Moroccan Chickpea and Barley Salad on a a square plate with antique silver serving spoon.

Enough

It is quiet here following Epiphany. The three kings are back in their boxes along with the first blush of hope that bloomed with the new year. For a moment, things looked brighter. We hung a new calendar on the kitchen wall. We stood in awe of the reality that it happened again, despite the challenges: the baby was laid in the manger, the ball dropped at Times Square (never mind the size of the crowd that attended). Once more the cycle was completed and begins again with the melody that accompanies, “Peace on earth, goodwill toward men” still ringing in our ears.

Those tentative hopes for the new year were swiftly dashed. Within a week we found the world back at each other’s throats. We retreated to endurance mode. Once again we are putting one foot in front of the other, doing our best to make it to the other side of winter. Turning away from my window on the world I shift my focus to the kitchen. What can I pull together to sweeten the journey and lighten the load?

My pantry is still well-stocked with dry goods and cans of this and that. There are chickpeas and barley and some good olive oil. I have a bit of dried fruit and shelled nuts. I have a fresh lemon and jars of spices I replenished for the holidays. It is enough.

Moroccan Chickpea and Barley Salad in a small mason jar.

Kitchen Venting

Today I am making my own escape valve. I am venting on a very personal level in the company of my kitchen stove and a recipe for Moroccan Chickpea and Barley Salad.

Together we begin. I put some olive oil in a pan, over heat. Then I add the barley and stir until it begins to brown. Next, I add the broth and wait for the heat to roil the liquid before I cover the pan. I turn it down to low and let it sit in silence until the broth infuses and tenderizes the parched kernels of grain.

At my cutting board I chop dried apricots, exposing their sticky sweet centers. These bits are chewy and bright. I rub the fragrant rind of my lemon on a microplane to shred its zest and squeeze the tart liquid from it’s flesh, watching it run down my wooden reamer like tears. Then I strain it to remove the seeds before adding it to the chickpeas and onions.

When the barley is barely tender I drain it and dress it in the silky olive oil as it cools. A little salt and pepper enhances its savor to stir the appetite. Then parsley, fresh from the winter herb garden, is chopped to freshen and harmonize the palate as these elements are tossed together.

A Potent Blend

Now the bones are in place. The foundation of my Chickpea and Barley Salad is framed to balance the protein, fill the stomach and please the eye. Still this salad needs something more to give it voice. It awaits a blend of storied spices to make it noteworthy.

Ras al hanout is the potent ingredient that makes this salad special. It is a blend of various spices used to flavor meals in the middle east and Africa. It is rich, complex and varied. Rather than a set blend of a few spices, ras al hanout can have dozens of spices in the mix and which spices it contains varies depending on the source. I often use the ras al hanout from World Spice Merchants, a wonderful spice vendor I discovered on a trip to Seattle. Their blend includes exotic ingredients not found in the average spice chest: nigella, grains of paradise, fenugreek and rose petals.

On the other hand, a recipe for ras al hanout, made with fewer ingredients, is included here. I also use this DIY blend from time to time and it is perfectly delicious. If you are mixing it yourself, go ahead and double or triple the recipe while blending. I feel sure it will be put to good use as you return to this Chickpea and Barley Salad again and again.

Stay well!