Falafel!
My favourite sandwich filler comprised of chickpeas!
Let’s see…healthy? Check.
Tastes good? Check.
Good on its own or in a sandwich? Check.
The last one I’d call if I needed someone to watch my kids? Check.
And, no, I’m not talking about my cousin Fred (although those are also true about him as well).
We are talking about my current favourite thing to stuff into a pita just eclipsing an old pair of hideous earrings belonging to my wife that are nearly literally begging to be stuffed into something and I happen to have a pita in hand, and caviar, because there is only so much caviar one man can stomach and in my case that is zero thanks to the government’s decision to not pay teachers as much as professional football players or those who frequent the local yacht club.
Seriously, nothing is better in a warmed pita that these crispy-on-the-outside-fluffy-on -the-inside-balls-of-pure-joy and they are so darn tootin’ easy to cook that I can almost literally cook them while typing these words, but not quite, as I would either singe my eyebrows or use improper grammar, and neither of those are happening on my watch. Just between us when someone else is watching I may be a little naughty and incorrectly use a few commas.
I used to hate with a passion cooking things in ball shapes, and no, I’m not being facetious or euphemistic at the moment. If you were looking forward to some good ol’ facetiousness or euphemistic language come by around 10pm or so. There was something about forming things into balls, heating up some oil in the frying pan my mother gave me (really, my mother actually went to the cooking supply store and bought me a frying pan- I’m not sure why we are spending so much time on such a mundane, yet infinitely practical, exchange of cookware between a mother and her-overly-literal-to-the-point-of-frustration-of-all-those-in-earshot son) and then trying to fry them.
These balls always invariably crumble and break and as if they were only held together by a loose collection of electrons and we all know how slack those electrons are becoming in our modern era of slacking. Honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong — I follow the recipes step-by-step like a panting puppy following the waving chew-toy (the similarities are eerie and covered in drool) and no matter how careful I am, my little spherical creations all break apart and lay on my plate looking nothing like the glossy perfection staring up at me from the cookbook or website that haunts me.
As I stand there glaring at the failed food on my plate, I swear to myself (as I don’t believe in swearing in public except during August) and state firmly “never again” only to forget this proclamation the next time I’m wooed, late at night, by a picture online.
And then, I discovered this recipe and for some reason, these ones just work. They hold together, they are hard to burn, they don’t stick and they don’t pontificate unless I tip big. I can be found literally singing while cooking this recipe and the aroma created in the kitchen brings me back to a simpler time when falafel balls were consumed without fear of reproach or rejection on first dates.
They are tasty and risqué — I mean who in their right mind would ever suggest giving something a name with two ‘f’s in it? Talk about your bold and enticing moves! And to separate the f’s as well? How you like me now stroganoff?!!??
Without further ado — falafel!
Note: This Recipe, like many of my favourites comes from Mollie Katzen’s legendary The Moosewood Cookbook. If you don’t own that book, you should.
Ingredients
4 Cups Cooked Chickpeas
4 Garlic Cloves
2 Teaspoons Cumin
1 Teaspoon Turmeric
1 Teaspoon Salt
6 Green Onions
1/4 Cup Parsley, packed
1/4 Cup Water
1 Tablespoon Lemon Juice
A few dashes of Cayenne Pepper
1/3 Cup Flour
Oil for frying
Steps
1) Either open two cans of chickpeas if you enjoy the convenience that only a canned food can bring (I would argue that jarred foods offer a similar experience, but I happen to have an appreciation for the fine art of jarring) or soak 1 cup of dried chickpeas overnight and then cook.
For Christmas this year I was finally presented with my very own pressure cooker and I love it. I am used to pressure cookers as the house I shared with roommates during university was a sealing, pressurized, frothy mess that always provided timely-cooked vegetables and legumes as well as the need for weekly meetings and cleaning schedules that were always disregarded the moment they were agreed upon.
In my opinion, you just cannot cook too many chickpeas. My opinions, especially regarding cooking beans and legumes, are considered skewed at best. But, if I end up with too many chickpeas on a rainy Saturday night, the extras can be added to soups, pastas, salads and rice dishes or, my personal favourite as long as I don’t have to clean them up, constructed into neat pyramids on the countertop that would be particularly exciting for any Peruvians who happen to come over. Having said that, and on advice from my legal team, one could cook too many chickpeas if you went out of your way to do that almost as if you were trying to prove something to someone about your ability to do too much of something like cooking too many chickpeas or applying too much wax to your already well-waxed car making it seem that you either have money to burn on excessive wax or you just want the most waxed car in town for reasons that all involve your unhealthy and quite competitive relationship with bees.
2) Take your sharpest knife and admire your still-youthful profile in its gleam. Attempt to avoid having anyone else notice you are smiling while holding such a sharp blade at weird angles near your face as it only eventually leads to awkward conversations with my mom.
3) Using the knife, coarsely chop the garlic and green onions. Then chop them again and once more. If you still yearn to continue chopping, may I suggest investing heavily in celery and clearing some time in your schedule during the celery harvest this summer.
4) Combine all of the ingredients in a food processor except for the flour and oil. If it helps, you may think of this is as a flour-and-oil-less party, which is quite the opposite of the parties I imagine the young folk having these days where there is literally flour, oil, and messy and disoriented people everywhere.
I don’t get out much.
5) Process until almost smooth. Coincidently this is also the working, overly-cryptic title of my new autobiography focussing on my beginning years as a teacher. You do want some texture, so don’t process too much. If I had a dollar for every time someone told me that I would want some texture, I could have bought all of those pairs of cords that are practically screaming my name at the mall.
6) Add the flour and stir till combined and for any other reasons you can think of on a limited budget.
7) Take the mixture into your hands and drop to your knees and thank whatever you thank when you drop to your knees. Then start shaping it into small balls the size your brain thinks of what it imagines small balls. Resist the desire to giggle like a schoolgirl, unless you either are a schoolgirl and thus have no ability to giggle any other ways or lead a very conservative life where no giggling is allowed. If this is true, then please giggle all you would like; although if you are either not female or over the age of 80, then all schoolgirl giggling will be frowned upon. Heavily.
Truth be told, the balls I shape often start small and then as I continue to form them, they get bigger and bigger and bigger. I don’t know why. I call this the “lack of uniformity and it’s a good thing I don’t work at a particle accelerator facility” theory.
8) Heat a large skillet, add oil and when it is hot enough to sizzle a bread crumb (or the crumb of anything else — don’t go away from this recipe thinking that only bread crumbs are so exalted that they, of all crumbs, solely can fry), add a number of your falafel balls and flatten them slightly with a spatula into something resembling a thick disc; remembering that one person’s disc is another person’s stolen property. That is just how it works in civilization.
9) Sauté until the first side is golden brown and then turn over and repeat for the second side. Add extra oil as needed, especially if they are browning too quickly. I am a little weary of using too much oil and I am always not using enough. I have learned the hard way (although to be honest it wasn’t that hard; not like doing time or an expert level crossword or trying to “accidentally” get your wife stuck in quicksand to prove a point) not to skimp on the oil either when frying falafel or when trying to combine oil and water as you believe everything can be mixed.
10) Place the cooked falafel on a plate lined with paper towels and repeat the above steps for the rest of the balls. Attempt to cook the remaining ones with the joy and first-time-excitement as you did the first. They deserve it.
11) You are done! You can either eat them now or freeze them and reheat during the next crescent moon.
These can be eaten in many different ways and rooms in your house — my current favourite is as part of a delicious pita bread sandwich eaten in the front entranceway to our townhouse. I take a pita bread, liberally spread some hummus, conservatively mash half an avocado and spread over the hummus, gingerly place three falafel balls, respectfully top with lightly dressed greens and/or roasted red peppers and/or feta cheese and/or minced herbs. This is my current go-to lunch when I am in a rush. My last go-to lunch is under a restraining order.
Falafel rules!
Enjoy!
