Jul 23

It’s more like falafel is making me crazy! But how can you resist the freshness of flavors in Middle Eastern cuisine?
I came to love and loathe Middle Eastern foods in high school when I took a three week tour of Israel with my youth group. There were many days eating on Kibbutz with comments like, “are you kidding?! Cucumber, tomatoes and hummus again?!” But despite all the hummus consumed on that trip, I still cannot forget the hummus I had at the main marketplace in Jerusalem. Sweet, nutty and full of paprika, to this day I search to perfect my own recipe to match this memory.
I found falafel as an undergrad. It was fast food that didn’t seem so unhealthy and best of all, it was cheap. I could often be found between classes grabbing a falafel, standing just outside the small storefront nibbling away with tahini coating my lips and dripping on the sidewalk down below. I took friends visiting from out of town to the little shop and I even took D on our first date for a late night snack. But I have never tried making it myself.
Walking through the grocery I often spot and am tempted to pick up a box of falafel mix. As much as I love falafel, I cannot get myself to purchase the boxed mix. Yes, there are chickpeas in there, but get down the list and sure enough those hard-to-pronounce unknowns appear. I can’t make myself believe that off in the Middle East, or even my Lebanese or Egyptian friends here in the U.S., folks are whipping up boxed falafel. Where do these boxes come from?
To my surprise and horror, my own cookbooks I checked for reference suggested using boxed falafel mix. Wait, really? A cookbook calls for a box?! Truth be told, I don’t own a Middle Eastern cookbook (since I usually just reference friends and their parents for recipes). I took to the internet and researched away. Recipes I found seemed fairly close to hummus recipes before frying. I had some hummus a few days old in the fridge so I figured this would make good falafel– dry enough to form balls and fry. I also thought that my desire to use hummus, no longer desirable for snacking, would make sense historically. (Instead of throwing away old hummus, why not deep fry it?)
So I chopped some parsley, folded it into the hummus, formed golf ball sized nuggets and D threw them into a pan of hot oil. They fell apart. When I say fall apart I don’t mean the little balls broke apart and were still okay to eat. I mean the balls fell apart, totally crumbling into nothingness. D had to fish them out with a sieve the added comment, “Wow, we haven’t failed like this in a while.”
And when he says that he really means a long time. I cannot recall a time we made something so horribly inedible we had to throw it away. Sure, maybe it didn’t look (or fully taste) great, but one of us (me) usually not wanting to waste food, would suffer through eating it. What we had here was fried powder that was impossible to eat and had to enter the garbage.
We both took to the internet to find recipes and compare our separate results. The one major difference in falafel to hummus is that no liquids are added. When D and I make hummus we often add olive oil and yogurt to create a creamy result (that keeps smooth for days). The more falafel recipes we found, the greater the number that excluded these ingredients, as well as tahini. This kept the batter as dry as possible. (Which is why I thought our 3 day old hummus (with no yogurt), nice and dry, would work perfectly.)
We combined our favorite recipes and went in for Round Two. We stuck one in to test. Same result. The pictures on the internet lied. These little nuggets also fell apart as well. No golden balls of falafel came to our plates.
Back on the internet D began typing in “Falafel falls apart.” To his surprise, he didn’t even get to the first “l” of “falls” when Google auto-filled his results and he found multiple comments from ornery eaters attempting to make falafel.
Who knew these little buggers could be so difficult?
We did find the most common suggestions for falafel that falls apart is 1) Refrigerate for a few hours (we were hungry now) or 2) Add flour.
Back to our falafel balls, minus one brave comrade, I threw them back into the bowl and added almost 1/4 cup flour. Mixed it up, formed balls, flattened slightly (so oil would cover them completely) and coated the discs lightly with a more flour. I quickly told D it was not too late. We could just eat this dry hummus-like batter on our Barbari bread and it would be just fine. We threw a tester in again. Finally!
We topped stuffed the falafel into our Barbari bread (a flat bread originally from Iran that is an arms length long. Once a portion is torn off, it can easily be stuffed), added a yogurt and herb dressing, fresh tomatoes and topped it with some lip smacking sticky tahini. The best part of this falafel is that they remain crispy on the outside, but are soft and creamy inside.
Falafel
Prep time (getting it right the first time)= 12 minutes. Cook time= 4 minutes.
1- 15 oz can chickpeas (garbanzo beans), washed and drained
1/4 cup loosely chopped parsley
2 cloves garlic
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1/2 teaspoon coriander powder
1/2 teaspoon paprika
2 tablespoons red onion
1/4 cup flour (set aside 2 tablespoons in a small bowl for coating finished falafel balls)
salt/ pepper to taste
vegetable oil
1) Begin heating vegetable oil on high heat in a deep sauce pan (oil should come about 1 inch up the side of the pan).
2) Place remaining ingredients (minus 2 tablespoons of flour) into a food processor or blender. Process until fairly even consistency is reached, leaving some larger chickpea chunks, if desired.
3) Form golf ball sized balls of batter and flatten slightly. Coat lightly in remaining flour.
4) Add falafel discs to oil when hot and fry about 4 minutes, until golden on all sides. Serve warm served wrapped in pita or other flat bread.
And the yogurt-herb sauce we topped it with (along with tahini and tomatoes):
3 tablespoons yogurt
2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
juice of 1/2 a lemon
pinch of salt
Mix until combined.