Stuffed Onions with Moghrabieh (or couscous)
Any excuse to shout about vegetables—Veganuary or not. This time, it’s cauliflower and an elevated onion.
For me, every time is vegetable time, really. But I am happily hopping on the January vegetarian and vegan bandwagon (plus, I have turkey curry coming out of my ears, to be honest) and stopping for a moment to explore two vegetables that are close to my heart. Any excuse to pontificate about the endless potential of vegetables, whether you’re vegetarian, vegan, an omnivore or a cyclops.
I’ll start with cauliflower, which is, neck and neck with aubergine, the vegetable that I’ve been giving the most love to over the years. The possibilities are never-ending with a cauliflower, mainly because it sits happily both on the side of the plate and in the middle. It’s great in winter - as in Meera Sodha’s cauliflower korma - and amazing as a late summer salad, like my cauliflower, pomegranate and pistachio salad.
Fried cauliflower florets -in fritters, pakoras and the like - are a world of their own (please google it to find some ideas), which I promise to explore another time. Today, though, I am roasting the florets and spooning over tahini and amba, a match made in heaven: nutty, pickley, sweet but also bitter (in a good way).
Cauliflower salad with amba and tahini
Amba is a pickled mango sauce, and honestly, I put it on almost everything—kebabs, falafel, curries. It’s a staple all across the Middle East, and I always have a jar in the fridge, ready to spoon over eggs or swirl into yoghurt for a quick sauce. It’s one of those condiments that can instantly lift whatever you're eating.
For a deeper dive into its history, Joel Hart’s article in Vittles is well worth a read.
The amba here makes more than you need for this recipe, but it keeps for up to two weeks in the fridge (it’s delicious over fried eggs, in a chopped salad, or over roasted aubergine). The salad holds up really nicely, even if left out of the fridge for a few hours, so feel free to assemble well in advance. I like to put it all together and serve it straight on the parchment-lined tray I used to roast the cauliflower–it saves on washing up, and honestly, it looks great all splattered with that tahini and amba.
The best way to elevate vegetables
If you are happy to spend a little more time on your vegetables - which you really should, if you can afford to - stuffing them lifts them to new heights.
It’s a technique that goes back millennia, to periods when people had little means (to get fancy produce) and more free time (to play with them), as opposed to today’s world, where ingredients are relatively cheap (not for all, I have to stress) but everyone is struggling for time.
Traditional cuisines all over the world have stuffed vegetable dishes (stuffed anything, actually) in which a humble brassica, capsicum or root is hollowed out and filled up with grains or meat, or a combination of the two, and then allowed to bubble away in broth for the flavours to come together and mellow.
It’s cheap, because it uses abundant seasonal veg (carrots, courgettes, beets, tomatoes, pepper), a prevalent local grain (rice, bulgar, barley, couscous) and only a little bit of meat, if any, mostly for flavour.
This is so simply brilliant not only because it maximises flavour and extends your ingredients. It also looks amazing, with a surprise awaiting inside every time you stick a fork or a spoon into one of those edible parcels.
In Jerusalem, where I grew up, you can buy vegetables already hollowed out for you, which saves a lot of work, particularly with hardy vegetables like carrots or beets.
There are thousands of ways that people take the cheapest vegetables and make them fancy by filling them to the brim. I have done it with grains, rice, other vegetables, even prawns. Take Mahshi in so much of the Arab world or Turkish Sarma. They are all so tantalising.
An onion is one of those great vessels, ready to be stuffed. It’s not completely intuitive to stuff onions. You’d probably think bell peppers first. But what makes onions so great as the starting point to most dishes I can think of - sauteed slowly in oil or butter to make them succulent and delicious - is also what made me choose them for today’s recipe. I love nothing more (well, I do love a few things more) than watching something raw, harsh and humble turn into something sweet, mellow, and full of depth.
Moghrabieh (or couscous) stuffed onions
This recipe is a bit decadent; it requires some hands-on time with the onion (there’s a useful video below showing how it’s all done). But, if you’re looking for a way to convince a friend that you don’t need meat for a main, or you simply want a veggie dish for the centre of your table, this is the one! There’ll be lots of ‘ooo’s for your little onion lifeboats stuffed with couscous, sailing on a rich, deep-red broth.
Moghrabieh
In fact, it’s not couscous that I am using here but moghrabieh, a Lebanese version of little pasta that’s firmer than couscous and gives you more texture (rest assured, we did test it also with giant or Israeli couscous and it was also great, if a little less textured, so feel free to swap).
Moghrabieh is both the name of the giant, couscous-like pasta used in this recipe and the name of a dish. A Lebanese nod to Morocco (Maghreb means Moroccan in Arabic), it’s known for its satisfyingly chewy texture. Traditionally, moghrabieh is simmered in a rich meat broth with chickpeas, but here, we’ve swapped the meat for dried mushrooms to create that same savoury depth. By doing so, this recipe is now completely vegan.
In Lebanon, you’ll find moghrabieh freshly made, but outside of the region, it’s usually sold dried. You can sometimes find it in speciality supermarkets, though ordering online is often the easiest route.
BTW, there’s a wonderful description of moghrabieh in Anissa Helou’s Levant. It’s an image she portrays of a tiny sandwich stall in the souk of Tripoli, Lebanon. The man behind the counter stands guard over a mound of fresh moghrabieh, mixed with chickpeas and onions. He scoops it into a warm pita, rolls it tight, and hands over this double-starch sandwich. Another way with stuffing, I suppose.
Hollowing the onions
A small, sharp serrated knife is best here. I’ll let Angelos show you how it’s done:
If you’re not into all this hollowing and stuffing, you could chop it all up and turn it into some form of pasta bake.
Serves 4
Prep time 40 minutes
Cook time 2 hours