Homemade Falafel Pan Fried Or Baked

End of August. Late summer Houston is its own specific climate. The trees look exhausted. The grass is yellow except where the sprinklers reach. The cicadas are loud at 6 PM. The smoker on the dawn schedule still. Some mornings I sit on the back porch with my coffee at 5:30 and the world feels like it's standing still. Smokey at my feet. The cardinals at the feeder. The smoker just lit, smoke beginning to ribbon. The whole neighborhood asleep. The morning is mine. The morning was always mine but I didn't know it until I had time to notice.

Tyler called Tuesday with a question. He said, "Dad, I've been thinking about something. I want to do a Vietnamese-American men's cookbook with you. Not the restaurant cookbook. A separate thing. Just the food we cook for the people we love. Spring rolls and brisket and fish sauce and the simple stuff. Maybe self-published. Maybe just for the family. But I want us to write something together." I was quiet. He said, "Dad?" I said, "Tyler. Yes." He said, "Yeah?" I said, "Yes. Let's do it." We didn't talk about specifics. We just agreed. Tyler and I are going to write a cookbook together. Not for sale. Maybe for sale. Mostly for our family. The chain becomes the page.

Made smoked Korean-style short ribs Sunday — bone-in flanken-cut, marinated in a sweet-soy mixture (kalbi-style) but smoked instead of grilled. Six hours over post oak. The marinade caramelizing into a deep crust. Sliced and served with sticky rice and a quick cucumber kimchi I had made last week. Cross-Asian fusion. Lily came over and tasted it. She said, "This is restaurant-worthy." I said, "It's home-worthy. The restaurant gets enough of mine." She laughed. The home cooking and the restaurant cooking are now consciously separate. The family gets the experiments. The restaurant gets the proven dishes. The two streams converge in the cookbook.

When Tyler called and said he wanted a cookbook about the food we cook for the people we love — spring rolls and brisket and the simple stuff — this is exactly the kind of recipe I thought about. Falafel is nothing fancy, but made from dried chickpeas soaked overnight and fried in your own kitchen, it becomes something worth writing down. That’s the whole idea: the home gets the experiments, the love, the care. So here’s page one of the book Tyler and I haven’t written yet.

Prep Time: 20 minutes (plus overnight soak) | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 40 minutes active | Servings: 4 (about 16 falafel)

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups dried chickpeas, soaked overnight in cold water (do not use canned)
1/2 small yellow onion, roughly chopped
4 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1/2 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, packed
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, packed
1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour (or chickpea flour for gluten-free)
Neutral oil for pan-frying (avocado or vegetable), or olive oil spray for baking

Instructions

Soak the chickpeas. Place dried chickpeas in a large bowl and cover with at least 3 inches of cold water. Let soak 12–24 hours at room temperature. They will double in size. Drain and pat dry thoroughly — moisture is the enemy of a good falafel.
Blend the mixture. Add the drained chickpeas, onion, garlic, parsley, cilantro, cumin, coriander, cayenne, salt, and pepper to a food processor. Pulse until the mixture is finely ground but not a paste — you want texture, not hummus. Scrape down the sides as needed.
Add binders and rest. Transfer mixture to a bowl. Add baking powder and flour. Stir to combine. Cover and refrigerate at least 1 hour (or up to overnight). This rest is important — it firms the mixture so the falafel hold their shape.
Shape. Using a tablespoon or small cookie scoop, portion the mixture and gently press into balls or patties about 1 1/2 inches across. Do not pack too tight. Set on a parchment-lined sheet.
Pan-fry (preferred). Heat 1/4 inch of neutral oil in a heavy skillet (cast iron is ideal) over medium-high heat. When a drop of water flicked in sizzles immediately, add falafel in a single layer without crowding. Cook 3–4 minutes per side until deep golden brown and crisped. Transfer to a wire rack, not paper towels, to stay crisp. Season immediately with a pinch of salt.
Or bake. Preheat oven to 425°F. Brush a sheet pan with oil or spray generously with olive oil spray. Arrange falafel on the pan, spray the tops, and bake 15 minutes. Flip carefully, spray again, and bake another 10–12 minutes until golden and firm.
Serve. Serve hot with warm pita, sliced cucumber, tomato, pickled onion, and a generous pour of tahini sauce or yogurt sauce. Eat immediately — falafel wait for no one.

Nutrition (per serving, pan-fried, about 4 falafel)

Homemade Falafel Pan Fried Or Baked — What the Cookbook Looks Like