All posts filed under: chickpeas

launch date

When my sister’s firstborn left for college, she called me and wailed “but I’m not done!” I reassured her (correctly, as it turns out) that my nephew was a super guy and well-situated for a nice life.  But I was talking out my ear, as we both well knew in that moment, because in that moment how fine he was going to be was not at all what she was getting at. My own children were mere tots at the time that I was giving hollow reassurances to my sister, and as they get larger and more capable and closer to the door (one of them even got loose, I’m afraid–flew the coop for college in September while I had my back turned), I become more acutely aware of what I have and haven’t gotten around to teaching them, and how as a result they are (or aren’t) prepared for what will come their way.  I am fully aware, thank you very much, that efforts to prepare them undertaken by myself and others may have …

So many angles on tomato soup

The Tomatrix

The Pekingese notwithstanding, I have been a rabid fan of P.G. Wodehouse since I was a youngster.  In one of his most epic Jeeves/Wooster romps, The Code Of The Woosters, Bertie finds himself a guest at a posh country home, in a bedroom where the mantel is festooned with little china figurines.  As the plot thickens and various characters process their woes and frustrations, one by one the tchotchkes get dashed, passionately, to the hearth. At the end of the book, Bertie comments that the “rush of life at Totleigh Towers” has taken the ultimate toll, and not a shepherdess is left standing. It’s been a little refrain in my head since then, “the rush of life at Totleigh Towers.”  This has tons to do with tomato soup, as I will now demonstrate by deftly changing the subject with an imperceptible flick of my wrist. It’s the time of year when it must be accepted—in my zip code, anyway—that edible food will not be coming fresh from a patch of earth nearby for several moons …

chickpea salad with zatar

back in the salad again

I don’t have anything adorable to say about this salad, aside from the fact that (provided all ingredients are in the same building as you are) you can go from the 6pm announcement “Mama, I know I told you the potluck started at 6:30 but I just checked and she meant to say come around 4” to “Everybody in the car!” in about 15 minutes.  If you have only half the ingredients, provided they are the right half, you can cut your time down considerably and still have a tasty offering for the communal table, if not a good photograph of the salad itself.  It was actually quite a purty salad, though you would not necessarily know that from mug shot above. Continuing last week’s theme of why it is good to live near a Middle Eastern market, or to stock up in one when the chance presents itself, here is a little love poem for the spice mix known as zatar.  Also known as za’atar, zahtar, and zahatar.  To compound the confusion, however you …