مجدرة
مجدرة — pockmarked, for the lentils in the rice.
Lentils and rice cooked in one pot under a mound of onions fried well past golden, which is where the whole flavour comes from.
Named from the ingredients as written, including those carried in from sub-recipes. This is not a guarantee — check the labels on what you actually buy, and note that a product’s recipe can change.
Rinse the rice in several changes of cold water until the water you pour off is almost clear, as the steamed basmati rice in this collection describes, then drain it in a sieve.
Bring the lentils and the 1 litre of water to the boil in a pan and skim off the foam that rises in the first few minutes.
Simmer uncovered for 15-20 minutes, until a lentil is tender to the tooth but still holding its skin and its shape.
Stop there rather than at soft. They cook a second time with the rice, and lentils already collapsing at this stage turn the finished pot to brown paste.
Drain them over a bowl and keep the cooking liquid.
Measure out 400ml of that liquid, topping up with water from the kettle if there is not enough.
Pour the oil into a wide, heavy pan and set it over medium heat.
Add the sliced onions, which will fill the pan to the rim, and turn them through the oil.
Cook for 25-30 minutes, stirring every couple of minutes and more often towards the end, until the onions have collapsed to a fraction of their volume and gone deep chestnut brown.
Watch them go pale, then straw, then gold, then brown, and keep going through the gold. Golden onions taste sweet and thin; it is the last five minutes, when the edges are almost too dark, that gives this dish everything it has.
Keep the heat moderate through all of it. Onions rushed over a high flame scorch at the edges while the middle is still raw, and burnt onion is bitter through the whole pot in a way nothing later covers.
Lift half the onions out with a slotted spoon onto kitchen paper and scatter a pinch of salt over them. They crisp as they cool and go on top at the end.
Stir the cumin, coriander and allspice into the onions and oil left in the pan and cook for 30 seconds, until they smell toasted.
Add the drained rice and stir for 1-2 minutes, until every grain is coated and glossy.
Tip in the drained lentils, the 400ml of reserved liquid and the 6g of fine salt.
Bring it to a boil, then turn the heat as low as it will go.
Put a tight lid on and cook for 12-15 minutes, until the loud bubbling has died to a faint hiss and only a wisp of steam escapes at the rim.
Leave the lid alone for the whole of that time. There is no water boiling in there by now, only steam, and every lift lets it out — the top of the pot stays chalky while the base scorches.
Take the pan off the heat with the lid on and stand it for 10 minutes.
Fluff the rice and lentils together by lifting and turning with a fork rather than stirring with a spoon, which crushes the grains.
Season with the ground peppercorns and taste for salt.
Pile the reserved crisp onions over the top.
Serve warm or at room temperature, with the yoghurt alongside to cut the sweetness of the onions.
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Sweet, and much sweeter than a plate of lentils and rice has any right to be. Onions fried to deep brown are genuinely sweet — their sugars have concentrated and browned — and there is a lot of onion here. Against that sweetness the lentils are earthy and slightly mineral, and the rice is plain and buttery from the oil. Cumin is the largest of the spices and is warm and earthy; coriander is citrusy; allspice is the one that makes it taste Levantine rather than generically Middle Eastern, and it is a small quantity doing a great deal. Salt is essential and easily under-done. And then the yoghurt, which is the acid the pot entirely lacks — cool, sour, and the thing that makes a second plateful appealing.
Frying onions for the best part of half an hour, which is one of the great domestic smells and gets progressively deeper as they brown. Then the ground spices going in, which is a brief sharp burst. The finished dish smells sweet and toasty rather than spiced, which surprises people.
Three things: separate grains of rice, lentils that hold their shape and give under the tooth, and onions that are both soft and crisp depending on which ones. The crisp ones on top are the textural interest in a dish that would otherwise be uniformly soft, which is exactly why the recipe splits them. Yoghurt adds a cool smoothness.
The onions are the soundtrack and they are informative: a loud violent spitting for the first minute as their water comes out, settling into a steady frying sound, and then quietening noticeably as they dehydrate. When the noise drops and the smell turns from sweet to toasty, they are close.
Sweet onion first and strongly. Then the earthy lentils across the middle. Cumin and allspice come through behind them. The finish is sweet and toasty and quite long, and the yoghurt is what cuts it — a mouthful with yoghurt and a mouthful without are noticeably different experiences, which is the point of serving it alongside rather than stirring it in.
Hot or warm, with cold yoghurt, and that contrast matters. It is also genuinely good at room temperature, which makes it a useful dish for a table.
Yoghurt, which is effectively part of the dish. A sharp salad — tomato, cucumber, parsley, lemon — which is what a Levantine table would put beside it. Pickles. Flatbread. Where it fails is next to anything else sweet, and served without acid of any kind, which makes it heavy going after a few mouthfuls.
Easy and it requires patience with the onions, which is the only demanding part. Slicing 700g of onion is a genuine job and frying them properly takes longer than any recipe admits.
Very low. Lentils, rice and onions. It is one of the cheapest complete meals in the collection.
A wide frying pan for the onions and a heavy pan with a tight lid for the rice and lentils. A sieve.
Any time. It is a year-round staple.
None.
Onions deep brown, shrunk to a fraction of their volume, some pieces genuinely crisp. Lentils holding their skins. Rice with the liquid gone and steam hissing faintly at the rim.
Rice in separate grains, lentils intact and yielding, onions on top crisp and those folded through soft and sweet.
Nothing unusual. A pan with 120ml of hot oil and 700g of wet onion in it spits and deserves respect for the first minute.
Under-frying the onions, which is the fault — golden is not far enough, and the dish tastes of nothing much without properly dark ones. Overcooking the lentils at the first stage, so they collapse into paste in the second. Not rinsing the rice. Too little oil, so the onions steam rather than fry. Stirring the reserved onions in, which loses the crisp layer. And serving it without yoghurt or anything acidic, which makes it heavy.
Bland: the onions were not taken far enough, and there is no fixing it at the end — fry a fresh batch properly and put them on top. Mushy: the lentils were overcooked before they went in. Sticky rice: not rinsed, or too much liquid. Burnt onions: uneven slicing, or the heat was too high at the end — the last few minutes go fast. Dry: a splash more of the lentil liquid.
Very well. Make it a day ahead and reheat, keeping some onions back to fry fresh for the top. It is arguably better on the second day.
Three days in the fridge and it is very good cold.
Well, covered, with a splash of water. Crisp onions on top do not survive it, so keep some back and fry them fresh if it matters.
Two months, and the texture holds up reasonably.
Excellent — this is a dish that is routinely made in quantity and eaten across several days. Good cold, good stuffed into flatbread, good under a fried egg.
Doubles easily. The onions are the bottleneck and 1.4kg of them is a long half hour in two pans.
Green or brown lentils hold their shape; red lentils collapse entirely and will not work. Bulgur wheat in place of rice makes the Palestinian and Syrian version and is arguably better — nuttier, and it stands up to the onions. Any long-grain rice does. The oil can be olive, which is more traditional in some places and gives a heavier result.
Vegan without the yoghurt, which is easily replaced with a plant yoghurt or a tahini sauce. Vegetarian as written. Gluten-free with rice, not with bulgur. Nut-free. Contains milk through the yoghurt, which is served alongside.
Green or brown lentils, not red. Basmati or bulgur. Allspice, whole and ground fresh if possible, since it loses its aromatics quickly. Plain full-fat yoghurt.
It is already about as cheap as a meal gets. Buy lentils and rice in large bags. Onions are cheapest bought loose in quantity, and this recipe uses a lot of them.
Excellent. Lentils are among the lowest-impact protein crops there are, everything in it is shelf-stable, and it feeds four for very little.
Around 560 calories a serving. It is a genuinely complete protein — around 18g per serving from the lentils and rice together — plus a great deal of fibre. Most of the fat is the oil the onions were fried in. It is one of the more nutritionally sound main courses in this collection and one of the cheapest.
Worth it, and it is the best-value main course in the collection. Three cheap ingredients and half an hour of frying onions produce something genuinely delicious, nutritionally complete and better the next day. The whole dish rests on taking the onions further than feels comfortable — do that and the rest looks after itself.
The Levant, and it is old.
Mujaddara — مجدرة. Also mujadara, mejadra, megadarra. In Egypt a very close relative is koshari, though that is a more elaborate dish.
moo-JAD-da-ra.
From the Arabic root for smallpox or pockmark — the lentils speckling the rice are said to look like pox marks. It is not a flattering image and it is the standard etymology.
This is one of the few dishes in this collection with a genuinely old written record: a recipe for mujaddara appears in Kitab al-Tabikh, a Baghdadi cookery book compiled in 1226 by al-Baghdadi, where it is described as a dish of the poor. It has stayed that: mujaddara is proverbially the food of ordinary people and of fasting, and there is an Arabic saying to the effect that it is the dish of the poor. The reason it works nutritionally is the same reason that pulse-and-grain pairings appear independently in every cuisine on earth — lentils are short of methionine and rich in lysine, cereals are the reverse, and together they supply a complete protein without meat. Mujaddara fed people well for centuries before anybody knew why.
It is Lenten and fasting food for Levantine Christians, everyday food for everybody, and a dish with a strong association with thrift and with home. It is also one of the standard things made in quantity for a crowd.
Every day, fasting periods, and any table that needs feeding cheaply.
The onions, fried until very dark, and split between the pot and the top. Some traditional versions fry them almost black and use the darkened oil as the cooking fat for the rice, which is worth trying.
Very little. Rice has displaced bulgur in many places, which is a real change — bulgur is the older grain here and gives a nuttier, chewier dish.
Bulgur instead of rice in Palestine and parts of Syria. Egypt's koshari adds pasta, chickpeas, tomato sauce and a vinegar-garlic dressing and is a street food rather than a home dish. Some Lebanese versions purée part of the lentils, giving a much softer result called mudardara.
It takes the onions further than most recipes ask and reserves a good part of them for the top, which gives a crisp layer as well as a sweet one. Otherwise it is orthodox.
The 1226 Kitab al-Tabikh reference is the standard citation.