The Cultural Journey of Sesame Seeds Through History and Flavors

Sesame seeds have been part of my story for as long as I can remember—from the lively bakeries of Istanbul to the warm ovens of my café here in Emeryville. As both a historian and an immigrant, I see sesame as more than an ingredient. It is a bridge between cultures, faiths, and generations. Each seed holds a memory, a piece of history, and a flavor that connects us across time and place.

A Seed Older Than History

Sesame is one of the world’s oldest cultivated crops. Archaeological findings trace its origins back over 5,000 years to ancient India and Africa. In Mesopotamia, sesame oil was used in rituals and feasts, a symbol of life and abundance. In Anatolia and the eastern Mediterranean, sesame carried similar meaning—it represented blessing and good fortune.

Even in our language and stories, sesame appears again and again. In Turkish, we still say “Açıl Susam Açıl”—“Open Sesame”—from the old tale of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves. It’s a phrase that reminds us of wonder, generosity, and the power of what’s hidden inside something so small.

Why We Roast Sesame for Simit

In our bakery, roasting sesame is not just a step in the recipe—it’s a ritual. Raw sesame has little taste, but when roasted, its natural oils bloom, filling the air with warmth and depth. The seeds turn golden, crisp, and aromatic, clinging perfectly to the molasses-dipped dough of our simit.

That fragrance—the nutty, toasty smell that escapes from the oven—always takes me home. It reminds me of the mornings in Istanbul, when street vendors sold simit by the Bosphorus and everyone started their day with tea and bread.

Without roasting, simit would lose its spirit. Studies even show that roasting can double the number of flavor compounds in sesame. But more than that, it awakens memory.

Freshly baked simit from Simurgh Bakery, generously coated with aromatic roasted sesame seeds, stacked and ready to enjoy.

The Magic of Tahin and Helva

When sesame is ground, it becomes tahin—a creamy paste as essential to our cuisine as olive oil. Its taste is earthy, rich, and smooth, like almond butter with a story to tell. And when tahin meets sugar or honey, it transforms into helva (or halva)—one of the oldest and most meaningful desserts in our part of the world.

Helva is not just sweet; it is emotional. We make it to celebrate new beginnings and also to remember those who have passed. In Greece, it’s served during Lent. In Turkey, it’s shared at funerals, births, and weddings alike. It reminds us that sweetness and sorrow can live side by side.

Simple Tahin Helva Recipe (Simurgh Style)

• 1 cup tahini

• ½ cup olive oil

• ½ cup honey (or simple syrup)

Mix the tahini and olive oil until smooth. Fold in the honey until thick and glossy. Pour into a small tray, let it cool, and slice. The result is dense, nutty, and comforting—a taste that connects past and present.

A Seed That Connects Us All

Sesame seeds are more than just food; they are stories you can taste. From the bustling streets of Istanbul to the creative, ever-changing heart of Emeryville—where small artisanal shops share blocks with biotech labs—these tiny seeds have become part of our shared landscape.

Emeryville is a place of innovation and craft. Every day I see people experimenting, building, and creating—whether in a lab, a studio, or a kitchen. It feels like the same curiosity that carried sesame from ancient fields to modern tables.

When I roast sesame seeds in the bakery, I feel connected to both worlds—the old and the new. I think of my mother, who taught me that food carries stories, and I think of my customers here, who bring their own stories to the café each day.

With every bite of simit or halva cookies, we share something deeper than flavor. We share history, home, and hope.

So next time you see sesame—on your bread, in your dessert, or on your dish—pause for a moment. Reflect on the journey of these seeds and the rich tapestry of experiences they represent.