I clenched my heart and nearly collapsed to the floor in shock when my best friend, for whom my passion to cook had blossomed, unexpectedly decided to come out... as vegetarian ("Why, Kitchen God, why?!!"). In spite of growing up in two cultures that, when combined, eat pretty much anything with a pulse, I often feel the need to point out that I have absolutely no hard feelings against vegetarianism whatsoever (I did a good deal of time in India, mind you). In fact, I do actually support the idea of a low-to-no meat diet, albeit more for personal health and environmental reasons rather than ethical or religious ones. No, the root of my problem was not vegetarianism. My concern lay more in the heartbreaking notion that I would no longer be able to cook for someone I really care about, the one person whose taste buds I had derived such immense pleasure in satiating. Sure, there's the quite flattering response, "I'm vegetarian now, but I'd make an exception only for your food". Yet something still feels taboo about preparing a meat dish even for someone who just made the diet switch yesterday. It's a weight of guilt nearly comparable to serving bacon to a Muslim or prime rib to a Hindu.
I needed to do some serious digging into my repertoire of recipes if I still wanted to provide good food for my friend. I then realized that one of the most quintessential dishes across North Africa and the Middle East - lands dominated by spiced kebabs and rich meat stews - is surprisingly vegetarian. Even more special is that it's a dish I grew up eating in my mother's kitchen. With respect to my Jewish friends, Shakshouka is not an Israeli dish as many seem to claim. It's 100% bonafide Tunisian, a somewhat unofficial national breakfast and comfort food in the small country. Originating from the Arab-Berber populations of the Maghreb region, this hearty ragout of roasted peppers and poached eggs in a spicy tomato sauce was eventually popularized and spread via migrating Jews towards Israel and the rest of the Middle East. There are many variations of the dish, some more quick-n-dirty than others, however none can compare to one with a complex spice palette that's been slowly simmered to perfection. I would like to share with you my mother's version.
As with all my recipes, I don't generally measure any of the spices or
condiments (thanks, Mama). I'll attempt to describe amounts, but I feel
that tastes differ and you may find yourself adding more or less of a
certain ingredient as you see fit.
INGREDIENTS:
(serves around 4)
4 large ripe tomatoes, chopped or 1 large can of diced tomatoes
3 large bell peppers (one of each: red, yellow/orange, green), sliced into strips
4-5 eggs
1 large white onion, finely chopped
1 whole garlic, minced or 2 tablespoons garlic paste
1 tablespoon tomato paste
2 tablespoons honey
1 jar pitted green or pitted black Kalamata olives, rinsed and drained
1 can chickpeas, rinsed and drained
2 tablespoons ground cumin
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon paprika
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1 tablespoon Harissa* (can substitute with Cayenne pepper and should be adjusted based on heat tolerance)
2 tablespoons lemon juice or rind of 1 preserved lemon, sliced
1 cup vegetable broth or water
olive oil for frying
salt/pepper to taste
1 bunch of cilantro or mint, chopped (optional)
*Harissa is a distinctly Tunisian roasted hot chilli paste
METHOD:
Starting Options:
There are several options you can consider at the beginning for both the tomatoes and the peppers. If using a can of diced tomatoes, proceed to the preparation steps of the recipe. If using fresh tomatoes:
- Quarter the tomatoes and simmer them in olive oil for 15 minutes, covered, until they soften.
- While still hot, carefully remove skins and mash them to make a chunky sauce.
- Place peppers on a foiled pan and roast under the broiler for about 20 minutes, turning them with tongs every 5 minutes. They should start to wrinkle and char on the surface.
- Take roasted peppers and place them on a plate. Quickly cover the plate with a large bowl, making sure there are no gaps between the two. They will need to steam for 10-15 minutes.
- Take steamed peppers, remove seeds, and peel off outer skin. Slice into strips.
- In a large pan with olive oil, fry your chopped onions and garlic until golden brown.
- Toss in the sliced peppers and continue frying until almost soft.
- Add the tomato sauce (either fresh or canned), tomato paste, Harissa (if available), all ground spices, lemon juice, and honey. If it appears too thick and dry, add vegetable broth/water to the mixture as appropriate to prevent scorching (but avoid a soup-like consistency).
- Stir evenly, cover, and bring heat down to low. Allow around 18-20 minutes to gently simmer.
- Check on the stew and stir. Taste the sauce to see what elements need adjusting. If it needs to be sweeter, add more honey; for citrus, add more lemon juice. Be careful when adding salt, as the olives and chickpeas you'll add in the next step will contribute a little towards that.
- When the sauce starts to become a little thicker and a nice red color, stir in the olives and chickpeas. Cover for a couple minutes to allow the simmering heat to return.
- Carefully crack the eggs directly on top of the stew, trying not to break the yokes. You'll want to crack enough to distribute evenly over the surface. Cover and simmer for an additional 10 minutes. The eggs will gradually poach from translucent to white, however, I prefer to finish the dish while the yokes are still runny.
- If preferred, finish with a light garnish of freshly chopped cilantro or mint. This dish is best eaten with either Arabic flat-bread or French baguette.
Watch my simplified Shakshouka tutorial!
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| "Don't eat us today! Eat Shakshouka instead!" |
If you're interested in another amazing dish from North Africa, be sure to check out my recipe and tutorial for Moroccan Bastilla, a savory chicken pie with sweet fried almonds in a filo-dough pastry!