Bringing our brightest Lebanese deli salad into your kitchen

On any given lunchtime at our Pimlico deli, the salad that disappears fastest is the one built on smoky freekeh, sweet roast squash, whipped feta, herbs by the handful, and a slick of pomegranate molasses. It looks generous on the plate, tastes even better on a second forkful, and somehow feels both light and substantial in the way only a properly built Lebanese-inspired grain salad can be. Guests order it once, then quietly ask whether they can take a jar home. We always smile, because the recipe was designed to be made again in a kitchen far from ours.

Re-creating a restaurant favourite at home makes sense for reasons that go beyond the romance of it. The bowl in front of you on a Tuesday night can be better than the one we serve at lunch, simply because you can roast the pumpkin a touch darker, scatter herbs at the last minute, and adjust the acid until it sings. You also avoid the small disappointment of dressing that has had to sit in transit. Every element can be sourced with intention: freekeh from a mill you trust, olive oil pressed within driving distance, herbs picked up that morning.

What follows is a careful walk-through of how we put that bowl together at Ebury, with the kind of detail we share with our trainees during the 200-hour programme. We will look at the grain, the roast, the herbs, the dressing, and the small finishing flourishes that turn a salad into the salad. The principles translate wherever you happen to cook, and we have added notes for readers shopping in Australia, where seasonal rhythms and supplier networks shape how this comes together in your own kitchen.

The story behind the bowl

The dish began as a winter special, the kind of thing the kitchen experimented with on a quiet Tuesday and could not stop eating for the rest of the week. Freekeh, a young smoked wheat harvested green and toasted over open flame, gives the bowl a backbone that other grains cannot quite match. It carries a faintly campfire aroma that pairs naturally with the sweet caramelisation of roast squash and the cool tang of feta whipped with a little yoghurt and lemon.

We chose the Lebanese pantry as our starting point rather than as a destination. The combination of sumac, pomegranate molasses, mint and parsley is familiar to anyone who has eaten across Beirut, Tripoli or the Hawkesbury, but the framework around it is ours. Freekeh rather than burghul, roast vegetables rather than raw, feta folded through a creamy base rather than crumbled on top. The result is what we mean when we describe a Lebanese-inspired deli salad: respectful of tradition, comfortable enough to eat a plate of.

What makes the bowl work, more than any single ingredient, is the layering of temperatures, textures and intensities. Warm grains, warm vegetables, cool cheese, cool herbs. Soft, chewy, crisp. Smoky, sweet, sour, salty, peppery. We teach our trainees to think of salads as compositions rather than recipes, and this one is the clearest example we have.

Cooking the freekeh properly

Freekeh is sold in two main forms, cracked and whole, and the difference matters more than most supermarket packaging suggests. Whole freekeh holds its bite through a long, gentle simmer and looks beautiful under herbs; cracked freekeh cooks in fifteen minutes and produces a softer, almost risotto-like texture we use for spoonable salads. For this recipe we recommend whole, because the chew anchors the bowl against the softer roast squash and the whipped feta.

Rinse the grain under cold water, then simmer it in well-salted water or, ideally, a light vegetable stock. The ratio is roughly one part freekeh to two and a half parts liquid, and it will take between thirty-five and forty-five minutes to become tender without turning to mush. Drain off any excess liquid, return the grain to the warm pan, and let it sit off the heat with a lid on for ten minutes. This final rest is where freekeh firms up and takes on the glossy sheen you want.

Season the warm grain with a glug of olive oil, a pinch of salt and a small spoon of pomegranate molasses while it is still steaming. The molasses will bloom in the heat and tint the freekeh the faintest blush. Set it aside to cool, or spread it on a tray and it will be ready to use in ten minutes. Do not dress it again until assembly.

What you will need:

• A heavy-based saucepan with a tight-fitting lid
• A fine-mesh sieve for rinsing and draining
• A wide tray for cooling the grain quickly

Building the roast and the whipped feta

For the roast element we use Kent or butternut squash, cut into wedges with the skin on, though any dense-fleshed pumpkin works. In Australia, jap pumpkin holds its shape beautifully when roasted and is available year-round, while Queensland blue brings a sweeter, nuttier note in the cooler months from May through August. Cut the pieces roughly two centimetres thick so they brown without drying, then toss them with olive oil, salt, pepper and a generous pinch of ground cumin and Aleppo pepper.

Roast at 220°C on a lined tray, turning once, until the edges are deeply caramelised and the centres give easily to the tip of a knife. This takes about twenty-five minutes for thin wedges, longer for thicker chunks. Let the squash cool slightly before adding it to the bowl; hot vegetables wilt herbs and slacken the dressing.

The whipped feta is the part of the dish that surprises people most, because it transforms a familiar cheese into something almost dessert-like. Blend 200 grams of good feta with 80 grams of thick Greek yoghurt, a small garlic clove, a squeeze of lemon and a tablespoon of olive oil until smooth and billowy. Taste before adding salt; many feta brands are already assertive enough. If the mixture feels stiff, loosen it with a teaspoon of cold water.

A common question from our trainees is whether ricotta or labneh will substitute. Ricotta produces a milder, sweeter result that works well with honey and roasted fruit; labneh is closer to the original, with a slightly tangier finish. Both are valid, though they shift the dish in different directions.

Herbs, dressing and the final flourish

A Lebanese-inspired bowl lives or dies on its herbs. We use flat-leaf parsley, mint and a smaller measure of dill, picked rather than chopped where we can manage it, because bruised leaves blacken quickly. Wash and dry them thoroughly, then slice the parsley and mint across the grain so they release their oils without crushing them. Dill is delicate enough to be torn by hand.

The dressing is intentionally simple: extra virgin olive oil, lemon juice, a teaspoon of pomegranate molasses, a small spoon of ground sumac, salt and pepper. Whisk it loose in a small jar and taste before pouring. Sumac varies wildly in potency; a Lebanese or Turkish sumac bought from a Middle Eastern grocer will be sharper and more astringent than a dusty supermarket jar. Use it sparingly at first, then build.

To assemble, spread a generous swoosh of whipped feta across the base of a wide bowl. Pile the warm freekeh over the top, then tumble the roast squash through. Spoon over the dressing, then shower with herbs. From here the finishing flourishes begin: pomegranate seeds for jewel-like bursts of sweetness, toasted pine nuts or slivered almonds for crunch, a scatter of crispy chickpeas or shallots for texture, and a final dusting of sumac.

We finish ours with a drizzle of pomegranate molasses and a grinding of black pepper at the table, but a thin drizzle of good Australian honey also works if your pomegranate molasses is sharp. The point of this final stage is contrast, so resist the urge to overdress. Each element should remain readable on the fork.

Sourcing in Australia and making it your own

Most of what this salad needs is now available in Australian supermarkets, though the quality varies considerably. Coles and Woolworths stock freekeh in the health-food aisle, usually cracked rather than whole. Harris Farm is a reliable source for whole freekeh and for fresh herbs that have not been mistreated in transit. For pomegranate molasses, sumac and Aleppo pepper, look to any of the excellent Lebanese grocers in Sydney's Fairfield or Auburn, Melbourne's Brunswick or Coburg, or the Adelaide Central Market, where you will also find exceptional olive oils and fresh pita.

Australian extra virgin olive oils deserve a moment of their own. Producers in the Adelaide Hills, the Barossa, the Mornington Peninsula and Tasmania press oils with the kind of grassy, peppery intensity that punches through a lemony dressing beautifully. A finishing oil matters more than the oil you cook with, and this is a salad where the finishing oil is the dish.

Freekeh can be substituted with farro, spelt or pearl barley if you cannot find it, though each shifts the texture and cooking time. Bulgur wheat is the closest traditional cousin and works particularly well in summer when you want a lighter, almost tabbouleh-style result. For a gluten-free version, cooked green or brown lentils provide a similar earthiness, though they will need less dressing.

Easy swaps when ingredients run short:

• Freekeh for farro, spelt or cooked brown lentils
• Roast squash for charred zucchini, blistered cherry tomatoes or roasted cauliflower
• Whipped feta for labneh with a crumble of feta on top
• Pomegranate molasses for a reduction of red wine vinegar with a touch of honey

In Australia, the sweet pumpkin harvest runs from late autumn through early spring, which is when this bowl is at its most comforting. In the warmer months, lean harder on blistered tomatoes, charred zucchini and thin slices of cucumber. The framework holds. That is what we mean when we say this is a salad built to be lived with.