For the Lightest, Fluffiest Falafel, This Award-Winning Chef Uses His Mother’s Recipe
Chef Michael Mina, born in Cairo, Egypt, and raised in rural Washington state, has plenty of accomplishments under his belt. The now Las Vegas-based chef is the founder of MINA group, which has opened more than 30 restaurants across the country, including multiple Michelin-starred eateries. He's cooked for three presidents and just published his second cookbook. But lately, Mina has been showing the culinary world that there's nothing quite as special as returning to your roots.
When Mina was 2 years old, he and his parents left Egypt for Ellensburg, Washington, a small town known for its rodeo, where they already had relatives nearby.
"All my parents cooked was Arabic at home," said Mina. "My family would gather every weekend and the culture was all ingrained. We'd eat so much food. But I wasn't really understanding the foundation of it."
At school in rural America, Mina was only too aware of how different he was from other students.
"Being Egyptian wasn't something that you went running around putting on the back of your shirt," he said. His family spoke Arabic at home and ate foods his friends didn't understand.
When he began working at restaurants in high school, he focused on learning to cook everything but Middle Eastern cuisine. He went on to culinary school and became "infatuated with European cooking," he said.
Even so, his upbringing and heritage impacted his cooking, influencing the way he used spices and flavors to create memorable dishes. He began dabbling with Mediterranean cuisines, and began seeing connections between the foods of his childhood and other food traditions.
"I started to see a lot of things that I grew up eating," he said. "I started to understand that Egypt has so much depth of history, and of people invading it, ... that they have their own food, and then they have twists on other people's food. It gets pretty deep when you really start to peel back the layers."
About a decade ago, Mina began to travel to the Middle East for work. He found himself extending his trips to research local foods.
"Every time I went to Egypt, I realized we had to go again," he said.
"I always loved my mom's. Everywhere I went, I never had one that was even close to hers," Mina said. So he put it on his menus. He's played with the mix over the years, such as making it into a patty for a vegetarian burger, but the basic recipe is still his mother's.
Split dried fava beans are soaked overnight, then passed through a meat grinder—his mother's secret method for a "light, almost delicate" texture, Mina said. You can use a food processor instead, but be careful not to overgrind the beans.
Another key to successful ta'ameya is the order the ingredients are added. The onions and garlic come first, followed by the beans, and then the herbs, spices, and salt.
"Make sure it's not too wet, because if it's too wet, it gets dense," Mina added. "You want it to be kind of crumbly, like it could almost fall apart while you're frying it. Sometimes you get falafel and you could actually throw it at somebody—not what you want." Since the balls are so delicate, they're fried in a skillet on the stovetop instead of the typical deep fryer.
Mina said that when he flies home to Washington to visit his mom, ta'ameya is one of the dishes he always requests. It brings back warm childhood memories.
"The way she made it was so special," he said. "She would make the bread, and then the falafel, and then bake the bread, and then have salad, so you'd eat it all fresh." That's what he remembers most, he said: "the smell of it all together."
My mom used a hand grinder to make hers, but you can use a food processor. My buddy Moustafa Elrefaey says the key is the order in which you add the ingredients. Start with the aromatics—onions, garlic—then add the drained soaked beans. Only add the herbs, spices, and salt at the end.
Some say that the wealthier you are, the more sesame seeds you use to coat the ta'ameya before frying. If you're poor, you use only coriander seeds. I use a blend of both.
Extra ta'ameya can be frozen for up to a month and reheated from frozen for 20 minutes.
Serves 6 to 8; makes 24 ta'ameya
In a food processor, pulse together the onion, garlic, parsley, and cilantro until evenly blended but not completely smooth, about 10 (1-second) pulses. Add the fava beans and pulse until the largest pieces of fava are no bigger than a peppercorn, about 40 (1-second) pulses, scraping down the sides now and again for even blending. Pulse in the cumin, coriander, cayenne, and salt and blend until you have a cohesive mass that holds together and can be formed into balls without crumbling much.
For frying, have a large Dutch oven and spider skimmer or slotted spoon handy and line a sheet pan with paper towels. In a shallow plate or bowl, combine the crushed coriander seeds and sesame seeds. Shape the blend into 24 balls about 2 tablespoons each and set on a separate pan or plate in a single layer.
Heat 1 1/2 inches of oil in the Dutch oven over medium-high heat until an instant-read thermometer registers nearly 350 degrees F or when bubbles form around a wooden spoon placed in the oil. Gently roll the balls, then press into the coriander-sesame mix to flatten into 1/2-inch (12mm) thick, 2-inch wide patties. In batches of 6, carefully lower the ta'ameya into the oil and fry, turning once or twice, until dark brown on the outside, about 3 minutes total. Transfer the ta'ameya to the paper towels to drain. Sprinkle with flaky salt, if desired. Skim the oil as needed to get rid of stray pieces of sesame seeds and coriander. Check the temperature, adjusting the heat as necessary to maintain 350 degrees F before frying the next batch.
Serve warm with tahina sauce and baladi bread. Ta'ameya can also be eaten at room temperature or reheated in a 350 degrees F oven for 10 minutes.
Recipe reprinted with permission from "My Egypt: Cooking from My Roots (A Cookbook)" by Michael Mina. Published by Voracious, an imprint of Little, Brown.
