. It is then dried in the sun, spread out on large sheets laid out on the flat roofs of houses or in the fields. When it is dry and hard, it is taken to be ground in a stone mill. Three types of grind—coarse, medium, and fine—can be found in Middle Eastern stores in this country. The coarse-ground one is the best for pilaf, but the medium-ground one, which is the most widely available, will also do. The amount of bulgur here is quite large and enough for 2 chickens. You can make it in advance and reheat it in the oven before serving.

Kisir is a salad from Gaziantep. You need the fine-ground (not medium) bulgur, which you can find in Middle Eastern stores. The chili pepper gives it a thrilling zing but you can leave it out. Serve the salad with little lettuce leaves that can be used as scoops.

Bulgur is delicious with lightly browned onion and cabbage. The green beans add a companionable flavor and texture.

The contrast of whole grain and pasta makes for a very satisfying side dish. You can also make this by substituting whole grain couscous or quinoa for the bulgur. Serve this with Baked Barbecue Tofu and Peppers (page 141) and a tossed salad for an easy, hearty meal.