The Early Autumn Aroma of Couscous

As I walk through town on an errand just before lunch, I smell caramelized onions and saffron. I’m in a small town in Normandy. Caramelized onions and saffron aren’t exactly typical Norman aromas—the traditional smells of this lush, dairy-producing and seafood-rich region are round, warm and defined by butter.

But today the aromas of France are more varied. As France once set out to colonize the world, so its colonies have come to inhabit its culture, and nowhere is that more evident than in its cuisine. Caramelized onions and saffron are the aromas of couscous, a traditional dish of the Maghreb, the North African region that comprises the former French colonies of Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia, but by now it is almost a part of French cuisine. As I walk through that luscious onion and saffron aroma, I am inspired to make couscous for dinner.

The word couscous, probably from the Arabic kuskus and Berber in origin, is both the name of the dish and the name of the steamed wheat granules that are its basic ingredient. The dish is simple: a soup composed of readily available ingredients—usually lamb or chicken, seasonal vegetables and that pinch of saffron—served on top of the fluffy steamed couscous. (To avoid confusion here, when referring to the steamed grains couscous is italicized.) It can also be elegant, and it is a perfect early autumn dish, because vegetables are at their end-of-summer peak and full of sweet flavor.

I needed to assemble a few ingredients before making the couscous, key among them a group of happy eaters, for couscous is a dish to share. Its Berber origins imply many diners around the table, delighting in a delicious meal. So I invited several guests, including two friends who grew up in Algeria and hold dear memories of their country and its aromatic cuisine. Perfectionists both, they would test my mettle as a couscous cook.

Muddled history

I learned to make couscous from another Algerian friend, named Dahlila. She’s lived in France most of her adult life, but she still misses her native country. One way she brings it alive is in the kitchen. With Dahlila as culinary guide, I learned the fine points about couscous that she had learned from her grandmother.

The dish has something of a muddled history. References to it precede the Arab arrival in the Maghreb between the 6th and 7th centuries, and by the 14th century, couscous was clearly established in Maghreb culture. One legend recounts that a 15th-century North African visitor to Damascus was dying, and the prophet Muhammad appeared, instructing the caregivers to feed him couscous; the visitor survived, confirming the value of couscous in the Maghreb.

Couscous was originally made with salted water and freshly ground wheat. Berber women would gather to make couscous for the year, sprinkling salted water over the coarse-ground wheat and gently rolling the mixture with their fingers until small granules formed. These were dried and preserved, providing cooks with a culinary short cut, since the little dried-wheat granules cook quickly.

Today couscous comes in different sizes but the most desirable is called rus el neml, or ant’s head. Called couscous fin in French, it’s what any couscous cook worth her salt uses, according to Dahlila. When properly prepared, it becomes light, fluffy and addictive. When steaming the couscous, I follow Dahlila’s instructions to the letter. They are precise, and the result is extraordinary.

Use your imagination

For the soup that accompanies it, however, I sometimes let fancy fly. I like to use lamb collar, or if I can’t find that, blade chops— both have that delicious elasticity characteristic of lamb, and of a good couscous.

With all the ingredients at hand, I set to work with my essential tools: a couscoussier—a big, fat steamer—and a big, shallow wooden bowl for tossing the couscous between steamings.

I browned the lamb in the bottom of the couscoussier, then sautéed gorgeous, juicy onions until they were caramelized, to give the broth depth. I added fresh diced tomatoes and a generous pinch of saffron, cooking them long enough to loosen the caramelized juices on the bottom of the pan. Then I added a big bunch of cilantro and enough boiling water to cover the meat and onions, which cook gently for about a half-hour. I added carrots and, after another half-hour, zucchini and potatoes. Depending on the season, turnips, rutabaga, artichokes, celery root, leeks or parsnips can be used. It’s important to check the water level and the seasoning as the soup cooks, adjusting as you go.

My favorite part is preparing the couscous, which I begin before the guests arrive and finish right before we sit down at the table. Dahlila’s ancestral method calls for extra-virgin olive oil to be very gently rubbed into the fine couscous granules, using fingers and palms, then lightly salted warm water to be gently worked in the same way, two or three tablespoons at a time. A wet cotton dishtowel is tied around the rim where the steamer top meets the bottom, to prevent steam from escaping, the couscous put into the top and steamed over rapidly boiling water—or over the cooking soup, which adds delicate flavor—for 30 minutes, then removed to a shallow bowl or flat surface, where more water is gradually worked in. The entire process is repeated twice; after the third steaming the grains are turned out and a generous amount of butter worked in.

Last minute tweaks

As Dahlila was teaching me to do this many years ago, she recounted how her grandmother hand-rolled their family’s couscous and added camel’s milk butter at the very end. “It’s a delicious butter,” Dahlila said, “and my family in Algeria still uses it.”

By the time the guests arrive the couscous should have just one more steaming to go. When Louis, the first guest to arrive, inhaled the soup’s aroma he immediately tasted it. “Do you have any ras el hanout?” he asked, referring to a North African mixture of sweet spices that includes ginger, turmeric, cinnamon, allspice and cardamom. I did, and he seasoned the broth.

As he did his tweaks, I did mine on the red pepper paste called harissa, the typical condiment for couscous. I buy it ready-made, and add garlic and a spoonful of piment d’Espelette, to round out its flavor.

Everything was soon ready. We took the warm bowl of couscous to the table. I dusted it with cinnamon, a trick I’d learned from a Moroccan cook. I brought the soup in separately, and everyone served themselves—a fluffy heap of the buttery couscous topped with the meat, vegetables and broth. The harissa is optional, on the side.

While a deep red wine always fits the bill with couscous, a chilled rosé is even better at this time of year, when late summer lingers and the air is still warm.

COUSCOUS SOUP/SOUPE POUR LE COUSCOUS

8 to 10 servings

1-1/3 cups dried chickpeas

1/2 tsp baking soda

3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

2-1/2 lb lean lamb or beef shoulder or collar, cut in about 3/4-inch pieces

5 medium onions, diced

1 pound (500 g) tomatoes, cored and coarsely chopped (or 2 tbsp tomato paste)

2 generous pinches saffron

1 tbsp coarse sea salt

2-1/4 quarts (10 cups) hot water

2 pounds carrots, cut in 1-inch lengths on a slight diagonal

1-1/2 pounds turnips, peeled, trimmed, cut in 1-inch pieces

1-1/2 pounds zucchini, trimmed, cut in 1-1/2 inch lengths on a slight diagonal

1-1/2 pounds potatoes, peeled, cut in 1-1/2 inch pieces

1. Place chickpeas in a pan and cover by 2” with water. Stir in baking soda and bring water to a boil. Remove pan from heat, cover, and let sit for 1 hour. Drain chickpeas, cover with fresh water, bring to a boil over medium-high heat, reduce heat and boil gently until chickpeas are nearly tender, about 1 hour.

2. Heat the oil in a couscoussier or a large, saucepan over medium heat. When the oil is hot but not smoking, add meat and brown well on all sides. Add onions, stir and cook until deep golden, about 10 min, then crumble in the saffron. Season with salt and add tomatoes. Stir, scraping up the caramelized residue from the bottom of the pan. Add 1 cup (250 ml) hot water. Stir and cook 4 to 5 min, then add 2 qts (2 l) hot water, bring to a boil, cover and reduce heat so the liquid simmers merrily. Cook until meat begins to turn tender, about 30 min.

3. Add carrots and chickpeas, bring to a boil covered, reduce the heat so the liquid boils gently and cook until carrots resist slightly when tested with a sharp knife, about 15 min. Add all remaining vegetables and cook until tender, about 30 min. Check seasoning and remove from heat. The soup is ready to serve, over individual helpings of steamed couscous, but it will be even better if it sits for an hour or two and is reheated. Traditional couscous is steamed three times, over boiling water or the cooking soup, in a detailed and time-consuming process. If you are using prepared, pre-steamed couscous, follow the recipe on the package.

Susan Herrmann Loomis teaches cooking classes in Normandy and Paris. www.onruetatin. com. Find her cookbooks in the France Today Bookstore.

Originally published in the September 2012 issue of France Today