Bulgur

This is a flexible recipe that I frequently rely on when I want an easy, nourishing main dish. I vary the combinations each time I make it. See the cooking notes for specifics on cooking grains in this chapter, and pages 110 to 111 for cooking beans, if you choose to use dried beans.

This makes a splendid companion to curried vegetable dishes, as in the menu suggested here.

Soy Free Tabbouleh, tabouli, tabouleh, taboolee . . . however you wanna spell it, it spells YUM! It has a clean, light flavor that just tastes healthy. If you have a food processor, now is the time to use it.

Fiber-rich bulgur and protein-packed shrimp in this mix will keep you full for hours—but it takes mere minutes to make.

We've been making tabbouleh for years, but when Fran's Iranian friend Parvine Latimore made it for a special party, we both changed our recipes. Parvine used extra lemon juice and more fresh herbs than we were used to. The result was incredible—a delicious taste of lemon with every bite of grain and a burst of freshness from the blend of fresh herbs with every mouthful.

Wheat berries are whole wheat kernels that become appealingly chewy when cooked, and bulgur, a Middle Eastern staple, is crushed dried wheat kernels (best known as the basis for tabbouleh). Together they make a nutritious and satisfying salad (the grains are hearty and filling) that can stand alone as a meal or work as a side dish with grilled lamb chops or crispy seared fish. I’ve called for celery hearts because I love their sweetness, but regular stalks of celery work just fine.

Nothing says "garden fresh" like a handful of aromatic herbs, and while you may be tempted to take bulgur down the well-traveled tabbouleh road, a little deviation can be an excellent thing. In this case, cilantro steps up to the plate, replacing parsley (typical of tabbouleh) and adding distinct flavor to an already intoxicating amount of mint. Toasting almonds in olive oil and then adding both to the mix enhances the nuttiness of the whole grain.

Okay, you caught us: There's no sliced bread here, and you'll need a knife and fork. But this bulgur and grilled-vegetable salad has so much gusto that it simply cries out for a daring presentation to match.

Who knew rolls could be so, well, adorable? But of course looks aren’t everything: They’ve got substance, too, with a satisfyingly salty crust—flaky sea salt has fantastic texture—embracing an enjoyably chewy, pretzel-like interior.

In Turkish cookery there's a distinctive group of dishes known as güveç, which take their name from the earthenware pot in which they are cooked—in the same way that the tagine does in Morocco. In rural Anatolia the cooking pots may be sealed and buried in the ashes of a fire to cook slowly overnight—or, only slightly less romantically, in the local baker's oven. If you don't have a clay pot, a heavy-based cast-iron casserole dish will serve almost as well. Güveç dishes encompass all sorts of meat or poultry cooked with legumes, vegetables and fruits. My addition of star anise is not remotely Turkish, but it adds a wonderful layer of aniseed flavor. This güveç is spicy with a lingering sweetness, so serve it with a light salad or braised wild greens. A dollop of yogurt would also be delicious. Sucuk is a spicy Turkish sausage and can be found in Turkish or Middle Eastern butchers and some specialist delis.

Regardless of your foraging skills, you can experience the abundance of the woods with these delectable parcels, which combine the nutty chew of bulgur with rich toasted pine nuts, sweet currants, and smoky trout that could have come from a nearby brook—all neatly wrapped up in a lettuce leaf. And because they're so portable, you can easily enjoy them outdoors on a picnic blanket.

For a substantial vegetarian spin on köfte(a kind of Middle Eastern meatball), we beefed up grated zucchini with fresh herbs and mashed chickpeas. The accompanying pilaf, which uses both beets and their greens, is brilliantly colored and gets a joyous crunch from slivered almonds.

Most veggie burgers must have self-esteem issues, since they're always pretending to be something they're not. But these bulgur burgers don't try to hide their meatless nature and instead celebrate their grain-centric origins with wonderful texture and a hint of Middle Eastern spice.

Bulgur is an earthy, nutty grain that becomes fluffy once cooked. It's an ideal canvas for aromatic and sweet flavors.

There have been Lebanese living in Latin America for more than 100 years, and the community in Mexico is particularly large, so creating a Mexican version of tabbouleh is not as odd as it might seem. This version is less time-consuming than the original, because cilantro can be chopped up, stems and all, whereas parsley leaves need to be picked off the stems.

Turkish cooking might sound exotic, but it's easy. Most of the ingredients are familiar, and combining them in new ways makes for an exciting and different way to eat. This is an excellent side salad for lamb chops. For a great small-plates dinner party menu that's modern Turkish cooking at its best, pick up the May issue of Bon Appétit.

Removing the typical cucumber from tabbouleh leaves plenty of room for fresh honeydew or any cool, sweet melon in this summer-inspired departure.

Burgul Bi Bandoura This hearty side dish is typical of everyday cooking in the Lebanese and Syrian mountains, where cracked wheat, or bulgur, is far more abundant and less expensive than rice, which is reserved for special-occasion dishes.

Kibbet Yatkeen These flavorful patties, which contain no eggs, are denser and more healthful than typical Western pancakes. In Syria, bulgur supplies the body in these patties, but in America some cooks discovered that oats make a suitable substitute. Of course, traditionalists insist on bulgur. Syrians tend to prefer their pumpkin pancakes savory and somewhat spicy, while Sephardim from Turkey and Greece generally like them slightly sweet. These might be served at a Syrian Hanukkah meal alongside bazargan (Syrian bulgur relish), yerba (stuffed grape leaves), spinach salad, and rice with pine nuts.

Editor's note: The recipe and introductory text below are excerpted from Joan Nathan's book The Foods of Israel Today. Nathan also shared some helpful cooking tips exclusively with Epicurious, which we've added at the bottom of the page. To read more about Nathan and Israeli cuisine, click here. According to the Ten Commandments, "On the seventh day thou shalt rest," which means that no cooking can be done on the Sabbath. This tradition is the reason Israel is truly the center of the world for cholent, an overnight stew. Almost all Jewish families have brought their own unique versions — with Hungarian smoked goose breast, Brazilian black beans, Moroccan rice, Bukharan turkey giblets and raisin-stuffed cucumbers, or Polish barley and meat. A dish that has experienced a rebirth even among secular Israelis in the last few years, cholent is often served as a centerpiece main course for parties, usually blending several traditions in one exciting creation. Eons ago, needing a dish that could be kept warm for the Sabbath, Jewish cooks came up with an overnight stew, the ingredients for which varied depending on where they lived. The stew was tightly sealed, often with a paste-like dough, and cooked before the Sabbath began, then left overnight in the embers to warm until the next day. During World War II, before Israelis had proper ovens, the cholent often was simmered over the small flame of a kerosene stove, the lid covered with two heavy bricks. The word cholent comes from the French chaud, meaning "warm," and lent, meaning "slow." In Israel, it is also called hamim, Hebrew for "warm." Like outdoor grilling, preparing cholent seems to have become the Israeli man's domain. It is served on every Israeli army base on Saturday, even in small military units on their own at lookout posts throughout the country, since the army, which officially observes the dietary laws, must serve a traditional Sabbath meal. This Hebronite hamim recipe was given to me by Amnon Lipkin Shachak, a former Israeli army chief of staff. He combines the Ashkenazic basic beans and barley with Sephardic sausages and the long-cooking eggs in their shells called huevos haminadav to make an innovative Sabbath dish from Hebron, the city from which part of his family hails. According to him, the recipe changes each time he makes it, depending on what he can find in the cupboard. This version requires kishke (a traditional delicacy made of flour and fat stuffed into sausage casing, today obtainable from Jewish specialty stores) and the robust and highly aromatic eastern Mediterranean spice combination of baharat (see Tips, below).