There are plenty of fast foods that you can make better at home: this burger will beat anything that ever crawled out from under any golden arches, or, if Taco Bell is your thing, you can easily beat the experience at home by cooking up a bowl of oatmeal and throwing it in a tortilla. But there are some foods that are better never attempted at home; foods that benefit from economies of scale such that cooking them at home makes no sense.

Kushari is one of those foods. In Cairo, you don’t have to walk far to find a kushari stand, but the complexity of the operation — and these places only serve the one dish — is a clue to its unsuitability for adaptation at home. After indicating just how much kushari you’re interested in eating you can watch your bowl head down the line where it is filled from several pots, one man to a pot: rice, noodles, lentils, chickpeas, fried onions and tomato sauce.

Yes, this is really a dish with both rice and pasta, lentils and chickpeas. It’s a starch-lover’s dream, packed with affordable calories — which partially explains its popularity in Egypt. Preparing these ingredients to all be ready simultaneously is something the many employees of the kushari joint have down to a science. Doing it at home, unless you have a ready brigade of helpers and extra stove space, is a challenge. And for the humble result , you are better off just hitting up the local kushari place.

Unfortunately, outside of Egypt such restaurants are rare. (I did once locate kushari in Minneapolis, a special at the Lyndale Grill and Grocery.) So for those of you with a craving that can’t be satisfied and some patience, here’s what I did: my stove has four burners; I used three of them (the fourth being taken up by a pot of old frying oil that I am too lazy to clean). On one, I started a pot of rice. At 30 minutes, this is one of the longest cooking items. In a pan on another burner, I started caramelizing some onions. In a large pot on the third burner, I brought water and lentils to a boil.

After 20 minutes, the lentils were toothsome and ready to come out. But don’t drain them! You need that hot lentil water! I used a mesh strainer to fish out as many lentils as possible from the water and placed them in a covered bowl to stay warm. After bringing the water back to a boil, I added in broken vermicelli.

In the meantime, the onions had become suitably browned. Transferring them to a small bowl, I quickly wiped out the skillet and began heating olive oil, garlic and red pepper flakes until they were fragrant. To this, I added a can of tomato puree (actually a can of pureed diced tomatoes, but buying them pre-pureed would have been easier) and let the tomato sauce simmer. Soon, the vermicelli was within a minute of being done so I added a can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed, to the cooking pasta in order to warm them. If you wanted to make this dish more complicated, you could start with dried chickpeas.

The assembly of kushari proceeds in layers: a base of rice, topped with pasta and chickpeas, topped with lentils, garnished with fried onions and finally covered in tomato sauce. Whenever I ate this in Egypt it was served with a thin, vinegary hot sauce which I simulated at home by blending a little sriracha into a lot of rice vinegar.

Although ostensibly a day devoted to giving thanks, Thanksgiving for many descends into gluttony — or at the very least eating a bit too much food that is a bit too rich. Whatever effect this might have on one’s soul, it definitely takes a toll on the body, as the pending post-thanksgiving naps will attest. The days after Thanksgiving give no respite, either: these are days devoted to the consumption of leftovers, constructing, eating and immediately regretting ever-more ridiculous “Thanksgiving sandwiches”. I’m not saying I don’t like Thanksgiving — quite the opposite, I assure you — just that it has a way of making one’s body feel pushed to the limit.

Anticipating this food binge in the days before the big day, I’m filled with a puritanical need to purge. For about three days before Thanksgiving I adopt an almost-vegan diet, avoiding meat, heavy fats and anything that feels like it will linger past its welcome in my gut. Simple meals of grains and vegetables — in small portions — is what I crave before a meal that is complicated, rich and excessively-portioned.

If you too are both excited for and slightly dreading Thanksgiving indulgence, or if in the aftermath of the holiday you’re ready to give up on the damned leftovers, make a meal of this dal and flatbread, inspired by Jeffery Alford and Naomi Duguid’s Flatbreads & Flavors.

Dal

• ½ medium onion, sliced thin
• 2 tsp vegetable oil
• 2 cloves of garlic, minced or pressed through a garlic press
• 1 cup red lentils
• 4 cups water
• 1 tsp salt
• ¼ tsp black pepper, ground
• ¼ tsp ground cumin
• Dash ground turmeric
• Cinnamon stick, a couple of inches long
• ½ cup cilantro

Fry onion in vegetable oil in 4 qt saucepan over medium-high heat until edges start to brown. Stir in garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add lentils and water and stir to combine. Add salt, spices and cinnamon stick. Bring to a boil, then simmer over low heat, covered, for 20 to 25 minutes, until porridge-like. Off heat, stir in cilantro and adjust seasoning. Serve warm.

Puri

• 2 cups whole wheat flour
• 1 cup all purpose flour
• ¼ tsp black pepper, ground
• ¼ tsp ground cumin
• 2 tsp salt
• 1 cup yogurt
• ½ cup water

Pulse flours, spices and salt together in the bowl of a food processor fitted with the metal blade to evenly distribute. Add yogurt and water and process until dough has formed a cohesive, smooth ball — about two minutes in my processor. Place dough in an oiled bowl, cover, and let rest about 1 hour.

Divide the dough into 3 oz balls — you should have 14. Allow the balls to rest 20-30 minutes. After the dough balls have rested, begin rolling them out: they should be rolled as thin as possible, as if for tortillas.

Heat a dry large skillet over medium high heat. Cook one flatbread at a time, flipping after bubbles appear all over the surface of the bread. The bread should be dark brown, almost charred in spots. Store cooked breads in a towel to keep warm while you prepare the rest of the breads.

Note: Purists will note this is not actually puri, which should be fried in oil. You might recall the whole point of this meal was to avoid fats like that — if it makes you happier think of these as puri-inspired flatbreads. Also, if you can get it, substitute 3 cups Indian atta flour for the flour in the recipe.

Serve the dal and puri together, using torn off bits of bread to scoop up the lentils.

Followers of my previous blogging efforts might remember a summary of food I was eating in Egypt and a particularly appetizing picture of the Egyptian delicacy known as kushari. To refresh your memory:

I haven’t had kushari since I was in Egypt, which was in the summer of 2006. It is not something I have ever tried to make at home since it involves making rice and pasta and lentils and chickpeas and tomato sauce and fried onions and is nowhere near good enough to justify the effort. Plus, in Egypt, a bucketful could be had for about 50 american cents.  So imagine my joy when I walked into the Lyndale Grill & Grocery for a gyro but saw on the specials board “koushary”. Here it is, hot out of the microwave:

This was an especially felicitous discovery since I was working through a daunting hangover all day and there’s nothing better for it. Here’s a detail shot so you can see all the delicious ingredients:

So, how does Minneapolis kushari compare with the real thing? You can see that the only pasta here is rigatoni, whereas in the Egyptian version there were two kinds of vermicelli and something like ditalini. The smaller pasta shapes give the kushari a more cohesive texture. Also, one of my favorite things about kushari in Egypt was the vinegary hot sauces that came on the side and could be applied liberally. The tomato sauce on the Minneapolis kushari was very good and nicely spicy so hot sauce wasn’t strictly necessary but it would have been nice. On the other hand, the use of yellow (probably too much to call it saffron rice) instead of the plain white used in Egypt added flavor to a dish that is so heavy on starch that it leans to the bland side. Eating kushari out of a foam tray rather than a plastic bucket was not really the same, and a metal fork was no improvement over a plastic spoon but, such are the trials one must endure. In any case, kushari is not something to be analyzed, it is something to be shoveled down the hatch.