My sabra (native born Israeli) husband Saul and I have known each other since I was eleven and he was fourteen. My first encounter with falafel was in the late sixties when Saul noticed that a falafel restaurant had opened on Bustleton Avenue near his home in northeast Philadelphia. He was so excited and enthusiastic about the availability of this dish, of which I had never heard before, that I could not wait to try it. I could not understand why his mother, who was an excellent cook of Hungarian extraction, had never made it if he missed it so much from his childhood in Israel. I liked it very much when I first tried it at that restaurant, although my first encounter with “s’chug” the fiery pepper sauce that is a common accompaniment was not so pleasant.
While we were in college, a food truck opened up on Temple University’s campus, which provided our fix. Shortly after we were first married in the 1970s, supermarkets began to carry packets of dry falafel mix. I used to add water, let the mixture sit for a few minutes and then drop small hand-rolled balls into hot oil to fry. These were acceptable, but not as good as the falafel we began to get at the festival following the Israel Day Parade in Philadelphia.
My ultimate falafel experience was in Israel in the small town of Afula where the preparation of this beloved street food is high art, both culinary and performance. Israelis have a special gadget that they use to shape the patties, rather than rolling them into balls. When Saul and Ari visited Israel three years ago, I asked them to bring one back for me. It was one of the only kitchen gadgets I didn’t already own. I could not take the trip with them then because I was taking care of my mother, who was on hospice. They brought me two of the spring-loaded gadgets which, until recently, have been languishing in a kitchen drawer. Several of my attempts to make falafel from scratch ended in frustrated failure when, despite my best efforts, the balls dissolved into oily crumbs. The pre-packaged mixture has become very costly for such modest ingredients as chick peas and dried herbs. Consequently, I decided to try again recently, especially as I had a surfeit of fresh herbs over the summer, such as coriander, parsley, basil and dill.
I took to the internet this time, reading dozens of recipes and the reviews of them that people who tried the recipe had posted. Apparently, having them fall apart in the hot oil is a common problem. My research taught me two tricks. One is that the dough should be extremely cold before frying. The other, is that the oil temperature is critical and ideally should be at 360°F, so using a thermometer was also a critical necessity. After reviewing all those recipes on the net, I decided to go back to my favorite cookbook by Gloria Kaufer Greene, The Jewish Holiday Cookbook. I was very glad that I did. Saul and I were very pleased with the results. I modified the recipe in minor ways. I used more fresh herbs and in a greater variety than called for in the book, and I used three slices of of multi-grain bread in a doubled batch. I also did not precook the dried chickpeas. Using the Israeli gadget (Saul removed the spring which made it very hard to handle), together we made 92 perfect falafel patties that tasted authentic and delicious.
The only problem I have with them is that I am a very spontaneous person. Planning a day ahead that I am going to make falafel so that I have time to soak dry chickpeas overnight is problematic for me. Falafel can be made from canned chickpeas, which I have tried, but the texture is not as it should be. Anyway, if you can plan ahead, and follow all these tips, you, too, can have lots of wonderful falafel at a pittance. Stash them away in the freezer, and then you can bake them a few at a time, as needed, to satisfy the craving.
Falafel (Fried Chickpea Patties)
(makes approximately 7 dozen)
- 1 lb. bag dry chickpeas (also known as garbanzo beans)
- 2/3 cup bulgur wheat
- grated rind and juice of 2 large lemons (approximately 6 Tbsp. lemon juice)
- 4 large or extra-large eggs
- 6 Tbsp. cold water
- 2 large cloves elephant garlic, or 4 regular garlic cloves
- 1 Tbsp. ground cumin
- 1 tsp. ground turmeric
- 1 tightly packed cup of assorted chopped fresh herbs, which should include parsley and coriander, and which may include dill, basil, sage, thyme, and/or marjoram
- 1 tsp. hot sauce, such as s’chug, or Sriracha, or cayenne pepper, smoked chipotle pepper, or whatever floats your boat
- 2 tsp. kosher salt
- 3 slices fresh, pareve, multi-grain bread, processed into crumbs in a food processor
- several cups of oil for frying, preferably, peanut oil
Put the bulgur wheat into a mesh sieve and lower until covered into a bowl of warm water. Soak about 20 minutes, lift out of the water and allow to drain well.
Chop the garlic in a food processor until fine. Add the herbs and chop fine.
Add the drained chickpeas, lemon juice and peel, eggs, and water to the processor bowl and pulse process until the chick-peas are very finely chopped, but not puréed.
Transfer the mixture to a large bowl and mix in the rest of the seasonings, the drained bulgur, and the multi-grain breadcrumbs. Cover the mixture and refrigerate for at least two hours, or up to eight hours.
Heat about two inches of oil to 360°F. being careful not to overheat. I do this in a wok. Form mixture into one-inch balls and flatten slightly into tiny croquettes, or use a falafel gadget made for the purpose, and carefully slide each patty into the hot oil, frying a few at a time. Do not crowd them.
Fry them for a few minutes, turning once, until they are golden brown and crispy on the outside. Remove from oil with a slotted spoon or spider and drain on paper towels. Repeat until the mixture is finished.
The traditional way to serve falafel is to slice open a pita pocket, stuff several warm patties inside the pocket, and then top with salad. On top of that goes tahina dressing and s’chug to taste. Back in the days when my kids were little, before it was possible to find tahina widely available, we used to top the falafel with ranch dressing. My daughter tells me that, even after residing for two years of schooling in Israel, she still prefers it that way.
Leftover falafel patties freeze well and can be rewarmed in the oven, at 350°F, uncovered, until just heated through.
