Comfort Me with Chickpeas

Forget writing, editing, and books. Let’s talk about chickpeas. I’ve had an unholy love of the chickpea for many many years. When everything in the kitchen looks unappealing, I can usually choke down a little hummus. My favorite Indian dish? Channa masala. Felafel? Yes please, I’d like it with a schmear of hummus too.

We had a snow day yesterday. I finished my editing project around 1, and I was so crabby even the dog gave me a wide berth. I didn’t want to stay at home, but it was too much trouble to go out in the snow, and when, god, when is spring ever going to come? And then DP made me roasted spicy chickpeas and most of my troubles melted away.

Marriage-Saving Spicy Roasted Chickpeas

Take 1-2 cans of chickpeas. Rinse and drain.

Lay out on a cooking sheet or casserole pan in a single layer.

Sprinkle with enough olive oil that they’re coated, but not enough that you have standing pools of olive oil.

Stick them in an oven at 400 degrees (mark 6 or 200 degrees Celsius) for 45 minutes.

It could take you 45 minutes to decide on your spice mixture. DP used 2 Tb. each of thyme, parsley (dried), smoked paprika, sea salt, crushed red pepper, and 2 ts of black pepper. It was spicy and delicious. We thought about just rosemary and sea salt. Next time we might use garam masala or even curry powder. Just salt might be more kid friendly. You could probably even make it sweet with sugar and cinnamon, but I’m more of a savory type.

Add spices, mix thoroughly, and chow down.

This recipe is a good freelance snack. Work away while the chickpeas are roasting and then reward yourself with spicy goodness. Hell, you have time to boil dried chickpeas, which makes the whole thing so cheap you want to look at the $5 bowl of roasted chickpeas served at [fancy bar redacted] and cry.

How do you get through February?

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16 responses to “Comfort Me with Chickpeas

  1. MMMMM. Hummus! MMMMM. Falafel!

    Head down and hard at work. That’s how I get through February. Snow piled higher than my head. Temps in single digits for the next week. It ain’t going away soon.

    I’ve been spending so much time with the treadmill that I’ve given it a name: Myles.

      • A gym? Really? OMG! Even though my middle name is “mountain bike,” and I’ve run more marathons than, well, than the Wise Woman would recommend, I cannot imagine joining a gym. This is why I moved to [country redacted] where summers are mild, but so too are winters. I can exercise outside all year around.

        I’ve got a nice guest room. Wanna come stay here for the winter? Isn’t that better than joining a gym? You can blog from here. Really!

      • You were born so long after I was that you might not even know I was born in [northeastern state redacted] and lived there for almost as many years as you have fingers on one and a half hands! AND I even lived in O–awa in that year that they got 13 feet of snow! Do you even know where the Mason-Dixon line is?

        But, yeah, that was in the days before they invented gyms.

      • Yes, it’s above Maryland. And you’ll notice I say “adult years.” I’m not as dumb as I look. And I’ve lived in the state you were born in for thirteen years as of this July. 😛

      • I am sure YOU would have insisted you were an adult at that age as I did then, and must do today to win this argument.

  2. I plan ridiculous manic plans. To get an idea, I ran a mile and my back began to hurt badly. The next day, I charted out fall marathons. A trail one, followed 2 weeks later by a hilly downstate one, then New Orleans next January. I ran a painful mile, and that is my logical response. My writing plan is just as logical. February’s midlife crisis.

  3. I love hummus! There’s a place around here that makes black bean hummus with just the right touch of cayenne. Yum.

    But for winters like these, I go for homemade baked potato soup. Carbs, fat, cheese, and bacon. Dude.

  4. Hmmm. With the best of intentions, I buy the hummus and store it away in the fridge, but when given the chance will choose just about anything other than the hummus for a snack. It usually gets thrown out. And I will pick the chickpeas out of a salad.

    All of which makes me sound as unhealthy as I probably am.

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