How to make a good falafel sandwich Part 1, a movie, and Bourdain in Jerusalem
Ottoman Heritage in the Food of México - Series
Falafel is a generous food in every sense. Do not get confused by its apparent simplicity, there is a lot of wisdom and imagination in its round little body (not in vain, it has fed so many people for centuries).
A piece of falafel is a compact and —at the same time— consistent food that achieves a lot with little, that stretches beyond its limits: it is completely vegan, but it encompasses several food groups since, in addition to containing vitamins and minerals, it is also rich in protein, among other nutrients.
In terms of preparation, falafel is not as simple as it seems either, because, although its production does not involve any sophisticated tools, its transformation is radical: it starts as a stiff, almost tasteless grain which turns into a crispy and golden croquette, on the outside, with a soft and flavorful interior. A first bite into a piece of falafel, just extracted from the hot oil, is like a small explosion —even more so if it contains a good dose of spiciness.
Each person has his or her own piece of falafel. It's what we call destiny, says the owner of a falafel joint in Beirut to the protagonist of the movie Falafel (Michel Kammoun, 2006), after the latter has randomly chosen ˝the runaway piece˝ from a plate of freshly made croquettes. As the man explains, that name is given to the falafel pieces that defy gravity, that is, instead of floating when cooked, like the rest —on the principle that the inside of a falafel weighs less than the oil— they sink to the bottom of the pot, cook slowly and then come out of the oil so fast and suddenly, that you have to catch them in the air. The owner of the place also reveals the magical qualities of falafel to the young man, telling him this fact that he claims was true: In 1823, on the island of Sumatra, many people swore that it rained falafel on the poor ghetto for half an hour, and people ate falafel for 15 days.
A falafel is, perhaps, even better, when it is rolled inside a warm flatbread. It has the same embracing logic of our quesadillas and tacos, whose essential purpose is to serve as a vehicle for the nourisments from home to accompany us wherever we go, and not only fill our stomachs with joy but our souls as well. A falafel sándwich is a perfect all-in-one, a full meal.
The recipe I present here is of Palestinian origin, from the Gaza Strip to be exact. Like the hummus I posted last week, it has that little spark of Mexican influence that adds so much flavor and character to this and other dishes from the same region: chile verde. As I have said before (and I will continue to exemplify with recipes in the following posts) just as our cuisine has assimilated as its own a great number of techniques and ingredients from the cultures of the Middle East and the Levant, our influence is also present in the palate of the Arab and Mediterranean world, and one of its most representative elements is precisely the use of chile —particularly, in the case of Palestinian cuisine— of fresh chile verde (although red chiles, fresh and dried, are also used).
Every I have tried to prepare homemade falafel croquettes, I have always used different recipes. The recipe I used this time as inspiration (I didn't change any of the original ingredients, but adjusted the quantities for local effects), is —by far— the best I have tried to date, and the one I will most likely adopt from now on; it's from the cookbook: The Gaza Kitchen. A Palestinian Culinary Journey, by Laila el Haddad, a Palestinian journalist who, those who used to follow Anthony Bourdain, may remember from Parts Unknown episode dedicated to Jerusalem's cuisine. *In case you haven't seen it and want to, here it is...
Now, falafel is essentially a street food. Homemade falafels can be delicious, I'm not saying they cannot, but the truth is that —especially falafel sandwiches— are a type of food that most people prefer to eat out, and each person, or family, may have their favorite spots.
In Falastin, another of the many cookbooks I have consulted lately, the Palestinian cook Sami Tamimi, its author, recalls his childhood in Palestine, when he would wait in long lines, after school, to get a pita bread —or a paper cone— filled with pieces freshly-made falafel, just extracted from boliling oil, because —as Tamimi recommends in his "three-part manifesto"— that is the only right way to eat falafel. So if you plan to do it, save this step for the very last moment (it did happen to me once, that I waited till the next day to get the photos of a finished falafel plate, and the consistency of the pieces changed drastically, from a crunchy and juciy croquette to that of a frontenis ball. So I say you do as you’re told).
I have not yet had the good fortune of trying a falafel sándwich in any of its cities of possible origin (maybe I will one day in the heart of Jerusalem, inshallah). I don't have a favorite falafel place in Mexico City either —despite there being such good Arab and Mediterranean cuisine (if you have a recommendation, add it in the comments, please —it can be anywhere in the world). But I have certainly tried unforgettable falafels in other cities; in one of those super popular, homey, and unpretentiously delicious places, by the street, where you have to wait in long lines to try —amongst other delicious things— their exquisite and overflowing sandwiches, which are practically impossible to eat without getting everything on your face (it is part of the experience). My three favorite places —which, I return to every time I visit the cities where they are (except for one that is closed permanently)— are: Habibi in Berlin (which —I already mentioned— also serves excellent shawarma), L'As du Fallafel in Paris (which I think is a movie-perfect spot for a first date) and the sadly disappeared Kan Zaman on Height St. in San Francisco (which at night was a súper cool hookah lounge).
What we are going to do now is that we are going to assemble the falafel sandwich in parts. So, first, we are going to make some of the sub-recipes that comprise it. Let’s start with the falafel croquettes, shall we...