More on bulgur, unsurprisingly

So I am having a few issues with bulgur.

  1. I don’t know how to spell it.
  2. I have no idea how to identify the coarseness of my bulgur. Every time I read about bulgur, it says, “Bulgur is identified by number corresponding to coarseness.” I have never ever seen an identification of bulgur.
  3. I am still secretly worried that the stuff I call bulgur is not really bulgur. See (1).

Nevertheless, because of food uninspiration etc., I am making that bulgur thing I posted about recently. So you don’t have to click two different links, here is the recipe. In unrelated news, does anyone have any advice for things I should make in the coming weeks? I don’t feel like eating anything. Maybe it’s time for summer or something. But I don’t like summer.

So right now I’m cooking the bulgur in the rice cooker. (The recipe said “salt to taste,” but she was just talking about salting two cups of water, so it makes no sense. How are you supposed to know how salty your water should be?)

This seems like the sort of recipe that can be done slowly in calm steps, so I’m not worrying about anything, no frantic chopping, no slippery knives, wet cutting boards fresh from the sink. I’ve been listening to the Splendid Table and cooking and eating on and off all afternoon and evening. It’s the new Sunday. (This, and everything else I posted this week, is from Sunday.)

“Imagine this: two wild truffles reaching out to each other across an abyss, desperately trying to escape from their same-sex prisons.” That is a quote from a very old episode of the Splendid Table. First I thought she was talking about chocolate truffles, and then I figured it out and it was less funny, but still really weird and sort of homophobic-sounding. Poor truffles.

Every step seems separate from every other step—there’s not much by way of order, so I’m just going to pick and choose. Grating Gruyere first.

There are a lot of herbs and spices in this recipe, so I’m going to measure them with my lovely new stainless-steel measuring spoons, and perhaps arrange them in an herb-rainbow of some sort.

I’ve measured the spinach, and immediately realized that the recipe calls for fresh spinach, whereas I have frozen. That’s going to totally mess up my proportions, right? Or am I being an idiot? I can’t process this. Also, I bought the frozen spinach in a bag rather than the compressed block, and it looks very strange. Sort of like extremely small broccoli, actually.

I thawed the spinach and squeezed out the water by hand, then diced the tomatoes rather than food-process them. To make tomato sauce my mother always takes the whole tomatoes out of the can using a knife, then dices them on the cutting board, and that’s what I did. Juice collected in the channels of my cutting board. I sliced slowly. (I’ve been feeling very meditative and sleepy for the past half-hour and just realized it’s because I never had part two of my dinner and am actually really hungry.)

I poured a tablespoon of olive oil (I measured, for once) into my largest skillet and added garlic, simmered it for a bit. Then I collected the salt, sugar, and cinnamon in a ramekin and tipped them all in, along with the tomatoes. They’re simmering now, for a while, and I will mix my chickpeas, spinach, and bulgur, and sit quietly and perhaps eat something.

So everything is mixed together, the wonderful tomato sauce is on top (though it is more chunky and less saucy, so I don’t know if that will end up mattering), and then the gruyere. I am still hungry.

I don’t know how to end this post. I’m just sitting here eating bread and cheese and waiting for the casserole to come out of the oven so I can take pictures of it. Good night!

Sigh, it wouldn’t brown

Update: It is now two days since I write this post, and I have eaten this for lunch twice. It is SO GOOD. Strongly recommended. The cinnamon, tomatoes, gruyere—aaah.

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