The magic of mujadara

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Mujadara, aka majadrah or megadarra

Shortly after I started working at my current company, I noticed that my coworkers were under a spell. Every Thursday around noon, they would murmur something like “majadah” and drift, in a small cloud of humanity, toward the building elevator. After a few weeks I figured out that the cafe on the ground floor of the building, which generally turned out Mediterraneanish salads and sandwiches expertly tailored to the office crowd (not to mention a mean egg-and-bacon breakfast sandwich), on Thursdays reverted to its Arab-Palestinian roots. The special of the day  was a lentil-and-rice concoction called something like “mujadara,” although thanks to the joys of transcription from Arabic you may see it written as majadrah, megadarra or something else conveying the same general sounds.

I had actually made this dish several times before, but I had never had it prepared by an expert. Let me tell you, this simple combination is absolutely delicious. And the key is the long-caramelized onions — after my first experience, I made sure to always order extra onions. George, the owner, confided that cooking the onions takes all morning on Thursdays. Another touch of his that I liked is that the earthy lentils and rice are brightened by a fresh cucumber-and-tomato salad piled on top. This diced vegetable salad, in a lemon and olive oil dressing, is very popular in the Middle East, where I hear some people call it Israeli salad, and others call it Arab salad. I won’t take sides, but it’s very tasty stuff.

Back at home, I tried my hand at the recipe again. I made a fantastic discovery about caramelized onions. I also found that I preferred the firmer texture of small, green, French lentils in this dish to the traditional brown kind. It’s just too easy to overcook the brown lentils. Some people apparently add a teaspoon of cumin to the onions as they cook, but I find that the gorgeous richness of caramelized onions gives all the flavor I need.

My son Parker loves lentils, but so far he can’t stand raw tomato or cucumber, so for him I might add some shredded carrots to the dish, or add a salad of sliced roasted bell peppers (from a jar is fine) with yogurt.

Now that I’ve written the recipe out, it looks really complicated. It’s not. Just don’t try to make this from the beginning on a weeknight — do yourself a favor and make a batch of caramelized onions first. You can even cook the lentils the night before, saving their liquid for the rice, and all you’ll have left to do before dinner is a little stove time and some chopping.

Mujadara with tomato-cucumber salad

Adapted from Faye Levy, Claudia Roden and Cafe Savini
Serves 4-6

3 onions
⅓ cup extra virgin olive oil
1 cup Le Puy lentils
1 cup basmati rice
1 cup diced tomatoes
1 cup diced cucumber
1 tablespoon lemon  juice
More extra-virgin olive oil
¼ cup chopped parsley

Onions (you should do this in advance)

  1. Heat the oil over medium-low in a large skillet for which you have a lid.
  2. Add the onions, cover and cook for 5-10 minutes, until they soften.
  3. Remove the lid and reduce heat to low.
  4. Continue to cook, stirring every 10 minutes or so, until dark golden brown — this could take more than an hour.

Lentils (you can do this in advance)

  1. Check lentils for stones, then put in a pan with 2 cups of water.
  2. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and cover partially.
  3. Simmer for 15-20 minutes, until they are cooked but still firm.
  4. Drain lentils in a sieve or colander, and save the cooking water.

Mujadara

  1. Combine half the onions, the lentils, rice and 2 cups of the lentil cooking water (top it up with plain if you don’t have enough) in a large pan with a lid.
  2. Bring to a boil, add some salt (about a teaspoon), reduce heat to low and cook with the lid on for about 20 minutes, until the rice is done.
  3. Meanwhile, fry the rest of the onions over medium heat until dark brown.
  4. Mix the tomatoes and cucumbers in a bowl.
  5. In a separate bowl, add a pinch of salt to the lemon juice, and whisk in a little olive oil. Taste and add more salt and olive oil until you have the right balance.
  6. Toss the dressing with the tomatoes, cucumbers and parsley.
  7. Stir the fried onions into the lentils and rice, and top the whole thing with the cucumber-tomato salad.

The secret to caramelized onions

Caramelized onions, cooked three ways

From left, caramelized onions cooked in an uncovered pan; onions cooked under a lid to start, then uncovered; and onions covered to start, then uncovered and cooked to a deeper brown.

I really wish I could take back all the time I’ve spent over the years trying to make caramelized onions. Because one throwaway tip from Claudia Roden that I read recently made me realize that I had been doing it all wrong.

“Fry the onions slowly in a large pan over very low heat,” she writes in The New Book of Middle Eastern Food, “covered to begin with, until they soften.”

And with those four words (the italics are mine), she changed my life. No, seriously. How long have caramelized onions been a staple in aspirational home (and other) cooking? I think I have a recipe for caramelized onion and goat cheese quiche in my clippings that’s a good 15 years old. And in all the recipes for caramelized onion thingys that I have read since then, the instructions simply say to cook the onions over low heat until they caramelize. I always ended up with a heap of translucent shreds with frizzled brown edges, and blamed myself for being too impatient to lower the heat enough.

Just to confirm, I tried cooking onions three ways, and you can see them in the photo above. From left, there’s onions cooked the old way, over low heat but uncovered the whole time; another batch covered for a few minutes to soften, as Roden suggests, then uncovered; and some of the Roden onions that I cooked a little longer to use as a garnish.

I should have taken video, because then you would have been able to see that by the time the uncovered onions got properly dark, they were brittle and dry. The covered-to-soften onions, on the other hand, were just lovely — sweet and mellow, just as I’d always read they were. Maybe I could have cooked them a bit longer, but they had great caramelly flavor. And the garnish batch had a great chew — I kept grazing on little bits.

So it’s worth setting aside some time for caramelized onions. You don’t have to stand over the stove for a long time; just give them a stir every once in a while. Make a big batch, and you’ve got a head start on any number of recipes — or a great garnish.

Caramelized onions

2-5 large onions, sliced
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

  1. Heat the oil over medium-low in a large skillet for which you have a lid.
  2. Add the onions, cover and cook for 5-10 minutes, until they soften.
  3. Remove the lid and reduce heat to low.
  4. Continue to cook, stirring every 10 minutes or so, until dark golden brown — this could take more than an hour.

Halloween recipe: Jack o’lantern soup

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Pumpkin bowls by flashlight

Last year at Halloween, my son Parker was one and a half, and he didn’t know what candy was. He was excited that kids kept showing up at the door, dressed in funny clothes, and he happily scooped up Hershey’s kisses, Babe Ruth mini-bars, mini Reese’s cups and Tootsie Rolls from the candy bowl, handing them out with the generosity of someone who has no idea what he’s giving away. A week later, inundated with leftover confections, I gave him a Hershey’s kiss, and the jig was up.

So, this year he knows what candy is. You know what else is different? Parker has an opinion about his blue monster costume, which I picked up for $20 at Target. His verdict: “I don’t want it.” I had to explain that while monsters can get candy, little boys only get apples and carrots. So much for teaching healthy eating habits. When I was a kid, Halloween was just one day. But now — especially on a year like this, with the holiday on a Monday — it’s a marathon. There’s trick or treating at the parents’ office, at daycare, and weekend costume parties in addition to the actual day. In short, a lot of candy bribery was required.

My original concept for this blog was to try out easy, tasty, and *healthy* recipes from different cultural traditions that kids and grown-ups alike would enjoy. So it’s pretty funny that I’m posting this one the fourth day of the most unhealthy run of toddler feeding that I’ve yet encountered.

However, there is a bright spot: a bright orange spot, in fact. Pumpkins! Parker loves them (I’m not sure why they’re more exciting than cucumbers or tomatoes, but no sense dwelling on it), they’re highly nutritious and delicious. And they make fun food vessels.

I loved the Sunset magazine cover photo of individual small pumpkins filled with soup. For Parker’s sake, I decided to take it a step further and make the pumpkins into jack o’lanterns. (Just typing that phrase made me wonder about the odd name. Check out the history of “Stingy Jack”!)

So, I took a couple of small pumpkins, about the size of softballs, and carved off some of the peel to make the faces. There’s a bit of a trick to just scoring the skin enough to be able to remove the pieces easily — I used a paring knife, but wished I was using a shorter blade for better control. You don’t want to cut too deeply, since you want to keep the integrity of the shell.

I roasted the pumpkins at 350 degrees one evening for… a while. Maybe 20-30 minutes, i.e., the time it took me to take care of some of some other things around the house, totally forget about the pumpkins, and then wonder what that roasting smell in the air was. I let them cool, then scooped out the pumpkin flesh carefully. Since the pumpkins weren’t so small, there wasn’t much flesh.

A few days later, I came home from work and whipped up a soup. I worried that there wasn’t enough pumpkin flesh, so I threw a couple of giant mutant organic carrots (seriously, each was the size of 2 normal ones), cut into chunks, into a small pot with a couple slices of ginger and just enough broth to cover. It’s always a pain to have to cool off food for Parker, so I figured I’d just add more broth to bring it to an edible temperature. That took about 20 minutes to cook. I added a chunk of frozen coconut milk, which also helped bring down the temperature as it melted, then pureed and adjusted the consistency with more broth, and adjusted the flavor with salt. I also chopped up a bit of basil for a Southeast Asian touch.

The verdict? Kid approved. Parker loved the jack-o’-lantern vessel and the soup inside (minus the basil). I was reasonably pleased with my portion, although in future I would a) plan better so as not to be frantically cooking the minute I walk in the door; and b) not use coconut milk that has been in my freezer for at least a year, because apparently the flavor does go off somewhat.

Fortunately, pumpkin soup lends itself to many iterations, and what with all the leftover pumpkins we’ve got, I’ll be trying this again. I’d like to try the more authentic  coconut-pumpkin soup from Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid’s Hot Sour Salty Sweet, one of my favorite cookbooks of all time. There’s also that Sunset recipe, with mint pesto. And I remember reading about a soup where you just layer cream, Gruyère, croutons and broth inside the pumpkin. After roasting, you stir to mix up the insides, and you’ve got pumpkin soup!

"Yummy" face after eating pumpkin soup

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