If you’re not convinced that eating barley is a great way to spend the summer, think again—unless it’s winter where you are, in which case, I guess you can just continue thinking steadily. My mother got me a second-hand Lynn Bedford Hall cookbook for Christmas—Ms Bedford Hall, the author of one of my already most-beloved, most-1980s cookbooks, and this new-to-me volume was every bit as full of camp panache and gelatine despite being published in the futuristic year of 1993. Rocket is a “trend-setting herb”, tuna mousse is “ubiquitous” but “impressive”, while chilled broccoli and apple soup has “a quiet dignity”. It’s all charming stuff. It’s also surprisingly practical, and by and large alluring to both cook and eater—even the light-refracting wobbly solidity of gelatine starts to call one’s name after some persistent repetition and my desire to “add a splash of drama to a ladies’ luncheon”. From this volume, I’ve lightly adapted her spiced pearl barley pilaf recipe and in turn, urge you to adapt it further as you see fit. This pilaf is a stunningly bolstering dinner or packed lunch, and so delicious (and cheap, or as Ms Bedford Hall would say, “economical”) that it overcomes all unphotogenic shortcomings.

Not that the photogenic qualities of a meal should override matters of flavour, texture, and method, but we live in a society and pearl barley is not the most fanfare-inducing of ingredients. If you are elevated of palate and true of heart you’ll of course already know that pearl barley is a wonder. Soft and puffy with a rice-ishly fragrant, lightly grainy flavour, just as good cold as hot, and a decently inexpensive contribution to your protein and fibre levels.

With a dash of woody cinnamon and the muted fire of cloves percolating, plus some cumin because there’s not a single grain it can’t embiggen; swollen sultanas for bursts of grown-up sweetness and the resiny elegance of thyme, this pilaf is calm and delicious and versatile. Indeed, so versatile, that its calming qualities may quickly subside as you become overloaded with options. For example:

• Eat it hot as a main, or cold as a salad.
• Consider a scattering of crumbled feta.
• You either like fruit in savoury dishes or you don’t, so leave out the sultanas or add diced dried apricots or dried cranberries.
• Pomegranate seeds are a given, particularly if you’re serving this cold and want to lure people in with some razzle-dazzle.
• Similarly, toasted pine nuts or chopped pistachios if you’re feeling flush; walnuts, pumpkin seeds and hazelnuts would all work well, too, and none of us are above toasted sunflower seeds.
• Fresh mint would beguile if serving this cold; I think thyme is otherwise best but I’d never say no to rosemary in anything.
• I haven’t even started on how you can substantiate this with a can of drained chickpeas or lentils, or simmer dried lentils till tender alongside the barley—I suggest brown or puy lentils, something that sturdily holds its shape.
• Which of course leads us to vegetable augmentation: fried eggplant cubes; diced roasted pumpkin, butternut or beetroot; all welcome here.
• Finally, if you have something pickled—these sumac red onions, for example—it will add treble-y zest to an otherwise earthy dish.

See what I mean? The decisions never cease!  

The good news is: I made it exactly as you see in the recipe above, without any folderol or jacking up, and could not have been happier. The rich, buttered-toastiness and crunch of almonds against the acquiescing, saturatedly sweet sultanas, the hot pinprick of cloves breathing life into the mellow, nubbly grains. The recipe is plain, yes, but it’s also plain delicious. These are simply some ways to make it delicious and yours.

It took me weeks to get this post completed (mostly because of a cruel ships-in-the-night approach to having both time and brainpower) despite reminding myself that people really barely need food blogs ever, let alone right at this convergence of so many time-consumingly terrible things happening in the world (and I’m notbeing vague here, just concise). The self-imposed stress is largely because I need this food blog more than I need anyone else to need it, if that makes sense. But anyway, thanks for your patience.    

If, after this, you’re in the mood for more grainy, gently hearty recipes, I suggest—regardless of season—this Sha’aktoura from Sami Tamimi’s Boustany, this hands-free black bean and brown rice casserole, and this one-pan fried chickpeas, rice and greens.

PS: Because posting this dragged out for so long, I am DELIGHTED to now be able to spring out from behind the barley to let you know my debut novel Hoods Landing is on the 2026 Ockham New Zealand Book Awards longlist for fiction! Thank you everyone who has supported this scrappily independent novel in the last three months, I’m feeling ecstatic, honoured, and sincere.

Spiced pearl barley pilaf

Humbly delicious, incredibly versatile, comforting if served hot and relaxedly hearty if served cold. As always, before going shopping for these or any ingredients, I recommend checking out the Boycott Aotearoa zines so you know which brands to avoid. Adapted from a Lynn Bedford Hall recipe.

• 1 onion
• 1 tablespoon olive oil (though something plainer is fine)
• 1 stick cinnamon
• 4 whole cloves
• 1/4 teaspoon turmeric
• 1 teaspoon ground cumin
• 220g pearl barley
• 600ml stock of your choice
• 50g sultanas
• 50g slivered almonds
• A tablespoon, or so, of fresh thyme leaves
• Salt and pepper, to taste

1: Finely dice the onion. Warm the tablespoon of oil in a heavy pan with a lid, and saute the onion over medum heat until just softened but not browned, which should take around five minutes of stirring.  

2: Drop in the cinnamon stick and four cloves, and stir in the quarter teaspoon of turmeric and teaspoon of cumin, letting the heat fragrantly bloom the spices.

3: Rinse the 220g pearl barley in a sieve under cold running water, then tip the rinsed barley into the pan along with 250ml of the chicken stock—I’d add a little salt and pepper here, too. Cover, and simmer for 15 minutes.

4: Remove the lid, pour in the remaining stock, and stir in the 50g sultanas. Cover, and let simmer again over a very low heat for another 45 minutes (but check at around half an hour.)

5: Once the pearl barley is tender and puffy and the liquid has absorbed, remove the pan from the heat and let it stand, lid off but covered with a clean teatowel, for ten minutes. While this is happening, briefly toast the 50g slivered almonds in a small pan until lightly golden. Stir the almonds through the barley along with the tablespoon of thyme leaves, saving a few to scatter over as you serve.

Serves 4, particularly if there’s a little something on the side or after. Leftovers keep exceptionally well in the fridge.

what I’ve been listening to lately:

Where’s My Phone by Mitski; when there is so little good news a new Mitski song shines brighter still, especially when as fuzzy and Britpoppish as this, if she doesn’t tour to New Zealand soon…….

White Horses by Wolf Alice, with its slicingly metallic guitar and That Dog-esque vocalising and a chorus so lovely and catchy, just when you think all possible permutations of musical chords must have been thought of already. Any readers of my blog will know I’m not particularly good at listening to new music(which is how I know I’ve ascended from Cousin to Aunty, unless I’m around actual aunties in which case I do as I’m told) but this whole album is staggeringly great.  

Kurious Oranj by The Fall, a perambulating song that sends me further into a trance every time Mark E Smith puts a different emphasis on a different syllable while reiterating the title.  

PS: Feeling hopeless is a luxury that serves no one but those perpetrating the hopelessness, and the people of Palestine need us more than ever. Among others, you can donate to:

• ReliefAid’s Gaza Appeal, who are connected with teams on the ground in Gaza.
• Convoys of Good, another registered NZ charity distributing aid.
• Welcome Back Slow Fashion who has relentlessly fundraised for mutual aid by selling off gaspingly beautiful and rare vintage clothing pieces one by one.
• As I’ve already mentioned, you can also demonstrate your control and power through the absence of your dollars. Boycott Zine Aotearoa has helpfully put together two comprehensive free zines so you can quickly see who to studiously avoid when buying food, drinks, household items and beauty products.
• You can also check out the Pro-Palestine Business Aotearoa account by the same people for a very solid list of places to actively focus your consumer attention on.
• Emily Writes has come through once again to make it easier for you to come through, with this list of ways to donate, support, and help those in need after last month’s heartbreaking floods and slips across the North Island.
• Aroha to my American readers who are and have been suffering under the fascist menace of ICE; may your mutual aid, among other things, be swift and abundant.