Having a ball

FRAMINGHAM - The falafel sandwich at Big Fresh Cafe is a two-handed affair, a soft pita pocket stuffed with golden brown balls of deep-fried ground chickpeas, diced tomato and cucumber, shredded lettuce, and a drizzle of tahini, a sauce made from ground sesame seeds, lemon juice, and garlic.

Falafel is a specialty of many Middle Eastern countries, where it's offered at corner stands, take-out windows, and cafes. Quite a few claim it as their own, though falafel is believed to have originated in Egypt, and later spread to Israel, Lebanon, and neighboring nations. What makes it so popular in the region is the use of indigenous legumes - typically chickpeas and fava beans - that are cheap and plentiful. Soak and grind them, add onion, parsley, garlic, cumin, and coriander, then roll the mixture into balls, cook them in a bath of hot oil, and you have a memorable dish.

That's what my friend Joyce Schwartz thought when she ate falafel in Israel last spring and began craving it when she returned. To get her post-travel fix, Joyce set out on a falafel tour of the Boston area. I went along for the ride, and, of course, the comparison tasting.

Falafel is vegetarian and healthful (even though the chickpea mixture is fried, little oil is absorbed if it's made correctly). It goes without saying that falafel that has been sitting around, and (gasp) reheated in the microwave, is dreadful. You know you're at a good place if you're the one doing the waiting.

At Framingham's Big Fresh Cafe, which is squeezed between fast-food joints in a strip mall, you can choose falafel in pita, a wrap, or a salad plate. The balls are freshly fried, well seasoned, but not quite as tender as Joyce remembers they were at small stands in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. But she likes the idea that the restaurant uses mostly organic produce.

Next stop is Rami's, a kosher cafe on Harvard Street in Brookline. Joyce chooses the pita sandwich, which contains eight small balls of warm falafel, diced tomatoes, cucumbers, shredded lettuce and red cabbage, sliced pickles, and a little hummus.

These rounds are crunchy on the outside, tender with the starchy texture of ground chickpeas (this is part of falafel's appeal), gently seasoned with cumin and ground coriander. The sandwich is a tad messy to eat (part of the fun), and amply filling.

While most places form falafel with a small ice-cream scoop, Rami's has a nifty falafel-making machine that extrudes small pellets of dough from a rotating tube, dropping them into hot oil. The machine works practically nonstop at lunchtime. There are only eight tables and a small counter at this 17-year-old cafe, so most regulars get their falafel to go. Recalling Israel's many falafel stands, Joyce says, "You'd know the good places in the cities because they would have lines of people waiting."

While falafel takes only minutes to cook, lines tend to move slowly because the rounds are fried to order, and the sandwiches assembled one by one. "That's what's great about falafel," says Joyce. "You can customize it how you want it." She also likes the idea that it's so inexpensive. "Lunch would end up being about $3 to $4 and it would hold you all day."

Falafel is street food in Lebanon, too, and recipes are passed down the generations. At the 24-year-old Cafe Barada, a family-owned Lebanese restaurant in Cambridge, Claude Salameh makes falafel just as she was taught years ago in her native country. A combination of chickpeas and fava beans are soaked overnight and then ground with onion, garlic, and spices. Black and Syrian pepper - also called Aleppo pepper, a medium-hot, sweet-smoky red pepper - both offer a pleasant but not overly spicy kick. "These have a distinctly different flavor and they're denser and heartier tasting, maybe because of the fava beans," says Joyce.

Barada makes large falafel, about the size of squash balls, and after they're fried, Salameh's son Charbel explains, "They're smashed to break them up a bit so falafel fills the entire length of the bread." Also inside the rolled-up pita are tomatoes, sweet-sour wild cucumber pickles, tahini, and flat-leaf parsley.

Halfway through our quest, I decide to make falafel. How hard could this 10-ingredient dish be? I reach for canned chickpeas (not knowing that falafel is always made from dried, soaked - and uncooked - beans). When I drop the liquid-logged balls into hot oil, they immediately disintegrate. Poof! The rounds disappear and the oil turns into a grainy sludge.

Thanks to a recipe from Moshe Sander of Cafe Jaffa, a small restaurant on Gloucester Street in Boston, our fourth stop, my second attempt at homemade falafel is a success. The cafe, owned by Israeli-born brothers Moshe and Daniel Sander, who moved here 30 years ago, makes falafel that are crusty, hot, and flecked with green.

The warm spice comes from jalapenos and black pepper. Green bell pepper and parsley leaves ground with the chickpeas tint the falafel green. Garlic, cumin, and coriander lend earthy flavors. "It's got a really good taste to it," says Joyce, who also likes the zesty seasoning.

Like Barada, Jaffa's sandwiches are rolled up in large pita rounds, which Moshe Sander says "hold together better than a pita pocket." The bread comes from Bob's Pita Bakery, a Lebanese-owned business in Roslindale. In another nod to international relations, Sander says his pickles come from a Palestinian supplier in New York.

With the proliferation of falafel stands in Israel, no one makes falafel at home anymore, explains Sander. But everyone of all ages eats it, he says, "because it tastes good, it's inexpensive, and it's available on every street corner. Kids grow up with it and they keep eating it as adults."

As for the falafel hunters, we weren't raised on the golden chickpea balls, but we now know what to look for: falafel emerging from the deep fryer every few minutes, tender bread, crisp vegetables, plenty of napkins, and a line out the door.

Big Fresh Cafe, 341 Cochituate Road, Framingham, 508-879-7000.

Cafe Barada, 2269 Massachusetts Ave., Cambridge, 617-354-2112.

Cafe Jaffa, 48 Gloucester St., Boston, 617-536-0230.

Rami's, 324 Harvard St., Brookline, 617-738-3577.