Meriah’s Kitchen Hacks Part 1: The Principle of Multiples
I have said for years that I want to cook more, and once I got married (July 27, 2020), both my husband and I committed to doing that. But, you know, life is busy, and often it was easier logistically to stop at a restaurant while we were out doing other things, or maybe pickup takeout on the way home. And then COVID-19 happened, and there wasn’t a lot of “on the way home” for me anymore—plus, I did my best to avoid even those quick interactions. That made cooking at home a way of life—and it’s been wonderful!
Along the way, I’ve learned a few things that have made my life a lot easier in the kitchen, and I wanted to share in the hope that they make cooking easier and more fun for you. First is the principle of multiples. This is something I learned years ago. I spent way too much of my life looking for a pair of scissors or a hammer, because I had only one, and sometimes someone would use it and fail to put it back where it belongs—assuming it even has a “place.” The solution, I realized during college, was largely to buy several of each. I currently have maybe five pairs of scissors: positioned in pen cups, that one kitchen junk drawer, a small bedroom drawer for things like nail clippers and razors, and one in my toolbox for good measure. Even if one gets put somewhere weird or ends up covered by a stack of papers, I can always find another one. I also have three hammers, four or five tape measures, and a similar number of fingernail clippers. It’s awesome.
This year, I put that rule into action in my kitchen. I’ve been gradually buying extra measuring spoons, often at thrift stores, but I picked up more tablespoons on Amazon, since I didn’t have enough of those. Bonus kitchen hack: the biggest problem with my large array of measuring spoons was that I always had to dig through the kitchen tool drawer every time I needed one, and sometimes at a critical juncture when I really needed to add a spice to a sizzling or bubbling pot quickly, or when my hands were coated with food. So, I did what I’d often considered in the past, but rejected because I didn’t think I’d use them enough: I put every one into a coffee mug to keep on the counter. It’s seriously the best. When we eventually go back to normal and my cooking reduces in frequency—though hopefully never back to pre-COVID-19 levels—I will find a cover for the mug to keep the dust off of them. But in the meantime, they are getting used, almost daily.
Another item that used to cause me problems was dish towels. I often spent too much time digging through clean laundry piles (not mine, you understand) and the dryer looking for one of the few we had—some of which really weren’t very absorbent—and realized I needed to apply the principle of multiples to this situation too. So I hit Amazon and looked at reviews, and selected this 12-pack of dish towels. Now we always have several in the linen closet ready to go. If I spill water, like yesterday, I can just throw a couple on the floor to soak it up and go grab another. I can use a towel for baking and wipe my hands and mop up spills with it, and go grab another. Etcetera. It’s the best. They also help cut down on paper towel overuse, which makes me crazy.
I similarly realized that what the kitchen was missing was dishrags. We didn’t use them at home growing up, but my grandmother did, and now I appreciate their value. I also discovered that you can get them with a layer of plastic scrubby stuff on one side. They’re perfect for countertop cleanup, in particular when you don’t want to use the kind-of-gross scrubbing sponge you use to get food off of dishes. And, look, a 10-pack!
Other multiples that I appreciate are cutting boards, glass baking dishes (with lids!), silicone scrapers, spatulas, and mixing bowls. Most of these things are quite inexpensive, and they have more than earned their place in my kitchen. Best of luck to you in yours!
The Truth about Tabbouleh
I’ve always believed that most people who don’t like champagne (not counting people who don’t drink) really just dislike crap champagne: the cheap bottles that people usually buy and serve for New Years and other celebrations, with more of a sense of obligation than a desire to pop open something tasty. My theory has been proven valid on many occasions, when I’ve offered up the good stuff to haters and turned them into champagne fans.
Well, it turns out my crap theory of champagne also applies to tabbouleh—at least for me. I’ve never liked it. It’s always struck me as something I would like, but no matter how many times I try it: ugh. Gloppy, oily, and lacking in flavor. And then I went to Lebanon, and WOW. Turns out the real problem is that Americans suck at making tabbouleh. And it’s not just that it tastes so good: it makes me feel good when I eat it, like Popeye with his spinach.
This has a bit more bulgur than I was intending, but it was SO good. The sundried tomato-herb goat cheese was a wonderful addition.
To be honest, I didn’t even recognize it at first, when it was placed on a restaurant table next to me. It was so…green. But real tabbouleh isn’t supposed to be bulgur salad with some parsley. It’s supposed to be parsley salad with some bulgur. It’s typically dressed with lemon juice and high-quality olive oil, but not too much! Additions like chopped tomatoes and either finely chopped onions or sliced green onions were often on the side. And I like to eat it with crumbled herby goat cheese. It’s not much more complicated than that—or it doesn’t need to be. If a bowl of chopped parsley doesn’t sound appealing to you, just take my word for it–it’s fantastic. Give it a try.
Shortly after I returned from my trip I started looking at recipes online, and I was struck by the variety. Some recipes call for mint leaves, diced cucumber, garlic, couscous instead of bulgur, lime juice instead of lemon, and a variety of seasonings, though usually salt and pepper. The photos almost all show far more bulgur than was included in tabbouleh I was served in Lebanon, where I typically had to look closely to see if it was there at all. And once, while on a side-trip to Jordan, the taboula (as they spelled it) seemed to have none. I ended up picking a recipe that looked fairly good, and simply ignoring parts of it that didn’t appeal to me. And I made it with more bulgur than I met with in Lebanon, because I like it. Give this a try and see what you think.
Meriah’s Tabbouleh Recipe
Start with about a quarter cup or so of fine or extra-fine bulgur. I found this in an international food store, but you can also get it online. Regular bulgur is too large/present for this dish. If that’s all you can get, you might try running it through a food processor. Or just go for it—I won’t judge you. (Much.) Pour a half cup of warm water over the bulgur and let it sit. (If you’re not using fine bulgur, follow the instructions on the package.)
Meanwhile, get a whole ton of flat leaf parsley. OK, maybe not a ton. Recipes usually call for two bunches, but no two bunches are ever the same size. (Two bunches of parsley should make a nice side dish for four to six people, depending on how much they like it.) Get a bag and a bowl and make yourself comfortable. Remove most (nearly all) of the stems from the parsley, and discard the stems. I did this in bed while watching TV, and I recommend that approach. Also works well for preparing basil for pesto.
Rinse the parsley and mince it fine.
No—finer than that.
Chop a large tomato into small pieces. Use any kind of tomatoes, in a volume to suit you.
Mince four green onions—both the white and green parts. Feel free to use white, yellow, or red onions instead, and these can also be served on the side. My household onion hater didn’t complain about them, so use more if you’re a fan.
Drain the bulgur if needed, and mix all this stuff together.
Juice a large lemon into a bowl, and fish out all the seeds. Add a similar amount (or a bit less) of fruity extra-virgin olive oil. Because of the nature of the dish, people will be able to taste the oil, so quality matters here.
Mix that in, taste, and adjust as desired. Add salt and pepper if the spirit moves you.
Serve it, if that appeals to you, with herby goat cheese. Enjoy!
Note: Because of the lemon juice and its effect on the parsley, this won’t last long. Either make only as much as you’ll eat within about a day or so, or only add the juice and oil to the portion you’ll be eating that day.
It also occurred to me how easy it would be to mess with the recipe in rewarding ways. In fact, there are probably an infinite number of variations you could try. Go for it! Report back.
This article was made possible in part by support from the VCU Global Education Office, which sponsored the amazing trip to Lebanon.
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