I used to think falafel was fussy and overcomplicated — then I soaked dried chickpeas overnight, blitzed them with onion, garlic and herbs, and had 19 perfect fritters in under 30 minutes.
Until recently, if you’d asked me whether I ever wanted to make falafel at home, I’d have said “sure, one day,” but what I meant was “nah, why bother?” I assumed falafel was fussy, with a long ingredient list — perhaps like a fritter bound with eggs and flour and breaded, all of which sounded like needless steps, not to mention the prospect of deep-frying. I figured there were as many falafel recipes as there are people who make them, so whatever I tried would be “wrong” by someone’s standard — too firm or too soft, with chickpeas instead of favas or vice-versa. But that wasn’t the whole truth. Down below 14th Street, there are multiple perfectly executed falafel shops (Taim and Mamoun’s), so whenever I thought about whether I needed a homemade recipe, I knew I could get a great sandwich before I even wrote a grocery list.
Okay, I’m not proud of this. I like to think of myself as curious about cooking, so it’s a little pathetic that I let falafel feel like some highly complex task without ever actually reading a few recipes. Had I done the reading, I would have learned several eye-opening things: you must start with dried chickpeas (don’t use canned), but you don’t have to pre-cook them — you simply soak them overnight in cold water, grind them with seasonings and herbs, shape spoonfuls, and fry them in less than an inch of oil for a few minutes. There is no egg, no breading; the result is vegan, gluten-free, cheap and — frankly — criminally easy. I had to make it immediately.
In real life, I waited until the first night of Hanukkah for two reasons: one, fried food is basically the holiday’s rule, and two, a family member had gone vegan and I enjoy the challenge of new menus. Making falafel for ten people was so straightforward I had spare time, and I even decided to make pita bread. Maybe I’m a little nuts, but most store-bought pita is dry and disappointing; even the worst homemade pitas (the few that refuse to puff consistently) are still delicious.
Servings: Makes 19 falafel fritters (about 1.5 inches / 3.8 cm diameter); enough for 4–6 pita sandwiches
Time: 30 minutes active, plus an overnight soak and a 30-minute rest
I know many people dread frying, but falafel avoids most of the usual headaches. You don’t need deep oil — 3/4 inch (≈2 cm) is fine. You won’t have to worry about a raw center while the exterior burns, and the fritters don’t soak up grease the way other fried foods do: I measured the oil before and after and found each ball picked up only about half a teaspoon of oil. Pack 3–4 into a pita; they feel shockingly light, not greasy.
This recipe yields 19 falafel fritters (about 1.5 inches each) using a 1.5-tablespoon cookie scoop. I estimate 3–4 falafel per medium-large pita to make 4–6 sandwiches; we preferred three per pita. The recipe scales well — double it for a crowd or to freeze extras for another night.
Ingredient | Imperial | Metric | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
Dried chickpeas | 1/2 pound (1 1/4 cups) | 225 g | — |
Large onion, roughly chopped | 1/2 onion | — | Or 1 cup chopped scallions |
Garlic cloves, peeled | 2–4 cloves | — | Use 4 for stronger flavor; adjust to taste |
Fresh parsley, finely chopped | 1/4 cup | — | Or a big handful |
Fresh cilantro, finely chopped | 1/4 cup | — | Or a big handful |
Fine sea salt or kosher salt | 1 tsp fine sea salt or 2 tsp kosher salt | — | Plus more to taste |
Hot red pepper flakes | 1/2–1 tsp | — | Or milder urfa biber / Aleppo pepper |
Ground cumin | 1 tsp | — | — |
Peanut or vegetable oil | — | — | For frying |
To serve: pitas, tahini sauce (recipe below), tomato–cucumber salad, harissa or another hot sauce (e.g., zhoug), and pickled vegetables such as cucumbers, red onion, or mango (amba)
Place the dried chickpeas in a large bowl and cover with several inches of cold water. I like to add 1 tablespoon kosher salt per pound of chickpeas to the soaking water; it seasons them and won’t toughen or significantly slow cooking. Let them soak overnight.
Drain the chickpeas thoroughly. In a food processor or very strong blender, pulse the onion, garlic and herbs until coarsely chopped. Add the drained chickpeas, salt and spices and process until the mixture is finely chopped but not pureed — the texture should resemble cooked couscous with some slightly larger bits. You should be able to pinch it together so it holds a shape.
Transfer the mixture to a bowl, cover with plastic wrap and chill in the refrigerator for a few hours if you can; even 30 minutes helps the mix thicken and hold shape better. This is also a good time to prepare any accompaniments.
Form the mixture into walnut-sized balls. Use a falafel scoop, tablespoon, or a 1.5-tablespoon cookie scoop, pressing the mix firmly into the scoop to compress it, then rolling gently in your hands to form a ball. Repeat with the remaining mixture. (You’ll be glad you pre-shaped them — they cook quickly, and you don’t want to be multitasking at the pan.)
Heat 3/4 to 1 inch of oil in a medium–large frying pan to about 375°F (≈190°C). Fry about six fritters at a time, turning when the underside is a warm, toasty brown, and remove when the other side matches — about 3 minutes per batch. Drain on paper towels and repeat with the rest.
(No thermometer? 375°F is very hot. On my stove it takes about five minutes on high to reach that temperature. Or test with a small ball — if it cooks in roughly three minutes, you’re in the right zone.)
Split a pita, spread a little tahini sauce and a spoonful of salad on the bottom, add 3–4 falafel, then top with more tomato–cucumber salad, extra tahini, a hot sauce of your choice, and pickles if desired.
Tahini sauce: Exact ratios vary by tahini brand and taste, but for this batch a rough guideline is: 1/2 cup well-stirred tahini + 1 minced or grated garlic clove + juice of 1/2 lemon (more to taste) + salt + water as needed to thin. Add water a tablespoon at a time until the sauce is loose and spoonable, tasting as you go.
Some recipes add flour for structure or baking powder for extra lift. I tried both and prefer the purist version without them. If you want to experiment, add flour one tablespoon at a time and fry a test ball after each addition; don’t exceed about 4 tablespoons or the result becomes heavy. For baking powder, try 1–1½ teaspoons for the whole batch — the difference is small and optional.
I’d forgotten how easy pita is; after this I made it four more times in two weeks. Even imperfect pitas (the few that refuse to puff fully) are still delicious; they rewarm well or can be kept warm in a napkin-lined basket. You know you want to.
You guys, I’m the kind of home cook who finds chopping cathartic. A decade after my mother-in-law gave me a particular tool (she uses it for picture-perfect Salad Olivier and soups), I’d never used it — until I had a mountain of cucumbers and tomatoes for Hanukkah. It mangled the tomatoes a bit, but regret nothing.
