Lablabi

Here's a new one: This soup made me wish I were sick so it could heal me.

Lablabi lablabi lablabi!

It’s probably unsurprising that the name of this soup is what made me want to make it. I didn’t really even need to read the recipe. Lablabi is so much fun to say that the only acceptable world is the one in which it’s delicious. And since this is the best of all possible worlds (sure, why not?): I love-lovey lablabi.

Here’s what you need to know about it:

• Chickpeas
• Tomato
• Cilantro
• Croutons
• Egg
• Harissa

Want it yet? Yes. Yes you do. Don’t play.

An internet search revealed that lablabi is sometimes referred to as “Tunisian breakfast soup.” While I’ve always been interested in the idea of breakfast soups, I generally don’t have the will to force myself out of bed early enough to make one. Here’s a secret, though: You can eat breakfast any time, just as anything can be breakfast. My personal favorite breakfast food is leftover Pad Thai (or Easy Mac, but let’s not admit that one).

I think my eyes were opened to this idea during a childhood trip to Japan, when I learned it was easier to get out of bed in the morning if you were looking forward to a breakfast of miso soup and cabbage salad with sesame dressing.

Unfortunately I had neither of those treats to force myself up today, but I was able to stumble into the kitchen with an extra 10 minutes to spare before work.

Just enough time to throw everything in a slow cooker and run out the door, and look forward to breakfast soup for lunch! I’m not well-versed in slow cookery, but adapting this recipe to use a slow cooker meant I could make soup and still go out to a nice dinner with friends. Win-win.

I mean, how could I skip dinner and miss this bread my friends?

I suppose that isn’t a terribly realistic idea if you aren’t lucky enough (or self-destructive enough, depending on your point of view) to live within walking distance of your place of employment, but for me it worked out wonderfully well. After one bite, I knew lablabi would be welcome in my tummy morning, noon or night.

Tummy? Ehhhhh, leaving it.

 

Cumin is lovely here, and the ground cumin dusting at the end made more of a difference than I would have guessed, particularly considering all the other elements.

For the garnish, you can buy prepared harissa – a North African chili condiment – or make your own. I’ve made it from lots and lots of ingredients, and from very few. The method here is the slapdash, pantry-utilizing, home-for-lunch method, and I was shocked by how well it worked. A particular treat were the capers, to the point that each time one of those squishy little saltlicks ended up on my tongue I waxed effusive.

Don’t like spice? The soup itself doesn’t pack heat, and you can leave out the harissa. Love spice? Pile on the harissa. Bespoke heat!

I used sourdough because I thought its namesake quality would be a nice addition to these flavors. Although this is admittedly a Tunisian dish, the North African roots made me think of the sourness of injera. Sourdough is probably one of many inauthentic things I did here, but when the end result is this good it makes me at least a little bit grateful for the cultural mishmash that this modern age fosters.

Croutons, more like cute-ons!

Also, due to my lack of morning-person-ness, I cooked my chickpeas the night before and stored them in their cooking liquid overnight. Easy-chickpeasy!

In summation: A yummy bowl full of a variety of textures and flavors that makes you feel ready to take on the world. I guess that's why I should have had it for breakfast.

Lablabi

Serves 6
Adapted from Twelve Recipes by Cal Peternell (and I swear I won't use any more of his recipes this month maybe)

For the chickpeas:
2 1/2 cups dried chickpeas, covered in water and soaked overnight, then drained
1/2 yellow onion, peeled
1 small carrot, peeled
1 stalk of celery
1 clove of garlic
1 bay leaf
1 sprig of thyme

Cook the chickpeas:
Put the dried chickpeas in a pot and fill with water until the chickpeas are covered by about two inches. Add a big pinch of salt and the rest of the ingredients in the "For the chickpeas" section and put it on the stove on high heat. Bring it up to a boil, and skim off the weird scum that forms on the surface with a spoon. Turn down the heat to achieve a steady simmer, and let it go until the chickpeas are tender. Tonight this took me about 1 1/2 hours, but it can vary so it's best to start testing them at about an hour. When the chickpeas are finished, remove and discard the onion, garlic, carrot, celery, thyme and bay leaf, then store the chickpeas in the liquid for use in the soup.

For the slow cooker:
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 yellow onion, diced
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons cumin seeds
1 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
2 garlic cloves, sliced
1 cup disced tomatoes
6 cups cooked chickpeas with cooking liquid

Slow-cook that stuff:
Put all ingredients in slow cooker, stir, and cook on high for four hours.

To finish:
leaves from one bunch cilantro
torn bread (sourdough was good), tossed with olive oil and baked at 400 degrees F for 7 minutes
1 poached egg per bowl
ground cumin
harissa (see below)

When about to serve, stir cilantro into soup. Put a handful of croutons in each bowl, then ladle soup on top of bread. Top with a poached (or soft-boiled, or none at all) egg, and sprinkle with ground cumin.

Place a spoonful of harissa on the egg, and reserve extra harissa to pass. The easy method of making harissa adapted from Twelve Recipes involves simply mixing the following ingredients:

2 tablespoons paprika
2 tablespoons water
2 cloves garlic, pounded to a pasted
2 tablespoons olive oil
splash of red wine vinegar
pinch of salt
teaspoon of capers