I've been thinking a lot lately about how we form food preferences, mostly because I've been thinking about raisins, mostly because I hate them.

I've traced it back, as you do with a good grudge. And I immediately remember those little school-lunch cartons in which the raisins have fused into a single sticky continent, tooth-achingly sweet, with a texture somewhere between "dried fruit" and "regret." That formative food memory apparently wired me for life to distrust concentrated grape.

Because, TBH, grapes aren't even close to my favorite fruit to begin with. So why would I want the version of them that's been reduced down to pure, unrelenting sugar? I like my fruit with some tension in it. Some argument. A little acid keeping the sweetness honest. Raisins arrive with no argument at all. They're a monologue. And before you tell me that they get better when you bake them into, say, oatmeal cookies, stop. Oatmeal cookies are my favorite cookies, and oatmeal cookies with raisins are my least favorite cookies. Understand now?

Which is maybe why the pickled onions in the dish I’m sharing today, from “Eat Your Vegetables,” feel like such a correction. Same basic move — concentrate, intensify — but pointed in the opposite direction. Instead of doubling down on sweet, a quick vinegar bath gives you sharp, bright, a little assertive. And unlike the pre-pickling version, these actually want to go places: Pile them on salads, puree them into mayonnaise for a sandwich, whisk them into store-bought salsa verde and call it a dressing, spoon them over roasted or grilled asparagus, potatoes, eggplant, whatever vegetable is loitering on your counter, or just set them out at a party on a cheese and pickle tray and watch them disappear. It's what I wish raisins would do with their one wild life, which is to show a little range.

They’re also made with golden raisins, which are the best raisins. (Not much of a claim, I realize, but there you go.)

Anyway, much like raisins, regular fine couscous and I have a complicated history, and I'll cop to it probably being unfair. I've never had it freshly steamed and fluffed by someone who actually knows what they're doing, in Morocco, the way it's supposed to be. My actual frame of reference is worse: sad, refrigerated "tabbouleh" from the hippie co-ops of my college years, all clumped and cold and vaguely punitive, like it was serving a purpose beyond flavor.

So I've made my peace with vastly preferring pearl couscous, sometimes called Israeli couscous (or Sardinian in their toasted version), little, well, pasta pearls with actual chew to them, something to bite down on rather than just sort of... accept. Toss it with curried broccoli, all warm spice and char, and those endlessly useful pickled raisins doing the job that carton of clumps never could, and you've got a dish built entirely out of textural opinions I didn't know I had.

Until I had them.

We’ve got a nice crowd gathering for my next Zoom cooking class, but since we’re virtual, there’s room for plenty more. The subject: cooking the best tofu (or should I say “tofus”?) ever! On Sunday, Sept. 27, from noon to 2 p.m. Eastern, I’ll be sharing more details on decades’ worth of tofu revelations as we make this menu:

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I love Israeli couscous, sometimes called pearl couscous, for its texture; it has much more bite than the smaller, fluffy couscous. That makes it the perfect starchy base for warm salads in which other ingredients offer a little crunch, too — in this case, quickly broiled broccoli, raw carrot pieces, and crunchy cashews. Even though you use just a little of them in this recipe, fight the urge to skip the Quick-Pickled Golden Raisins (below); they pull everything together with a little spicy punch.

Serves 1 // Time: Weekday

Turn the oven broiler on, with a rack in the closest position to the flame or element.

Cut the florets off the broccoli head. Peel the stem, and cut the stem and the florets into ½-inch pieces. Transfer them to a small sheet pan, drizzle them with 1 teaspoon of the olive oil, sprinkle with the curry powder and a little salt, and broil until they are lightly browned, watching carefully so they don’t burn.

Pour the remaining 2 teaspoons of olive oil into a small saucepan; place the pan over medium heat. When the oil shimmers, add the garlic, tomatoes, and carrot, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the tomatoes collapse. Stir in the couscous, water, and a generous sprinkling of salt. Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the couscous has swelled, absorbed the water, and become just tender, 10 to 12 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat.

While the couscous is cooking, sprinkle the cashews into a small skillet over medium-high heat. Cook, shaking the pan frequently, until the cashews have darkened and become fragrant, just a few minutes. Immediately transfer them to a plate to cool; if you leave them to cool in the pan, they can burn. Once they are cool, chop them.

Let the couscous rest for a few minutes, then stir in the arugula and raisins. Transfer to a bowl, top with the broiled broccoli and cashews, and eat.

Substitutions

Doubled for 2 to 3

Follow the above directions, but use a larger sheet pan for the broccoli, a medium one for the couscous. Toast the cashews in two batches, or spread them on a small sheet pan and toast at 350°F for 5 to 7 minutes instead.

Quick-Pickled Golden Raisins

Makes about ½ cup // Storage: Refrigerate in their liquid for up to 2 months.

Put the raisins in a pint jar. Combine the vinegar, sugar, and crushed red pepper in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil, turn off the heat, and pour over the raisins. Let cool to room temperature, then cover and refrigerate the raisins in their liquid for up to 2 months.

Adapted from “Eat Your Vegetables” (Ten Speed Press, 2012), copyright Joe Yonan.

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