Chickpea Preserved Lemon Ramen
Preserved lemon is one of those ingredients that sounds fancy until you actually taste it and realize it's just been sitting in a jar of salt and citrus juice for a month doing basically nothing, which is sort of beautiful. This bowl came out of a Tuesday-night pantry raid where I had a can of chickpeas, a precious quarter of preserved lemon left from a tagine project, and zero interest in boiling chicken. The ras el hanout does most of the heavy lifting here, perfuming the broth with coriander and cumin and something almost floral that makes the whole kitchen smell like a souk at dusk. Ramen noodles don't belong in Morocco, technically, but they soak up spiced broth better than couscous ever would, and I'm not going to apologize for that. It's done in half an hour, it's vegan, and it will make you feel significantly more sophisticated than you probably deserve to feel on a Wednesday.
Lemon rind floating—Ras el hanout fills the bowl—Noodles drink it in
Let Me Tell You...
Moroccan food has a way of making you feel like you skipped a step, like somewhere between the pantry and the bowl there was supposed to be a clay pot and three hours and a grandmother watching you.
I did not have any of those things.
What I had was a jar of preserved lemons that had been eyeing me from the back of the fridge since November, a can of chickpeas with the dent in it that I kept meaning to use, and a spice rack that smelled incredible whenever I opened it.
The ras el hanout went in first, blooming in hot olive oil until it turned the color of old copper.
It's the difference between flat spice and actual depth.
I almost didn't add the preserved lemon because I was worried it would be too much, which is a very silly thing to worry about when you are making a dish whose entire personality depends on bright, salty citrus.
You scrape the flesh out and toss it, you mince the rind fine, and you add it near the end so the flavor stays sharp and doesn't cook down into something muddy.
The chickpeas went in with the broth and simmered until they were soft all the way through but still had some integrity, not the mashed-up situation you get when you leave them too long.
The kitchen smelled like someone who knew what they were doing lived there.
Scrape the insides clean with a spoon.
The rind is where the magic is.
Here is the part where I confess that I almost forgot to cook the noodles.
I was so focused on adjusting the broth, tasting it, adding a pinch more salt, tasting it again like someone on a cooking show, that the noodles were an afterthought.
They went in a separate pot, two minutes at a rolling boil, rinsed under cool water so they stayed springy instead of turning into a single beige mass.
Then I ladled the chickpea broth over them right in the bowl, which is how you do it when you want the noodles to stay distinct instead of dissolving into the soup.
Two minutes, then cold rinse.
They keep cooking in the hot broth once you pour it over.
There is something quietly triumphant about a bowl of soup that requires almost no effort but delivers something genuinely layered and specific, where the warmth of the spices and the brightness of the lemon and the heft of the chickpeas all pull in the same direction.
This is weeknight food that doesn't taste like it apologized for anything.
Eat it with good bread if you have it, or just eat it standing over the stove because sometimes that's the most honest way.
Ingredients
- 8 ounces dried ramen noodles (2 bricks, seasoning packets discarded)
- 1 can (15 ounces) chickpeas, drained and rinsed
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 medium yellow onion, finely diced
- 4 garlic cloves, minced
- 2 teaspoons ras el hanout
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/4 teaspoon ground coriander
- 3 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
- 1 cup water
- 1 quarter of a preserved lemon, flesh removed and rind minced fine
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- Kosher salt, to taste
- Fresh cilantro, roughly chopped, for serving
Preparation
- Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Cook ramen noodles for 2 minutes until just tender, then drain and rinse under cool running water to stop cooking. Set aside.
- Heat olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the diced onion and cook for 5-6 minutes, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent.
- Add the minced garlic, ras el hanout, cumin, and coriander to the pan. Stir constantly and cook for 60 seconds until the spices are fragrant and darkened slightly.
- Pour in the vegetable broth and water. Add the drained chickpeas and stir to combine. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat.
- Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered for 10-12 minutes, until the chickpeas are heated through and the broth has deepened in color and flavor.
- Stir in the minced preserved lemon rind and the fresh lemon juice. Taste and adjust salt as needed. Simmer for 1 more minute.
- Divide the cooked noodles between 2-3 bowls. Ladle the hot chickpea broth generously over the noodles. Top with fresh cilantro and any optional toppings.