I’d be lying if I said that tabbouleh was necessarily a whole-family kind of dish at our place. There’s too much raw-green content for Arty to be keen to try it, and he’s not that wild about tomatoes either.
But when I’m making this, he’s not who I’m cooking for.
Tabbouleh is what I want to eat when I’m tired, drained, and have been resorting to crappy food for days. It’s the first meal I want to cook when we’re coming out of a week of caring for a sick kid, or some other unexpected life drama, and we’ve been living on toast and whatever else we can throw together with no energy.
The deep green leaves are full of iron. The cracked wheat is nourishing. The lemon and pepper uplift. It’s good food.
- 1 cup cracked wheat
- 3 cups vegetable stock
- 1 spring onion (you could use more here, but SJ doesn’t like strong raw onion flavour so I err on the side of caution with ours)
- 300g cherry tomatoes, diced
- a small handful of mint
- 2 bunches of continental parsley, very finely chopped
- 2 tbsp olive oil
- juice of 2 lemons
- salt and cracked peper to taste
- Rinse the cracked wheat thoroughly under running water, until the water runs clear. I use a sieve to do this, though you could use muslin if it’s what you have to hand.
- Add rinsed wheat and stock to a small saucepan, and bring to the boil. Reduce heat to a low simmer, cover, and cook for 20 minutes, stirring at 5 minute intervals.
- The wheat should now be tender, but not mushy. Drain the remaining liquid from the wheat, squeezing or pressing it gently to remove any excess. Allow to cool.
- Combine all ingredients in a big salad bowl and serve with falafel and a generous dollop of hummus.
If you’re not planning on eating the whole lot in one go, hold off on adding the oil and lemon, reserve what you won’t eat immediately, and only add those two ingredients to the potion you’re about to serve. The reserved part will keep better without them, and you can chuck some on freshly when the time comes.
This is delicious served as a side to roast lamb, or in a wrap with hummus and falafel, but I find it easiest to just pile it in a bowl and stuff it in my face with a fork.
It’s restoration food, and it makes me happy.