Lachuch

(Yemenite Crumpet Pancakes)

Somewhere between a crumpet, a pancake, and an Ethiopian injera, lachuch gets its signature holes from a generous lashing of yeast and a quick ferment. Irit Aharon (opposite, bottom left), who grew up in the Yemenite Quarter and hosts visitors to the shuk for lachuch in a tiny space adjacent to the home she inherited from her Syrian mother and Yemenite father, graciously taught me how to perfect the recipe. If things go according to plan, the batter will cook, drying from the outside in, all the while developing its telltale holes. It’s important to cool off the pan between pancakes; a too-hot surface will burn the bottom of the pancake before the top is cooked through. Many of the Yemenite soup joints near my house serve lachuch to mop up rich, spicy broth; for this, make the larger version. I often shrink them down to pancake size and top them with warmed honey and melted butter. Either way, you can’t lose.

Makes 10 large or 15 smaller pancakes

Active Time: 45 minutes

Total Time: 1 hour 30 minutes

4 cups all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons instant (rapid-rise) yeast

1 teaspoon ground fenugreek

1 teaspoon baking soda

3¾ cups lukewarm water, plus more as needed

2 teaspoons fine sea salt

Vegetable oil, for cooking

Warmed honey and salted butter, for serving

In a large, wide-bottomed bowl whisk together the flour, yeast, fenugreek, and baking soda. Slowly whisk in 3½ cups of the water, until the mixture is the thickness of pancake batter. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and rest in a warm place until the batter more than doubles in size, has thickened considerably, and is fluffy and spongy, 35 to 45 minutes. Uncover, gently whisk in the remaining ¼ cup water until the batter is the texture of a thick, pourable milk shake.

Line a large sheet pan with a clean kitchen towel and set aside. Have handy a small bowl filled with vegetable oil. Heat an 8- or 9-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, then use a paper towel to wipe the inside of the skillet with a very thin sheen of oil. Working quickly, and keeping the batter covered between pancakes, ladle or pour ⅓ cup of the batter into the skillet and cook until the batter dries from the outside in and airy holes poke their way through the batter, covering the skillet during the last 30 seconds, 3 to 4 minutes. Slide the lachuch over onto the towel-lined baking sheet. Repeat with the remaining batter, running the pan under cold water and slicking the skillet with a bit of oil between pancakes. Store between pieces of parchment paper, wax paper, or flour sacks for 1 to 2 days (the bread is best eaten fresh and can mold quickly because it’s so moist). Serve with a schmear of jam. Top with warm honey and butter.

Note

To make larger pancakes, which are great for mopping up soup or sauce, use ½ cup batter instead of ⅓ cup.

Top, L-R: Yemenite lachuch, finished and in process, in the Yemenite Quarter near the shuk. Bottom, L-R: Irit Aharon, Lachuch with warm honey and butter

Tahini

Prized for its versatility, nutritional value, and deeply satisfying nutty richness, tahini is something I use practically every day. Tahini is so popular here that Israelis are second only to the Chinese in per capita sesame seed consumption. Ideally made from nothing more than ground sesame seeds, it’s Israel’s answer to peanut butter but so much more versatile. Here, the best tahini is made in Arab and Palestinian factories with sesame seeds imported primarily from Humera, in Ethiopia, where they’re grown in one of the most fertile soil microclimates on earth. To make tahini, sesame seeds are soaked in water (sometimes salted), then crushed so the hull separates from the tender inner germ. The seeds are then run through a centrifuge to separate and dispose of the waste before being roasted and finally ground between huge millstones to produce the tahini virtually every Israeli has in their cupboard. Though it’s shelf-stable, the date of production is stamped visibly on many jars. The fresher the tahini, the less likely it is to separate, meaning you don’t need to stir it before using. At Amrani, the spice and dry-goods shop I frequent in the shuk (see this page), Noni, one of the brothers, always looks for the most recent dates for me. “See?” he joked recently on a ninety-degree day as he handed over a jar, “it’s still warm.”