Some of my recipes I develop from scratch. I stand in my kitchen, open the pantry, stare into the fridge, sniff spices, and am often quite inspired by what I have on hand. Some of these improv dishes end up tasting so good that I take the plunge and work on developing them into replicable recipes.

Other times, my recipe development is based around a well-established dish. Having lived in France and Belgium, a handful or two of my recipes on this site are of European origin. When I develop these recipes, I like to immerse myself in the history and lore surrounding the dish. Sometimes, it can be hard to find much regarding the story of the recipe, especially in a language I can read (thank Google for Google Translate).

Today’s dish, on the other hand, has a plethora of very informative articles and stories all over the web. Falafel, I’ve learned, has deep connections to one of the world’s longest, ongoing conflicts: the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I’m not going to attempt to explain the conflict in this blog post, but I’ve gone down a very interesting rabbit hole reading about the history of the falafel within the context of the controversial conflict. If you’re interested, start with the New York Times article titled, “A History of the Mideast in the Humble Chickpea.”

From what I’ve discovered, it appears the general consensus is that the falafel originated in Egypt. Coptic Christians weren’t allowed to eat meat during the Lent holiday, still wanted to eat something akin to meat, and ended up creating the original falafel with fava beans. With a little movement and a little time, the recipe eventually made its way north across the border and into the Israel/Palestine region. Again, for more info on the matter, check out the above-mentioned article.

I made my first attempt at making falafel in college. Other than canned chickpeas, I really can’t remember what other ingredients I used. I do remember that the end result was a crumbly pile of fried something sitting on a paper towel. I passed the whole process off as being too difficult and returned to my daily peanut butter and honey sandwiches.

Years passed and I eventually decided to give the whole thing another go. Today I present to you what I make when I’m in the mood for falafel. If you’re used to making falafel with canned or other cooked chickpeas, you’re in for a new experience! Exciting or what. In this recipe, the general idea is that you soak the dried chickpeas for an entire day, and then process them raw in a food processor with the other supplementary ingredients. From there, everything chills a bit longer, and then is formed into patties that take a deep dive into hot oil.

In addition to chickpeas, these falafel contain ingredients you might find in your everyday falafel: onion, garlic, fresh herbs, and a healthy dose of spices. If you don’t have red pepper flakes on hand, feel free to use cayenne pepper as a substitute. You’re not trying to make the falafel spicy, the heat just gives the overall flavor a bit more body.

Part two of this recipe is the tahini sauce. There is nothing complicated or difficult about this sauce, but it tastes so good with the falafel. You’ll combine the tahini, lemon juice, salt, and garlic, and then gradually add some water to thin the sauce to a consistency you are happy with.

When it comes time to serve, accompanied by the tahini sauce and maybe a bowl of tzatziki, these falafel do pretty well on their own. These are independent falafel, you could say.