The art of tahini: one man’s quest to get it just right

In the foreground you’ll see it drizzled over anything to come near it without an umbrella: baked kofta, grilled meat or fish, roasted vegetables, shakshuka. In the background, meanwhile, you won’t see it but you’ll be wondering how it is that a chilled cucumber soup, for example, can be so rich and nutty until you have that ‘ta-da! ta-ha-ini!’ moment. All manner of dressings and sauces or spreads and stews will have a tablespoon or two of tahini in them, there to make the dish rich and creamy and utterly moreish. Sometimes it can just be sitting there alongside a dish, providing the silky and luxurious element to a freshly fried fritter or falafel. It doesn’t look like much, certainly, but – once loosened up with a bit of lemon juice and water, crushed garlic and salt – it becomes the thoroughly addictive secret behind so much of the country’s cooking.