Ancient beans, modern appetite
Foul mudammas is breakfast royalty along the Mediterranean coast, but in winter when the night air cools Alexandria's streets, we slow-simmer it into something deeper—a proper dinner that sits warm in your belly. This is the version you'll find in the old souks near the harbour, where cooks have been nursing the same pot since dawn and don't mind sharing it at dusk.
Rinse the dried fava beans under cold water twice. Cover with fresh cold water (about 1 litre) and leave to soak for at least 4 hours, or overnight. You want them to swell gently but not burst. If you're in a hurry, cover with boiling water and leave for 2 hours—not ideal, but it'll do.
Drain the beans. Heat 80ml of olive oil in a heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add the crushed garlic and let it toast for about 2 minutes—you're not frying it brown, just turning it fragrant and soft. Stir in the ground cumin, let that sing for 30 seconds, then add the beans and stir to coat in oil.
Add the tomatoes (fresh, chopped, or tinned as they come) and 600ml of water. Bring to a gentle simmer, then lower to barely a murmur. You want the beans to break down over the next 75–90 minutes, softening into a creamy, almost porridge-like mass. Stir every 15 minutes or so. Add water if it's catching on the bottom; the texture should be loose, spoon-able, not thick.
When the beans are collapse-soft and the pot smells like home, taste and season hard with salt and cracked pepper. The foul should taste almost aggressive in seasoning—once it's scooped into bowls and dressed, that boldness mellows. Add the split green chillies now if you want them to soften into the pot, or hold them for raw garnish at the table.
Pour the foul into serving bowls—aim for a rough, rustic pile, not smooth. Drizzle each portion with about 10ml of the best olive oil you have left. Scatter the preserved lemon slices on top, then add a generous handful of fresh coriander. If your green chillies aren't in the pot already, lay them split-side-up on the surface now.
While the foul finishes, warm the pita bread over a naked flame if you have one, or under a hot grill for 20–30 seconds per side. You want it pliable and warm enough to steam, not crisp. Serve on the side with the foul, and let your guests tear and scoop—that's the whole point of the meal.
“Foul isn't about precision. Spoon the beans into deep bowls, letting them sit rustic and proud. The olive oil should pool slightly on the surface—it's not a garnish, it's the finish line. Scatter the preserved lemon and fresh coriander across the top without fussiness. Lay the green chillies where they'll catch the eye. Warm pita on the side, a small dish of extra olive oil if your guests are greedy (and they will be). This is food to eat with your hands and your full attention, not with a phone in your lap.”
First spoonful hits you with cumin warmth and the deep, almost chocolate-like earthiness of cooked fava beans. The tomato adds subtle sweetness and brightness. Then the preserved lemon cuts through—sharp, salty, alive—and the fresh coriander brings a grassy finishing note. The green chilli lingers on the back palate, not heat so much as presence. Finish with torn pita to push it all down. Unfussy, ancient, completely satisfying.
Greek wine with a pine resin bite that echoes the coriander and lemon; oddly it just works
Stella or Sakara—light, crisp, cuts the richness of the olive oil without arguing
Tart, cooling, and completely at home in this kitchen—skip the sugar
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