The only real-world falafel I’ve had that comes close to the ideal I hold in my head is the falafel from Taïm. One of the keys to its deliciousness is the size of the balls. They tend to be quite small compared to typical falafel balls—just an inch and a half or so in diameter. This gets you a much better ratio of crisply fried exterior to moist interior. (There’s a reason why we cut French fries into sticks instead of just deep-frying whole potatoes.) They also triple down on the herbs with a combination of parsley, cilantro, and mint; most recipes call only for parsley and cilantro.

I start by soaking chickpeas overnight in water, carefully draining them, then putting them into the food processor along with a ton of herbs, some scallions (which I find give you better flavor and texture than the more common combination of onions and garlic), some salt, and some dried spices (cumin and coriander). I pulse them until they turn into a coarse meal that just holds its shape. You can also push them through a meat grinder fitted with a small die.

Combine chickpeas, 1 teaspoon (6g) baking soda, and 2 tablespoons (24g) salt in a large bowl. Cover with 6 cups (1.4L) cold water. Stir to dissolve salt and baking soda. Let stand at room temperature overnight. Drain and rinse chickpeas thoroughly.

Place chickpeas in a large Dutch oven or saucepan. Add remaining baking soda, 1 tablespoon (12g) salt, onion, celery, carrot, garlic, bay leaves, and rosemary, if using. Add 6 cups (1.4L) water and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce to a simmer, cover with lid slightly cracked, and cook until chickpeas are completely tender and nearly falling apart, about 1 hour 30 minutes. Check on chickpeas occasionally and top up with more water if necessary; they should be completely submerged at all times. Let cool slightly.Combine chickpeas, 1 teaspoon (6g) baking soda, and 2 tablespoons (24g) salt in a large bowl. Cover with 6 cups (1.4L) cold water. Stir to dissolve salt and baking soda. Let stand at room temperature overnight. Drain and rinse chickpeas thoroughly. Discard onion, garlic, celery, carrot, bay leaves, and rosemary. Drain chickpeas, reserving their cooking water.

In a blender or food processor, combine 1 cup (235ml) tahini sauce with about one-quarter of the cooked chickpeas and blend until very smooth, with a thick but pourable milkshake-like consistency. Thin with a little of the reserved cooking liquid if necessary (but be careful not to thin too much at once; you can always thin more, but can’t remove liquid once it’s added). Season with salt.

In a mixing bowl, combine tahini mixture with remaining chickpeas and parsley. Stir until thoroughly mixed and chickpeas are coated in a creamy sauce. (If you prefer the sauce thinner, gently work in a little more of the reserved cooking liquid.) You can refrigerate the hummus at this point; it will become thicker in the refrigerator.

Spoon onto a serving dish, drizzle with olive oil, and top with garnishes of your choice. Serve with warm pita bread.

Special equipment
High-powered blender or food processor

My good friend and colleague Daniel has gone on record stating that he doesn’t like falafel. This is a tragic yet understandable stance to take, and I don’t hold it against him (much). In fact, I used to be in the same boat.

The problem is that the texture of most falafel is pasty and heavy. Despite this, the flavor of falafel is typically pretty good. What’s not to love about chickpeas seasoned with cumin, coriander, and fresh herbs? Growing up in New York, I enjoyed ordering it from the halal carts, where, given enough yogurt sauce, hot sauce, and vegetables, you could distract your tongue just long enough to get some of the flavor of the falafel without really noticing the poor texture.

Thinking that part of the problem might be the way falafel is held in most carts (precooked, then reheated to order), I wondered if making it at home would solve the texture issues.

Thinking that part of the problem might be the way falafel is held in most carts (precooked, then reheated to order), I wondered if making it at home would solve the texture issues. Over the course of my late teens and young adulthood, I must have made falafel with various recipes a half dozen times or so, each with one of two results: falafel balls that slowly disintegrated into the hot oil as they fried, or falafel that held together but came out mushy and pasty.

What I was really after was falafel that was shatteringly crisp on the outside and light, fluffy, almost crumbly on the inside, while still remaining very moist. Light enough that they can be eaten completely on their own, without having to be shoved into a sandwich full of ingredients designed to distract you from their typical mushiness. (Of course, if you want them in a sandwich, they should hold up in there just as well.) I like my falafel to taste of chickpeas, but also to be packed with herb and spice flavor. Falafel that needs only simple condiments—tahini and hot sauce—to taste great.

I kept this in mind as I started testing more recipes.

Canning Canned Chickpeas
Falafel recipes can be broadly divided into two categories: those that start with dried chickpeas and those that start with canned. In the past, I’d leaned toward the canned-chickpea recipes, since the extra steps of soaking and precooking dried chickpeas felt like too much of a pain on top of the required deep-frying. Boy, what a mistake that was.

Turns out that dried chickpeas are essential to good falafel. See, canned chickpeas have already been cooked. Starch molecules within them have already burst and released their sticky contents, much of which get washed away in the cooking liquid, leaving the remaining chickpeas with very little clinging power. Try to grind canned chickpeas, form them into balls, and deep-fry them, and they completely fall apart in the oil. The common solution for this type of recipe is to add some extra starch in the form of flour.

Because the chickpeas need to be totally raw before the falafel balls are formed, the standard quick-soak method of bringing the beans to a boil and letting them sit for an hour will not work with this recipe.

Dried Chickpeas
Starting with dried chickpeas is an automatic improvement in flavor. Just like with making hummus, I’ve found that dried chickpeas have a cleaner, more straightforward chickpea flavor, while canned chickpeas can get a tinny, skunky taste to them. If you cook those dried chickpeas before making falafel, you run into the same issues you find with canned—they just don’t bind. Because the chickpeas need to be totally raw before the falafel balls are formed, the standard quick-soak method of bringing the beans to a boil and letting them sit for an hour will not work with this recipe. The key to great falafel is to soak the dried chickpeas, but grind them while they’re still completely raw.

Flour-bound falafel certainly holds together, but you end up with dense, pasty balls, like these:
By solving one problem, you create a brand-new one. But that’s okay! some recipes seem to say. We’ll fix that problem we just created with another solution: baking powder!

Using some baking powder in flour-bound falafel adds leavening to the mix, giving the balls lightness and airiness. It works. Your balls are no longer mushy and pasty. Unfortunately, they aren’t really falafel-textured, either, instead coming out with the texture of, well, something that’s been leavened with baking powder. More like a deep-fried chickpea fritter or muffin than actual falafel, like this:

I suppose you could solve that problem by adding other textural elements—bulgur wheat, nuts, other grains, et cetera—but at some point, working with canned chickpeas feels like plugging up holes in a dam and running out of fingers.

Dried chickpeas are the way to go.

Brie is silky smooth creaminess. It’s mild and melty, which lends itself well to bold flavours and grilled cheese. This sandwich was, as Joy says, is “utterly inspired” and perfect for an easy, breezy brunch. I cut my sandwich up in to teeny-tiny squares and skewered them for fun because if I can put food on a stick, I will. I imagine these guys would be super popular at a cocktail brunch party. Which is totally a thing, right? Please excuse me while I go plan out the menu (and my outfit!) for a fancy, standing room only cocktail brunch party. Happy Sunday!
With a sharp knife, cut the brie straight from the fridge, into even slices. Spread the mustard on one slice of bread and the jam on the other. Layer the ham on the mustard-clad slice of bread and the brie on the jam slice. Sandwich the slices together. Melt about a tablespoon of butter in a medium skillet over medium-low heat. Swirl and add the sandwich and cook, flipping once, until golden brown and gooey, about 6 minutes total. Cut in to desired shapes and enjoy immediately.

It’s ratatouille season! Ratatouille is a classic end-of-summer French stew that’s fun to say (rat-tuh-TOO-ee) and fun to make. It’s packed with fresh produce: tomatoes, eggplant, zucchini and yellow squash, and bell pepper.

This summer, we sampled authentic French ratatouille in Provence. I liked some ratatouille more than others, so I vowed to come up with my own favorite ratatouille recipe when I came home. Today is the day!
In Provence, ratatouille is typically cooked on the stove. Each vegetable is cooked in olive oil until it’s properly tender. In the end, all of the ingredients are combined and simmered to meld the flavors.

The French know how to cook, and this concept is definitely one to follow. Ratatouille combines a large volume of late-summer vegetables that have different cook times. If you tried to throw them all into a pot at once, none of the veggies would have a chance to caramelize, the eggplant would fall apart by the time the zucchini is tender, and your ratatouille would probably never meet its full potential.

Brie is silky smooth creaminess. It’s mild and melty, which lends itself well to bold flavours and grilled cheese. This sandwich was, as Joy says, is “utterly inspired” and perfect for an easy, breezy brunch. I cut my sandwich up in to teeny-tiny squares and skewered them for fun because if I can put food on a stick, I will. I imagine these guys would be super popular at a cocktail brunch party. Which is totally a thing, right? Please excuse me while I go plan out the menu (and my outfit!) for a fancy, standing room only cocktail brunch party. Happy Sunday!
With a sharp knife, cut the brie straight from the fridge, into even slices. Spread the mustard on one slice of bread and the jam on the other. Layer the ham on the mustard-clad slice of bread and the brie on the jam slice. Sandwich the slices together. Melt about a tablespoon of butter in a medium skillet over medium-low heat. Swirl and add the sandwich and cook, flipping once, until golden brown and gooey, about 6 minutes total. Cut in to desired shapes and enjoy immediately.