I'm making a biggish bowlful that would do one person (me!) for lunch on its own, or would work as an accompaniment to something else for probably two or three people.
First off, tomatoes - good ones if you possibly can. Tomatoes are one of those things it's never a good idea to scrimp on. Go with a couple of large tomatoes, or an equivalent quantity of smaller ones, and chop them up. I personally like this salad to consist of fairly decent-sized chunks of its component parts - especially if I'm eating it on its own - but feel free to go smaller if you prefer.
Next up is cucumber. I know some people would take off the skin and get rid of the seeds, but really, who can be bothered? I only do all that if I'm cooking cucumber. If you feel especially strongly and have time on your hands, feel free, though. This is probably about a quarter of a cucumber.
I went with spring onions for this (a couple, chopped fairly small) but I've seen recipes with red onion, and recipes with nothing oniony at all. Go with whatever you have available/like best.
I chucked in a few sliced-up radishes, mainly on the grounds that a) I like radishes and b) there were radishes in the fridge.
Because I think it helps to enhance the sourness that you want with this salad, I also added pomegranate seeds - probably about a quarter of a large pomegranate. You basically have to cut it open and then pick it apart to get the seeds out.
Next I chopped up some mint. This is another one of those opinion-is-divided ingredients; most recipes include one or both of mint and/or flat-leaf parsley. Some also include some shredded-up lettuce - something small and pale and tightly-curled, like Little Gem, shredded up fine.
For the dressing, finely grate or chop a clove of garlic...
...and then mix it up with a glug of olive oil, the juice of half a lemon, a pinch of salt, and half a teaspoon of ground sumac. (Sumac is a deep, bloody red and brings a sharp-sour kick to the salad - you might find it in a really big supermarket; otherwise check Middle Eastern grocers). I tend to make salad dressing by just chucking everything in a jam jar, putting the lid on, and shaking it.
Pour the dressing over the salad, and mix well.
Now for the pitta bread part. Again, there are differing views on how to do this. Some people just add bits of stale pitta to the salad and let it soak up the juices. Some people toast it first. And some people fry it. Normally, I would throw my lot in with the toast brigade, but in this case the pitta bread I'm using (a wholemeal one that's been buried at the back of the freezer for so long it's gone pale and brittle and completely dried out) is so ancient and depressing that I decided to fry it, just to cheer it up. So, I dropped shards of pitta into a hot frying pan drizzled with more olive oil, and fried them until they were golden. Whatever you decide, the pitta pieces get mixed in with everything else.
Check the seasoning, and add a bit more of anything you think it needs. For a final touch, I added a drizzle of a couple of things I turned up while I was out buying the sumac - firstly, sumac sauce (on the grounds that in a recipe where it's one of the key flavours, it would make sense to bring it to the fore); and then pomegranate molasses (a gloriously sour, sherbet-y, tarry gloop which I add to everything I can justify adding it to on even the slenderest of pretexts).
The verdict
This turned out really well - fresh, summery, sharp and sour. And, as a way of redeeming pitta bread that seemed to be entirely beyond saving, it was better still! It's really easy to make, and you could add or subtract ingredients depending on what you like and have available. Go experiment!
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