What is Ouzi?
Ouzi is a Levantine rice dish that traditionally involves lamb, patience, and a grandmother who will judge your technique from three generations away. This version? It's the rebellious cousin who shows up with ground beef, frozen peas, and zero apologies. It's for when you want the soul of the dish but don't have three hours to whisper prayers over a pot.
For the Rice (The Foundation of All That Is Good)
1½ cups basmati rice, washed like you’re trying to remove the stains of history (soak 20 mins, then rinse until the water runs clear. Yes, really)
2 tbsp oil (olive, vegetable, whatever your ancestors used to survive)
1 cup frozen carrots and peas (add them straight from the freezer; defrosting is a capitalist plot to waste your time)
1 medium yellow onion, minced ( yalla cry freely, it’s therapeutic)
5 large garlic cloves, minced (if you don’t smell like garlic afterward, did you even cook?)
1½ tsp garlic powder (because fresh garlic wasn’t enough, this is excess, and we support it)
1 tsp onion powder (the introvert cousin of fresh onion, quiet but essential)
2 tsp 7-spice (baharat, if you don’t have it, improvise, like get allspice, cinnamon, cloves, coriander, cumin, black pepper, nutmeg.
1½ tsp coriander powder.
1 tsp Aleppo pepper (optional, but recommended, it’s like a gentle, smoky hug for your tongue)
1 tbsp chicken bouillon powder.
1½ tsp salt (or to taste, your ancestors salted their food with tears, but you do you)
½ tsp turmeric (just for color, because we eat with our eyes first.)
3 cups hot water (boiling, like your rage, handle with care)
For the Beef (The Plot Twist)
¾ lb ground beef (any fat content, lean is for people who have never known struggle)
2 tbsp oil (see above)
1 small yellow onion, diced (yes, another onion. Onions are the backbone of Palestinian cooking and also of crying in the kitchen)
¾ tsp 7-spice
¾ tsp coriander powder (repeat after me: coriander is not cilantro, fight me)
1 tsp garlic powder (because fresh garlic is a mood, but powder is a commitment)
1 tsp onion powder (the reliable friend who always shows up)
½ tsp Aleppo pepper (optional)
1 tsp salt
½ tsp black pepper (for that little kick, like a reminder that life isn’t bland)
½ tsp cinnamon (yes, cinnamon in savory beef. Trust the process. Trust your teta.)
For the Grand Finale
Toasted almonds, pine nuts, or whatever nuts you can afford (fry them in butter or ghee at the last second, this is non negotiable.
Fresh parsley, chopped (for color, for freshness, for the aesthetic of “I have my life together”- yani even if you don’t.
The Method (Or: How to Channel Your Rage Into Something Edible)
Step 1: The Beef (The Loud Part)
Heat oil in a pan over medium heat. Add the diced onion and sauté until translucent. This is your moment to vent. Talk to the onion, tell it about the algorithm. It won’t judge.
Add the ground beef. Break it up with a spoon like you’re dismantling oppressive systems. Cook until browned.
Add all the spices: 7-spice, coriander, garlic powder, onion powder, Aleppo pepper, salt, black pepper, cinnamon. Stir like you’re mixing a protest chant. Cook for another 2-3 minutes until fragrant. Set aside.
Step 2: The Rice (The Quiet Revolution)
In a separate pot, heat oil over medium heat. Add the minced onion and sauté until soft. Add the garlic and cook for 30 seconds until it smells like home.
Toss in the frozen carrots and peas. Saute for 2 minutes without defrosting. Do not apologize. Frozen veggies are a triumph of modern logistics.
Add the washed basmati rice and all the rice spices: garlic powder, onion powder, 7-spice, coriander, Aleppo pepper, bouillon, salt, turmeric. Stir gently, like you’re arranging words on a page.
Pour in the boiling water. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 15-20 minutes. Do not lift the lid. Do not stir. This is not a suggestion; this is a law.
When the water is absorbed and the rice is fluffy, remove from heat. Let it sit, covered, for 5 more minutes. This is the “resting” phase. Even rice needs to process its trauma.
Step 3: Assembly (The Act of Defiance)
Spread the rice on a large platter. Make it a mountain. Make it a work of art.
Top with the seasoned beef. Let it cascade like a promise.
Scatter the toasted nuts over everything. This is the crunch of hope.
Garnish with parsley. Because green is the color of resistance, and also of “this looks good on Instagram.”
Serving Suggestions
-Serve with plain yogurt or cucumber-yogurt salad (khiyar bi laban) for a cooling contrast. Life is hot; your food can be cool.
-Pair with a simple salad: tomatoes, cucumbers, lemon, olive oil. Freshness is a form of protest.
-Eat it with your hands if you want. Eat it with a fork if you must. Eat it standing over the sink if that’s your vibe. No judgment.
Notes From the Writer (Who Is Also a Cook, Apparently)
1)Washing the rice is non-negotiable. Unwashed rice = mushy rice = sadness. Rinse until the water runs clear.
2)Don’t skip the nuts. They’re the exclamation point at the end of a powerful sentence.
3)Turmeric is for color, not flavor. But also, everything golden feels like hope, so maybe it is flavor.
4)If you use canned veggies instead of frozen, reduce the water slightly. Canned veggies come with their own baggage (aka liquid).
5)Cook the onions until translucent, not browned. We’re building flavor, not burning bridges.
6)This recipe serves 4, but honestly, you’ll want to eat it all yourself. I won’t tell.
Why This Recipe?
Because Rand said so, and honestly, if Rand can make it, so can you. :)
Also, full disclosure: I didn’t add the dough. Not because I’m lazy (okay, maybe a little), but because I don’t actually know how to make it. I’m a terrible baker.
So make this Ouzi as is, or be an overachiever and make it with dough, and share it wide. If someone asks why you put cinnamon in the beef, just smile like you’re holding state secrets and say: “Because I contain multitudes.”
(Then immediately change the subject before they ask about the dough.)
