Chickpea

Serve this stewlike chicken dish over couscous or mashed potatoes, or with a crusty baguette to soak up the flavorful broth. We used Cerignola olives from southern Italy; they are large and firm enough to hold up to slow cooking methods like braising.

Serve with Hummus Dip (recipe follows).

Köfte (KAAF-tee) are Turkish meatballs, usually made with lamb, herbs, and spices. This vegetarian version is sure to become a weeknight standby. Try it with steamed carrots and a romaine-based salad.

Creamy texture, pretty green color, and assertive taste—this dip has it all!

Horace, born Quinto Flacco of freed Roman slaves in the sleepy village of Venosa in the north of Basilicata, was educated in Rome and Athens in philosophy and literature and trained as a soldier. It was his poverty, though, that piqued him to write verse. A satirist, a classicist, a romantic, Horace was also a dyspeptic. He sought cures from alchemists and magicians. He journeyed to Chiusi (an Etruscan town in Umbria, fifteen kilometers from our home) to sit his ailing bones in icy, sulfurous baths. But it was this soup of dried peas and leeks, a food of his childhood, to which he paid homage in his works as his only cure. The folk of Venosa present, having little else to claim, make the soup in every osteria and taverna, each cook armed with at least one trucco—trick—that makes his soup the one and only true one. Here follows mine, its only trucco its artlessness.

Made from handmade whole wheat or egg pasta cut into wide ribbons—half of which are sautéed until golden in garlic and chile-scented oil then, along with the poached pasta, tossed with roasted almonds and chickpeas softened in a rosemary, garlic, and bay-scented bath. It is a beauty, the crisp, garlic-scented pasta against the soft, delicate ribbons of it with the mealy, nutty little chickpeas and the bitter almonds stitching them together into a plateful of fantasy conjured from homey stuffs.

I was raised by a beet-hating mother, so we never ate them when I was growing up. But when I left the nest and actually tasted a “forbidden” fresh beet, I was smitten with its sweet earthiness and beautiful color. For years, my mother and I battled back and forth: I relentlessly tried to convince her of beets’ many virtues, and she adamantly hung on to her contempt for them. One Sunday, she called Lucques to ask me what we were serving for supper that night. And then I did it—I lied to my mother. I couldn’t help myself, and made up the name of a beetless dish that I knew would tempt her. I told myself it was all for a good cause. When Mom came in that night and tasted roasted beets, bathed in toasty cumin vinaigrette and arranged on the plate with so many delicious treats, like Nyons olives, fried chickpeas, and slivers of dried ricotta, I knew I had cured her of her beet-hating ways.

This adaptation of a traditional Middle Eastern salad is filled with vigorous flavors and textures. I especially like it with Middle Eastern-or Spanish-themed meals. For a light summer meal, serve this with Sweet and White Potato Salad with Mixed Greens (page 188).

A feast of color and texture, this salad is, in a word, dazzling. As the centerpiece of a meal, it’s a pleasure to make and serve, ready in minutes.

Curry-scented chickpeas perch prettily atop a bed of chutney-flavored bulgur, making for a highly appealing grain and legume combination.

This simplified version of an Indian favorite is a delightful way to showcase tasty chickpeas.