Five Steps to Making The Best Tahina On The Planet
Step 1: Find a mountain (or a small hill)
Dan and I put the Tel Aviv coastline at our backs and headed east. It was early. Frankly, a bit too early for my taste, but not for Dan, who has been up for hours baking. You see, Dan is the head pastry chef at one of Tel Aviv’s finest restaurants. But, I digress. Back in my mom’s 13 year-old Corolla, not twenty minutes passed, and the Mediterranean scenery gave way to a biblical one. Rocky rolling hills, olive trees, and mosque minarets let us know that we were now in the enchanting region of Samaria.
Our destination was Mt. Gerizim, which butts the Palestinian city of Nablus. Biblically known as the Mount of Blessing (Hebrew: Har Bracha), the mountain is home to the Samaritans, who descend from Samaria’s ancient Semitic inhabitants. Samaritans follow an Abrahamic religion closely related to Judaism and claimed to date back to ancient Israelites. While Jew-ish, Samaritans prefer Arabic to Hebrew, and they are Israeli and Palestinian both. Had I lived on a mountain top seeing borders drawn and redrawn around me, I would not buy into dividing lines either. But again, I digress.
It is here that the Cohen family is making the best tahina on the planet. Named after the mountain, Har Bracha tahina is sought after by Israel’s top chefs and by anyone else who tastes it. Its sweet nutty flavor, unbelievably smooth consistency, and white color distinguish it from the pack.
Step 2: Get sesame
Specifically, premium Ethiopian sesame. You see, Ethiopia’s sesame is the stuff that dreams are made of. And, it is key to making the insanely flavorful tahina the Cohens are churning out. Having started their journey as sesame importers, the Cohens know how to get the best stuff out there and get it up their little mountain.
Step 3: Roast it, Roast it real good
Modern factories morph sesame seeds into tahina in 30 minutes, but not our friends the Cohens. They take their time. Specifically, seven hours of their time. The Cohens use an old and mostly manual process that allows the sesame to manifest its full flavor potential.
Following washing and shelling, the sesame seeds are slowly roasted in fire-heated ovens that continuously mix them for even roasting. Roasting time and temperature are carefully managed each day to account for the sesame’s growing conditions, as well as those on the mountain that day. This delicate task is entrusted to Abu Hassan, whose Nablus family has been passing their unique craft from father to son for generations.
Step 4: Grind it like it’s hot (well, it is)
The word tahina is derived from the Arabic root meaning “to grind”. Our friends, being serious about tahina, use actual grind stones to transform seed to oily paste. And, they grind the seeds not once, but twice. This results in a full flavored tahina that communicates the essence of the sesame from which it is made. And so, the white sweet nectar we know as tahina emerges.
Step 5: Rejoice
This is also the point where Dan and I became giddy in a way not befitting our age. You see, we were invited to place a small cup under the fresh stream of tahina exiting the machine. For those who have not seen me giddy before, here’s a pic. Yes, that is me giddy.
Epilogue
Before leaving the Cohens — with 50 lbs of Har Bracha tahina in the Corolla’s trunk — we discussed incorporating it into Shouk’s menu, and featuring it in our market for customers to enjoy at home. I can’t wait for the first pallet of this amazing product to arrive in New York harbor some day soon.
As for Dan, well, on the ride back to Tel Aviv I talked him into developing Shouk’s line of sweets. And yes, some of them will be made of tahina.
