How to Make Sangak Taste Like Chicharrones

What other Pexican delights are out there?

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My post on putting must-o-musir (otherwise known as Persian yogurt shallot dip) on fish tacos caught the attention of our art director Laila, who's of Persian and Mexican descent and calls herself a Pexican--ha! She told me that not only does her family use must-o-musir on their Mexican food, but that they even do koobideh burritos! Yum ... and that one totally makes sense
This came as a happy accident. I bought some fresh sangak from Wholesome Choice and was intent on eating it over the course of an evening and breakfast, but the chica had made said tacos, and the sangak became hard. Those of ustedes who enjoy this amazing flatbread know that if you buy it fresh, it becomes nearly inedible within a couple of days and quickly loses its toasty, wheaty flavor. I actually left it in the open air for about three days, until it became as hard as a cutting board.

Common sense dictated I should throw it away, but like Homer with the sub in the episode where Selma wanted to get pregnant and took Lisa and Bart to Duff Gardens, I just couldn't toss it. Instead, I set the oven to 365 degrees, preheated it for 10 minutes, then threw in the slab of sangak. I went back to watching some game on ESPN or other, and forget about it until I began to smell smoke.

The others Forkers understand cooking--all I know about heat is that it makes bread soft. It did the opposite to the sangak. Disappointed, I cracked off a charred piece and bit it. It tasted just like pork rinds. From somewhere within its soul, the sangak became fatty, gnarled, gleaming and didn't burn. Indeed, like chicharrones, I was only able to take a couple of bites before pushing it away--it was simply too rich.

Do I suggest the chicharrón treatment to sangak? No, it's much better fresh. But for those of you who can't get to all your sangak, try the transformation. You just might be surprised.

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