Cypriot Bulgur Wheat Pilaf (Pourgouri Pilafi)

If there is souvla on the coals in Cyprus, there is pourgouri in the kitchen. Coarse bulgur wheat, toasted vermicelli, tomato, and a piece of cinnamon bark with a few cloves dropped in as it cooks. It is the default starch on the island and it is better than that description makes it sound.

Two details do most of the work. The vermicelli, called fides, is crushed and toasted in the oil until it is properly brown, which gives the whole pot a nutty depth. And the tomato is cooked down hard before any liquid goes in, until it darkens and stops smelling raw.

The cinnamon and cloves are the Cypriot signature. Whole, not ground, and lifted out at the end, they leave a warmth in the background that mainland Greek pilafs do not have and that is unmistakably Cypriot the moment you taste it.

Key preparation steps

1. Soften onion in olive oil.
2. Toast crushed vermicelli until nut brown.
3. Cook down fresh tomato and tomato paste.
4. Add bulgur and stock, simmer, then steam off the heat.

What grade of bulgur do I need?

Coarse or medium bulgur, sold in Cypriot and Middle Eastern grocers as pourgouri or coarse burghul. It stays as separate grains with real bite after cooking, which is exactly what a pilaf needs.

Fine bulgur, the sort used for tabbouleh, is the wrong product here. It needs only soaking, not simmering, and cooked this way it turns to a paste. If the packet does not say, look at the grain: it should be visibly bigger than couscous.

Why toast the vermicelli?

Because toasted vermicelli tastes completely different from pale vermicelli. Crushed in your hand and fried in olive oil for two or three minutes until it is the colour of a hazelnut, it gives the pilaf a nutty background that the bulgur alone cannot.

Keep it moving and do not walk away. Thin pasta goes from nut brown to burnt in about twenty seconds, and burnt fides makes the entire pot bitter.

How much liquid does pourgouri need?

Two parts liquid to one part bulgur by volume, counting the tomato as part of the liquid. That is less than rice needs, and it is the commonest thing people get wrong when they cook bulgur for the first time.

Measure with the same cup throughout, which is how Cypriot cooks do it and why the ratio is passed on so reliably. Too much liquid gives a wet, claggy pilaf that no amount of steaming will dry out.

Why does it rest off the heat?

The last of the liquid is absorbed by residual heat rather than by the hob. Ten minutes covered with a tea towel under the lid, off the heat, is what turns a slightly wet pan into separate fluffy grains.

The tea towel catches the condensation that would otherwise drip back onto the surface. Then fork it through rather than stirring, because stirring bulgur while it is hot breaks the grains and makes it gluey.

What matters in this dish