Lockdown Edition Week 9: Chermoula Aubergine with Bulgar and Yoghurt

The book: Jerusalem (Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi)

The recipe: p59, "Chermoula Aubergine with Bulgar and Yoghurt"

I received Jerusalem as a very kind gift from an Israeli-American friend after I offered some assistance during her (successful!) job search. Israel promptly won Eurovision soon afterwards, allowing me to rustle up a bunch of sharing dishes from its pages for our preview party ahead of Tel Aviv hosting the contest the next year - and very nice they were too, by and large - but I still can't say I've done a proper deep dive into its pages.

When I restarted this project, I was worried there might be a conflict between the likes of Ottolenghi (or any more adventurous chef) and the prevailing lockdown restrictions, self-imposed or otherwise. Jerusalem is a beautiful book and one that always makes me want to Make All The Things whenever I flick through it, but All The Things tend to also involve All The Exotic Ingredients. That said, between the vast "Turkish and everything else" supermarket next to the library and the many other communities represented in the local area, central Lewisham is a pretty good place to live for this kind of thing.

Super-extra-wonder-shop

This week we do have to exercise a veto for another reason, though. The first recipe chosen by random.org is a dessert involving peaches "poached in arak, ouzo or Pernod". As you'll have noticed, this teetotal blogger is perfectly okay with sauces that involve a bit of wine in some capacity, but buying spirits by the bottle and using them in a way that's going to be front and centre in the experience - that's a nope for me, sadly. (On perusing the recipe, Sam adds "that also sounds horrible and I don't want it". Technically not grounds for a Random Kitchen veto in itself, but it makes it an easier decision to spin the wheel again...)

So instead we end up here. Where is here? Here is "baked aubergine with a spicy north African rub and topped with herby bulgar and cooling yoghurt". Those aren't my words - I'm pleased to say this is a recipe that's also available online, so you can read along and I don't have to bore you with quite so many details as we go. Though I'm sure I will. Anyway, sounds nice, doesn't it?

The prep: We've had a soup and a salad so far, but it's good to be doing a vegetarian main for once. Well, it's substantial enough to qualify as a main if we take "serves 4" to mean "serves 2", which is exactly what we shall be doing.

Unlike some weeks, I have to buy in pretty much all of the ingredients this time. To my astonishment, though, a pilgrimage to the aforementioned Lewisham Food Centre is not required - which is a bit of a shame, to be honest, as it means I don't get to also buy a couple of börek from the in-store bakery counter then pray the paper bag doesn't collapse under the sheer weight of dripping grease by the time I get home. Fun times.

Instead, the humble Asda on Lewisham Way turns out to have everything I need. That includes the various herbs, a pair of aubergines an emoji-maker would be proud of, a bag of bulgur wheat ("medium" rather than "fine", but I'm sure that'll be, erm, fine) - and even preserved lemons.

Yes, preserved lemons. Absolutely central to Moroccan and wider North African cuisine, apparently. You learn a new thing every week (or I do, at least). Jerusalem offers two recipes for making them at home - one taking four weeks, the other 24 hours - so I add the pickling ingredients for the latter to my weekly shopping list in anticipation of needing them. But no!

Full of lemony goodness (and a bit of plastic)

Quite what I'm going to do with a whole jar of the things is another matter, though the Guardian has a few ideas on that front too.

The making: The chermoula is an easy mix of garlic, cumin, coriander, chilli flakes, paprika, olive oil, salt, and some finely chopped preserved lemon skin. I could probably do a finer job on the chopping front, but either way, this looks like it'll do the job nicely enough.

Hold on tight, you know she's a little bit dangerous

I then take two aubergines, cut them lengthways, and score their flesh in a criss-cross pattern. (It's what the recipe tells me to do, I'm not just doing it for fun. Although it is quite fun.)

Pristine baking trays are for losers

The chermoula then gets smeared all over the aubergines. I assume this is going to be a basting/pastry brush kind of job, but it's too thick for that, so I use the back of a spoon instead. It doesn't have to be elegant, after all.

This baking tray then goes into the oven for 40 minutes "or until the aubergines are very soft" (you want to be able to eat the skin, basically).

Meanwhile - and this is a proper "meanwhile" for once - it's time to prepare the bulgur topping.

Let's go, Güs!

This is straightforward enough: the bulgur is covered in boiling water and left for ten minutes, some sultanas also get the warm water treatment at the same time, and then it all gets mixed together with (deep breath now) some fresh coriander, fresh mint, halved green olives, toasted flaked almonds, spring onions, and a little lemon juice. Plus a bit of salt for good measure. Et voilà:

Bulgur display of power

The end result is something that would make a pretty good meal in its own right, to be honest. I leave it to sit and absorb the flavours while the aubergines are done, and once they are:

...it's time to assemble the finished dish. Which involves spooning the bulgar mix over the aubergines "allowing some to fall over the sides" (deliberately untidy food presentation? I'm in love), then spooning over some Greek yoghurt, sprinkling on some more coriander, and finishing with a wee drizzly dribble of olive oil. Nice and simple.

The eating: The recipe says this one can be served "warm or at room temperature". We go with the latter, partly because Sam firstly needs to finish the round of family phone calls saying "you did what with your hair?!".

By virtue of the "just dump the stuff on top" presentation method, it's not necessarily the prettiest dish you'll ever see, although the colours and textures are all very fresh and attractive.

I swear I didn't add the yoghurt with an ice-cream scoop

This broadly positive impression continues with the eating. The aubergine rub has a nice kick and depth to it, although I have to admit I don't get much sense of the lemon skin (maybe I did need to chop it more finely after all), while the bulgar offers up a mix of savoury and sweet flavours that are competing but complementary. Like with most of the dishes I've tried from Jerusalem so far, there's so much fresh herb action going on that you're guaranteed to end up with the stuff stuck in your teeth, but I suppose that's also where the flavour comes from.

I could possibly use a bit more crunch in the bulgur mix to counteract the inherent squidginess of the aubergine, olives and all. Maybe up the almond and spring onion content, say. But these are minor quibbles. It's a tasty dish, and pretty filling despite its relative lightness (though again, we are doing double portions here). Plus it's really pretty easy to make once you've got all the ingredients in - the reward to effort ratio is favourable, and would have remained so even if I'd had to rustle up some home-pickled lemons as I expected.

In summary, then: my socks are not knocked off altogether, but they do end up dangling from my toes a bit. Good work, Jerusalem.

Two-word verdict: Egg(plant)cellent... ah, forget it.