Lentil Soup, Date Balls, Celery Salad
This is my version of harira, the national soup of Morocco, which shows up in unending variations from city to city, street stall to street stall, and family to family. It can be vegan, vegetarian, or made with meatusually lamb. Some cooks add chickpeas, chicken gizzards, or broken-up bits of angel hair pasta. But the result is always unmistakably harira, and thats what makes it so comforting and satisfying. Harira has the inexplicable quality of being both light and filling at the same time, making you feel perfectly content. Thats why, besides being the national soup, its also a religious institution: its what every family in Morocco eats to break their daily fast all through the monthlong observance of Ramadan. All over the country, for an entire month of sunsets, the first thing the entire population tastes is harira, and breaking the fast with anything else would be like serving Thanksgiving dinner without turkey. During Ramadan here in the States, I fast all day, even though I keep up my normal schedule, shopping in the farmers market and working in the kitchen. As soon as the sun goes down, I step away from my expediting station and have a quick bowlful of harira to get me through the evening. And on days off, I take home a quart of it to break the fast at my house. The first time you make this, try making a light meal of it, with just some bread and maybe a simple salad. Youll understand what Im talking about. Its weirdly, wonderfully satisfyingin a way that fills your soul more than your stomach. I make harira with water, not stock, because I think this vegetarian (actually, vegan) version is lighter and cleaner tasting, but you can make it with chicken or lamb stock or half stock and half water. While its flavor is very true to the original, Ive played with its preparation. For example, I cook the lentils separately, to keep them from breaking down too much. (My mom called that crazy, but she smiled when she tasted the result.) And if you cook them in the soup, they darken the cooking liquid and give the soup a muddy appearance. The yeast-and-flour mixture is my version of the traditional starter made from fermented flour and water, used exclusively for harira, that youll find in every Moroccan kitchen. Its easier to manage but has the same effect as that sourdough original, thickening and lightening the soup, and keeping it from separating, while adding a rich, tangy flavor. I wanted to give people a little crunch without adding an extra element, so I took the celery out of its usual place in the sauteed soup base and reintroduced it at the end as a raw garnish. In Morocco, harira is classically served with dates, which add sweetness to balance the soups acidity. Taste it without the dates, and then try it with them. Youll find its an entirely different experience. When I first started serving this soup at the restaurant, Id accompany it with a few beautiful (and expensive) California Medjools on the side. The dates kept coming back uneaten. People just didnt get the idea of savory soup and sweet dates, which drove me nuts. So I thought of a way to work the dates into the soup, rolling them into little balls and adding them as a garnish. People get it now. The date balls are never left uneaten. Theyre a part of the bigger idea, as they should be. This makes a big batch. Thats how I always do it, even at home, because we love to eat it over several nights, and it keeps for up to a week.
This is my version of harira, the national soup of Morocco, which shows up in unending variations from city to city, street stall to street stall, and family to family. It can be vegan, vegetarian, or made with meatusually lamb. Some cooks add chickpeas, chicken gizzards, or broken-up bits of angel hair pasta. But the result is always unmistakably harira, and thats what makes it so comforting and satisfying. Harira has the inexplicable quality of being both light and filling at the same time, making you feel perfectly content. Thats why, besides being the national soup, its also a religious institution: its what every family in Morocco eats to break their daily fast all through the monthlong observance of Ramadan. All over the country, for an entire month of sunsets, the first thing the entire population tastes is harira, and breaking the fast with anything else would be like serving Thanksgiving dinner without turkey. During Ramadan here in the States, I fast all day, even though I keep up my normal schedule, shopping in the farmers market and working in the kitchen. As soon as the sun goes down, I step away from my expediting station and have a quick bowlful of harira to get me through the evening. And on days off, I take home a quart of it to break the fast at my house. The first time you make this, try making a light meal of it, with just some bread and maybe a simple salad. Youll understand what Im talking about. Its weirdly, wonderfully satisfyingin a way that fills your soul more than your stomach. I make harira with water, not stock, because I think this vegetarian (actually, vegan) version is lighter and cleaner tasting, but you can make it with chicken or lamb stock or half stock and half water. While its flavor is very true to the original, Ive played with its preparation. For example, I cook the lentils separately, to keep them from breaking down too much. (My mom called that crazy, but she smiled when she tasted the result.) And if you cook them in the soup, they darken the cooking liquid and give the soup a muddy appearance. The yeast-and-flour mixture is my version of the traditional starter made from fermented flour and water, used exclusively for harira, that youll find in every Moroccan kitchen. Its easier to manage but has the same effect as that sourdough original, thickening and lightening the soup, and keeping it from separating, while adding a rich, tangy flavor. I wanted to give people a little crunch without adding an extra element, so I took the celery out of its usual place in the sauteed soup base and reintroduced it at the end as a raw garnish. In Morocco, harira is classically served with dates, which add sweetness to balance the soups acidity. Taste it without the dates, and then try it with them. Youll find its an entirely different experience. When I first started serving this soup at the restaurant, Id accompany it with a few beautiful (and expensive) California Medjools on the side. The dates kept coming back uneaten. People just didnt get the idea of savory soup and sweet dates, which drove me nuts. So I thought of a way to work the dates into the soup, rolling them into little balls and adding them as a garnish. People get it now. The date balls are never left uneaten. Theyre a part of the bigger idea, as they should be. This makes a big batch. Thats how I always do it, even at home, because we love to eat it over several nights, and it keeps for up to a week.
- Carbohydrate 47 g(16%)
- Fat 21 g(32%)
- Fiber 8 g(33%)
- Protein 9 g(18%)
- Saturated Fat 3 g(14%)
- Sodium 3044 mg(127%)
- Calories 385
Step-by-step
- Preparation For the spice mix: Mix all the ingredients together in a small bowl. Set aside
- For the soup: Put the tomato paste and 7 quarts (6.6 kilograms) cold water in a large nonreactive stockpot over high heat. Whisk occasionally as the water comes to a boil, then reduce the heat to maintain a gentle boil and cook for about 1 hour, or until it has reduced by about one-quarter. (Remove from the heat if the onions aren't ready.)
- Meanwhile, rinse the cilantro and parsley well and set aside. Cut the onions into large chunks. Put the chunks in a food processor and pulse until they are becoming a mush. Add as much of the herbs as fit into the food processor. Pulse the machine, adding small amounts of cold water if necessary to allow the blade to spin. As the herbs decrease in volume, add the remaining herbs and the celery leaves and continue to pulse. Stop from time to time to scrape the sides with a rubber spatula and mix the herbs to redistribute them. Run the machine for up to 10 minutes, until the mixture is almost liquefied.
- Transfer the mixture to a large saucepan and stir in the spice mix.
- Add the remaining 5 cups (1.2 kilograms) cold water to the onions and bring to a gentle boil over high heat, then reduce the heat and boil gently for about 1 hour or until the liquid is reduced by half.
- Stir the onion mixture into the stockpot, return to a simmer, and cook for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, skimming any impurities that rise to the top, until the soup has reduced by about one-third to just over 4 quarts (4 kilograms).
- Meanwhile, for the date balls: Cut a lengthwise slit down one side of each date, open it as you would a book, and remove the pit. Cut the dates lengthwise in half, then cut each half lengthwise into 4 strips. Using your fingertips, shape each strip into a rough ball. If you keep the skin side facing out, the ball will be less sticky and will hold together better.
- Pour a shallow pool of olive oil into a small bowl. Rub a little of the oil on the center of one palm, put a date ball on it, and use the index finger of your other hand to roll the date into a smooth ball. Put the ball in the bowl of oil, and repeat with the rest of the dates, adding more oil to the bowl as needed to keep the date balls covered. Set aside.
- For the lentils: Put the lentils in a saucepan, add 6 cups (1.4 kilograms) cold water, and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Cook the lentils for 10 to 12 minutes, stirring them from time to time.
- Meanwhile, fill a large bowl with cold water. Taste a lentil. When they have started to soften but are still firm in the center, drain them in a fine-mesh strainer, rinse them with cold water, and submerge them in the bowl of cold water until ready to use.
- For the celery salad: Remove the tough outer celery stalks and reserve them for another use. Pinch off the leaves from the inner stalks and place the leaves in a bowl of ice water. Cut the stalks into 1/8-inch dice; you need 1 cup (120 grams). Put the diced celery in a small bowl, toss with the olive oil and parsley, and season to taste with salt and pepper.
- To finish the soup: Once the soup has reduced, add the lentils; keep warm over low heat.
- Whisk together the flour, water, and yeast in a small bowl and let sit at room temperature until foamy and bubbling, about 10 minutes.
- Whisking constantly, add the flour mixture to the soup, then stir with a flat-bottomed wooden spoon, scraping the bottom of the pot, as you bring the soup to a simmer over medium heat. (High heat could cause the flour to stick to the bottom of the pot.) Simmer the soup gently, stirring often, for 10 minutes. Season to taste with salt, remove the soup from the heat, and stir in the lemon juice.
- Drain and dry the celery leaves. Using 2 soupspoons, form the celery salad into a quenelle or football shape and place toward the rim of each soup bowl. Stack about 8 date balls alongside each quenelle. (If you end up with extra date balls, keep them in the refrigerator and add them to salads.)
- Carefully ladle the soup around the garnishes so that a bit of the celery salad and the date balls remain visible. Drizzle some of the olive oil that remains in the bowl of celery salad over the soup and garnish with the celery leaves.
A Culinary Journey Through Morocco: My Harira Adventure
As a lifelong home cook, I've always been drawn to the vibrant flavors and rich traditions of Moroccan cuisine. Harira, the national soup of Morocco, has become a particular favorite, and a dish that truly embodies the spirit of warmth and sharing that's so central to Moroccan culture. This isn't just a soup; it's an experience, a story told in every fragrant spoonful.
My journey with Harira began years ago, long before I ever stepped foot in Morocco. I discovered the recipe, tucked away in an old cookbook, and was immediately captivated by its unique combination of sweet, savory, and spicy notes. The descriptions of family gatherings, the breaking of the fast during Ramadan, all painted a picture of comforting tradition that resonated deeply. I fell in love not just with the taste, but with the history and the emotion tied up in each bowl.
What sets my version apart isn't a dramatic departure from tradition, but rather a subtle refinement honed over years of experimentation. I've learned from family recipes, adapted techniques, and listened closely to the whispers of the ingredients themselves. For instance, I discovered that cooking the lentils separately results in a lighter, brighter soup, unlike the darker, muddier result when cooking them directly in the broth. My mom may have thought it crazy, but the smile on her face after her first taste was the best reward.
The yeast-and-flour mixture is another area where I've made an adjustment. This method, inspired by the traditional sourdough starter used in Moroccan homes, provides that characteristic tang and texture, yet proves much more manageable for the average home cook. It’s a small change, but a significant one for the overall success of the dish.
The classic pairing of Harira with dates was a revelation in itself. Initially, I served the soup with beautiful Medjool dates, only to find them largely untouched. The unexpected combination of savory and sweet didn’t quite translate for everyone. This spurred me on to create the date balls. Not only are these little gems visually appealing, but they beautifully balance the subtle tartness of the soup, tying together all its components.
This recipe is more than just a collection of ingredients and instructions; it’s a testament to the power of adaptation and the joy of culinary exploration. It’s a comforting embrace on a cold night, a celebration of shared meals, and a delicious journey into the heart of Moroccan culture.
The beauty of Harira lies in its versatility. It can be adapted to suit any palate or dietary restriction. Want a heartier soup? Add some lamb or chicken. Prefer a vegan option? Stick to the vegetable broth and enjoy the exquisite simplicity. The fundamental flavor profile remains the same, a testament to its enduring appeal. The recipe calls for a large batch, which is how I always prepare it, even at home. There's something satisfying about having enough to savor over several days, allowing the flavors to meld and deepen. It also keeps beautifully for a week, a welcome addition to busy weeknights. So, gather your ingredients, embrace the process, and let the warm aroma of Harira transport you to the sun-drenched souks of Marrakech.
This Harira is more than just a recipe; it’s an invitation to explore, adapt, and ultimately, to share a taste of Morocco's rich culinary heritage with friends and family. The experience of preparing and enjoying this soup is as much a part of the joy as the final result itself, and that, I believe, is the true essence of good cooking.
