Tunisian Fricasses

Fricassé: A Labor of Love and a Family Obsession

On special occasions, our mom would prepare these irresistible little sandwiches—fricassés—golden, savory, and absolutely addictive. These days, I make them once a month for our Saturday lunches, and the tradition is alive and well. My brothers, Gerard and Paul, are totally hooked; they can each devour a dozen in one sitting. And now, our kids love them just as much as we did.

There’s nothing more heartwarming than getting that early Saturday call from Paul, offering detailed instructions on what to cook. When that happens, I step right into our mother’s shoes—preparing her favorite son’s favorite dish with the same love and care she did.

What Is a Fricassé?

At its core, a fricassé is a savory fried donut—made with a soft, enriched bread dough. The dough includes eggs and must rise twice: once as a whole, and again after being shaped into elongated balls. When fried properly, the buns puff up beautifully and remain soft and pillowy.

But what truly makes them special—beyond the nostalgia—is the layering of flavors. There’s an order, a rhythm, to assembling them. Each ingredient builds upon the next, creating that unforgettable, craveable balance.

And yes—it’s a labor of love. Preparing the fillings, frying the dough, and assembling them one by one takes time and care. But it’s always worth it.

The Signature Fillings

Here’s what goes inside each fricassé, in this order:

• Slata Mechouia – Roasted peppers and tomatoes, peeled and blended with garlic, olive oil, salt, and lemon juice. Smoky and tangy.

• Slata Jiida – A bright Israeli-style salad made with cucumbers, tomatoes, radishes, and onions—all diced into impossibly small pieces.

• Boiled Potatoes – Sliced very thinly or shredded for extra softness.

• Hard-Boiled Eggs – Also shredded, adding richness and texture.

• Black Olives – For a salty, briny bite.

• Capers – Just the right amount for a tangy punch.

• Tuna (only ventresca, the buttery belly cut) – Because quality matters.

• Harissa – Thinned with a bit of water and olive oil to drizzle over the top, adding a spicy finish.

I’ve made over a hundred at a time—and no matter how many I prepare, there’s never a single one left.

It’s more than food. It’s a memory, a ritual, and an act of devotion. And every time I make them, I feel my mother in the kitchen with me.