In her classic The New Book of Middle Eastern Food (1985), cooking authority Claudia Roden reflects on the sanctity of bread in the Levant: “An invocation to God is murmured before kneading the dough, another before placing it in the oven. A hungry man will kiss a piece of bread given to him as alms,” she writes. It’s this deep reverence for bread that gave rise to fatteh, a dish that ensured that leftover pita bread would never be wasted. Rather, it would be celebrated.
A possible descendant of the Arabic “fotat,” meaning “crumbs,” fatteh starts with ripping the pocketed bread into pieces and then frying or toasting it. (These days, it’s common to start with fresh pita.)
Once the pita is crisp, it’s overlaid with warm poached meat, vegetables, or legumes and spoonfuls of lush, cool yogurt.
Finally, the fatteh is dappled with garnishes, often toasted nuts and fresh herbs. It’s a nourishing, festive combination that trades on contrasts: hot and cold, creamy and crunchy, earthy and bright.
Because each component can be made in advance, Anissa Helou, author of numerous titles including Feast: Food of the Islamic World (2018), names fatteh as one of her go-tos for entertaining. “You don’t have to fuss in the kitchen . . . and you end up with a beautiful kind of meal,” she explained when I phoned her to learn more about the dish.
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Toast Pita on a Rack
Coating the pita with oil helps to conduct heat evenly across its surface, since oil is more thermally conductive than bread. Placing the pita on a wire rack allows air to circulate underneath, eliminating the need for stirring. The toasted, waterproofed chips won’t soften beneath the liquidy yogurt.
Intrigued, I chose to explore fattet hummus, a vegetarian kind made with chickpeas and enjoyed mainly for breakfast or brunch at restaurants in cities such as Damascus and Beirut. Starting with the bottom layer, I toasted oil-coated pita pieces in the oven.
This was an easy way to achieve satisfying crispness, as opposed to shallow frying, which required more effort.
For the chickpeas, I used canned, which are reliably well seasoned and tender. Since the “whole point of fatteh,” Helou said, is the “contrast between hot and cold,” I simmered the legumes in their canning liquid to warm them through and help them soften just a bit more. Garlic and lemon juice, along with cumin, lent them tartness, earthiness, and savor.
To enrich the yogurt with roasty sesame tones and thicken it slightly, I stirred in tahini, a common add-in. More lemon and garlic echoed the flavors of the chickpeas; pomegranate molasses and fresh mint brought fruity sourness and herbal freshness. The raw garlic came on a bit too strong at first, so I soaked it in the lemon juice, tempering the enzyme that produces its harsh flavor.
Assembling fatteh is the last—and easiest—step. Arrange the pita on a platter and tumble the chickpeas on top. Lavish the dish with the creamy yogurt and then pretty things up with scatters of toasted pine nuts and fresh parsley. Drizzles of extra-virgin olive oil make your simple—but spectacular—brunch glisten.
Fattet Hummus (Crispy Pita with Garlicky Yogurt and Chickpeas)
Spoil guests (or yourself) with this Levantine dish of crisp pita; hot chickpeas; and cold, creamy yogurt.
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