Four Recipes And A Pilaf: The Halcyon Days of Chickpea Splendor

Desert Flower. Photo by Mir Elias, 2013.

"In winter / all the singing is in / the tops of the trees..."

"As the days take on a mellower light, and the apple at last / hangs really finish'd and indolent-ripe on the tree / Then for the teeming quietness, happiest days of all! / The brooding and blissful halcyon days!"

This winter, with its unusually warm temperatures, has been slightly disconcerting to say the least. However, it's been a real treat to wake up every morning to singing birds in "the tops of the trees".

According to Zen teacher and author Steve Hagan: "The halcyon days are two weeks of calm weather surrounding the winter solstice. They are a time to reflect---a dark and brooding time when we may be drawn into quiet contemplation on the past year as well as on larger dimensions and aspects of our lives." Hard to do in these busy days of a holiday season full of managing a variety of expectations, whether self-imposed or imposed by others. Also, the weather has been anything but calm in parts of the United States with violent tornados tearing out swaths of the country.

While my days have not quite been "halcyon" in the past weeks, circumstances have provided the opportunity to work with one ingredient, the topic of this post, in a calm and consistent fashion to explore four different recipes, all of which together would make for a complete dinner menu (i.e., a soup, a vegetarian entree, a non-vegetarian entree and a dessert). And this focus, in the midst of that managing expectations business I mentioned above, has frankly provided much needed distraction for the contemplative state in which I often find myself when yet another year draws to a close.

Chickpea or Cicer arietinum is a legume that has a history that is long if not storied. As you will see, there seems to be nowhere left in the world where this legume doesn't turn up, making it an excellent candidate for this blog.

As one of the earliest cultivated vegetables, chickpeas are quite ancient. According to the New World Encyclopedia: "Remains from 7,500 years ago have been found in the Middle East...[and by]...the Bronze Age chickpeas were known in Italy and Greece." In terms of their uses, as food and for their supposed "medicinal" properties, "[i]n classical Greece, they were called erébinthos and eaten as a staple, a dessert, or consumed raw when young. The Romans knew several varieties, such as venus, ram, and punic chickpeas. They were both cooked down into a broth and roasted as a snack....Ancient people also associated chickpeas with Venus because they were said to offer medical uses, such as increasing semen and milk, provoking menstruation and urine, and helping to treat kidney stones. Wild cicers were thought to be especially strong and helpful."

Apparently, research into the domestication history of chickpeas by archaeologists found that "[t]he wild version of chickpeas (Cicer reticulatum) is only found in parts of what is today southeastern Turkey and adjacent Syria, and it is likely that it was first domesticated there, about 11,000 years ago. Chickpeas were part of the culture that first developed farming on our planet, called the Pre-Pottery Neolithic period....Domesticated chickpeas (also called garbanzo beans) come in two main groups called desi ['local'/'country'] and kabuli [from Kabul in Afghanistan], but you can also find varieties in 21 different colors and several shapes....Scholars believe that the oldest variety of chickpea is the desi form; desi are small, angular, and variegated in color."

The World's Healthiest Foods (which details the many health benefits of chickpeas) states: "During the 16th century, garbanzo beans were brought to other subtropical regions of the world by both Spanish and Portuguese explorers as well as Indians who emigrated to other countries. Today, the main commercial producers of garbanzos are India, Pakistan, Turkey, Ethiopia and Mexico." As yet another fascinating horticultural article on chickpeas states: "Brought to the New World, it is now important in Mexico, Argentina, Chile, Peru and the U.S. Also important in Australia. Wild species are most abundant in Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, and Central Asia."

While the account above appears straightforward enough, when it comes to falafel (a popular Middle Eastern food made using chickpeas) and the origins thereof, much ink has been spilt. And the origin of the word "chickpea" is anything but straightforward! Even a poem has been written about the chickpea (as a metaphor for the forging of the purified human soul through various trials) by none other than the Muslim Sufi philosopher and poet Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi.

So, like the tomato and the chili pepper (both of which originated in the Americas), without which much of the cuisine of the Indian subcontinent would not exist in its current delicious form, chickpeas also originated outside of the region (in the Middle East) but is now a staple legume in many of the regional cuisines of South Asia! This ancient legume, the chickpea or garbanzo bean, has made its own quiet and deliberate way all across the world. Reading its remarkable, peripatetic history, I felt that one recipe wouldn't do justice to this splendid ingredient, so I picked four recipes to share with you: a chickpea flour based soup, Karhi, from the Punjab region of Pakistan and India; an Omani/Persian-inspired chickpea and spinach stew; a Mughlai-style chickpea and ground beef stew; and a halwa made from chickpea flour also from the Indian subcontinent. All the recipes are gluten-free, and are vegetarian except for the one which has beef (in which lamb or vegetarian "meat" can be substituted easily). I also include a simple recipe for polau/pilaf below as it is a nice accompaniment to the Karhi and the two stews.

Like the discretely splendid chickpea, in the upcoming new year, may we quietly enrich all the lives we touch and all the activities to which we set ourselves. And, in remembrance of the recent winter solstice or shab-ye-yalda (when, in the Persian tradition, the longest night is greeted with poetry in the company of family and friends sharing a special evening meal together), I'll leave you with a poem (one of mine).

Solstice

Shortest day
Longest night
Don't mourn the dark
It may help us see
   When the light blinds our eyes.

***

Punjabi Style Karhi

Karhi. Photo by Mir Elias, 2015.

[My recipe is based on this meticulous one I found online as modified by my husband's suggestions regarding what he considers are certain key spices as indicated by an asterisk below. All these ingredients should be available at your local South Asian grocery store. Also, a powerful kitchen vent is useful as are open windows when cooking with some of these ingredients such as onion, turmeric and asafoetida powder.]

Servings: 8-10
Cooking Time: ~ 1 hour

• 2 cups buttermilk
• 1 cup besan or chickpea flour
• 3 tsp turmeric or more to taste
• 1 tsp cayenne (optional)
• 3 cups water 
• 1 TBSP salt

1.  Mix the above ingredients slowly (in the case of the water and the chickpea flour) with a wire whisk and one at a time so that all lumps are dissolved and the chickpea flour and buttermilk mixture is smooth. Set aside.

• 1/4 cup mustard oil (or olive oil)
• 1 medium onion (finely chopped)
• 1/2 garlic bulb (finely chopped)
• 1 inch ginger (finely chopped)
• 2 tsp whole cumin seeds
• 1 tsp whole fenugreek seeds (optional)
• *4 tsp whole nigella or kilonji seeds
• *2 dried whole red chilies
• *3 stems curry leaves
• 2 pinches hing or asafoetida powder (optional)
• 3 tsp amchur or dried mango powder (optional for sourness if your buttermilk is not sour enough)
• 1/2 cup new potatoes (parboiled)
• Hot water (3 additional cups as needed for desired thickness)
• An additional 1/2 TBSP salt (or to taste)

1.  Parboil potatoes by cooking them until almost done in slightly salted boiling water or in the microwave. Also, put on a kettle of water to boil as you'll need it later.
2.  Heat oil over medium heat in a heavy-bottomed pan. Add the hing or asafoetida powder if using.
2.  Saute onions until translucent. Add ginger and garlic and saute for minute.
3.  Saute the red peppers, curry leaves, and nigella, fenugreek and cumin seeds (taking care not to burn any of the spices, particularly, cumin).
4.  Add the chickpea flour and buttermilk mixture (prepared above).
5.  Add the parboiled potatoes.
6.  Add water, as needed, a cup at a time to reach the desired level of thickness (like a creamy soup).
7.  Stir often but carefully to prevent sticking. (Be careful with picking up and dropping the the spoon into the pan as I ended up with little yellow dots all over my stove, which added to the post-cooking cleaning efforts.)
8.  Cook for approximately 20-30 minutes.
9.  Serve hot with bread or rice (see recipe for a pilaf below).

Omani/Persian Inspired Chickpea and Spinach Stew

Chickpeas and Spinach with Dried Limes. Photo by Mir Elias, 2015.

[This is a recipe I invented based on Iranian stews that use dried limes and greens, as well as this article on Omani cuisine where I learned that "Oman is positioned at the crossroads of the spice routes. And so for centuries, there's been a lot of interaction with traders from South Asia, East Africa, Persia, and even the Far East. So they have dishes like vegetables simmered in coconut milk with hot chilies and lime." If you just follow the recipe without the coconut milk or hot chilies, you have the Iranian version of my recipe, and if you include coconut milk and hot chilies, you have the Omani version, which I prefer due to my preference for bold yet balanced flavors.]

Servings: 6-8
Cooking Time: ~ 1 hour

• 1 large (25 oz.) can or 2-1/2 cups of cooked chickpeas
• 1 large frozen bag of spinach (thawed)
• 4 cloves of garlic
• 1 small onion (thinly sliced)
• 1 TBSP turmeric powder
• 1 tsp cayenne powder or to taste
• 1 TBSP whole cumin seeds
• 1 TBSP whole coriander seeds
• 2 small dried limes (ground into a powder)
• Chicken or vegetable stock 1/2 cup (optional, if you want your stew to have the consistency of soup)
• 2 TBSP coconut milk (optional, if using for the Omani version)
• 1-1/2 TBSP coconut oil (if using for the Omani version, otherwise use olive oil)
• 1 dried red chili (optional, if using for the Omani version)
• Salt to taste

1.  Saute onion in oil until translucent. In the meantime, thaw the spinach by heating on low heat in a microwave.
2.  Add garlic and saute for a minute.
3.  (Add dried red chili if using.)
4.  Add turmeric and cayenne powder, and coriander and cumin seeds. Saute for 2 minutes with kitchen vent (if you have one) on high.
5.  Add thawed spinach.
6.  Add stock (if using to make a soup instead of a stew) and chickpeas along with their juice.
7.  Bring to a boil, simmer for 30 minutes (add the coconut milk, if using, about half way through).
8.  Check salt and add dried lime powder before turning off heat.
9.  Serve hot with bread or rice (see recipe for a pilaf below).

Mughlai Style Chickpeas with Ground Beef

Mughlai Chickpeas with Ground Beef. Photo by Mir Elias, 2015.

[This is also my own recipe based on how the women in my family have learned to cook meat over the years. I call it "Mughlai-style" because, while this is not a Mughlai recipe, "the tastes of Mughlai cuisine vary from extremely mild to spicy, and are often associated with a distinctive aroma and the taste of ground and whole spices", which this dish certainly evokes. It's the kind of home style "Mughlai" cooking that I grew up with:-)

Servings: 4-6
Cooking Time: ~1 hour

• 1 large (25 oz.) can or 2-1/2 chickpeas
• 1 lb. ground beef (I used the free range, grass-fed variety)
• 4 cloves of garlic (finely chopped)
• 1 inch ginger (finely chopped)
• 3 bay leaves
• 1 piece of cinnamon or canela
• 8-9 green whole cardamom pods (with the ends slightly open)
• 1 small onion (finely chopped)
• 1 TBSP turmeric
• 1 tsp cayenne or to taste
• 1 TBSP ground cumin
• 1 TBSP ground coriander
• 1-1/2 TBSP coconut oil (if using) or olive oil
• 1 couple of splashes of kewra or screwpine essence (in the US, the Ahmed brand is the best available one)
• Salt to taste

1.  Saute onion until translucent with bay leaf, cinnamon, cardamom. (This is my maternal grandmother's technique, according to my mom, in order to reduce the smell of frying onions.)
2.  Add garlic and ginger saute for a minute.
3.  Add turmeric, cayenne, coriander and cumin, saute for 2 minutes with the kitchen vent (if you have one) on high or the windows open.
4.  Brown the beef.
5. Add chickpeas along with the juice from the can.
6.  Bring to a boil, and simmer for 30 minutes.
7.  Check salt before turning off heat.
8.  Add kewra, stir and cover the lid. (As soon as you do this, you'll realized why this recipe is Mughlai-style.)
9.  Serve hot with bread or rice (see recipe for a pilaf below).

Chickpea Flour or Besan Halwa

Besan or Chickpea Flour Halwa. Photo by Mir Elias, 2015.

[This is a recipe that I explored to add to my repertoire of gluten-free desserts. It's a modified version of a recipe from a fellow blogger, Prerna Singh, at Indian Simmer, and I loved this quote by her about her mom's recipe for besan ka halwa: "With my mom it was never about fancy food or use of those rare or exclusive ingredients. She would use all the basic ingredients that you can find in the pantry any day of the week and make something special out of it." One sign of the best of cooks, in my opinion, is when you learn to work with what you have and make not only the most of it, but something special and uniquely your own.]

Servings: 8-10
Cooking Time: ~1 hour

• 1 cup chickpea flour or besan
• 1/2 cup ghee or clarified butter (I swear only by the Bangladeshi kind if you can find it, otherwise, you're better off using the highest quality unsalted butter available to you)
• 1/2 cup sugar or 2/3 cup confectioner's sugar
• 1/4 cup nuts for garnish (I used chopped raw almonds only along with dried mulberries which I had in the house, but you can also use pistachios and/or cashews)
• 2 tsp cardamom powder  
• 1-1/2 tsp ground cinnamon or canela 
• 1-1/2 cup water with a little buttermilk (as I had some on hand), but you can use just water or 1-1/2 cup milk instead

1.  Heat ghee in a heavy-bottomed pan.
2.  Add besan to it and fry it until it starts changing color. When besan has turned light golden brown in color and gives off a distinct fragrant aroma, add water slowly and keep stirring the besan thoroughly so that it doesn’t form lumps.
3.  Add sugar and cardamom and cinnamon powder and blend it all together and stir until the water is fully absorbed and the halwa pulls away from the sides of the pan.
4.  Garnish it with the nuts and mulberries (optional).
5.  Serve hot or at room temperature.

***

Bangladeshi Polau/Pilaf

The Karhi and the two stews are wonderful with a little polau/pilaf. Here is my maternal grandmother's recipe via my mom all the way from Bangladesh. When I make and eat this rice, I feel equal parts joy and pain, but I hope the people who eat it will only feel the joy.

I used both Bangladeshi ghee and Bangladeshi kalijeera rice for this recipe, but you can use olive oil or butter and high quality basmati rice instead. The general proportion of uncooked rice to water for this recipe is approximately 1:2. 

Saute 1 cup rice in ghee and olive oil mixture (enough to generously coat the bottom of a nonstick pan) along with some green cardamom pods, 1 cinnamon or canela stick and a couple of bay leaves, for 10 minutes or so. Add 2 cups hot water, salt (to taste) bring to a boil, then simmer (covered with a tight seal) on low heat for 15 minutes. Add saffron before turning down the heat (optional). Garnish with lightly caramelized onions (optional). Serve hot.

Polau/Pilaf. Photo by Mir Elias, 2015.

The Ineffable Nature of Holiday Traditions and Almond Cookies

Zimtsterne/Cinnamon Star (Almond) Cookies. Photo by Mir Elias, 2014

This is the first year I noticed that people started wishing me a "nice holiday" right before Thanksgiving instead of the usual "Happy Thanksgiving" greeting. What other holiday would we all be celebrating in the United States around Thanksgiving? Why the use of the generic "holiday" in this instance? Why the sudden unease? Were people wondering whether an immigrant American like me celebrates Thanksgiving? (But, isn't Thanksgiving the quintessential American holiday in certain respects -- the holiday allegedly observed by the first immigrants to North America?) Or, had they somehow picked up on the historical baggage of bloody genocide that Thanksgiving comes with, not to mention the current animal ethics concern with the mass slaughter of rather tasteless birds on one day. I'll never know.

This is also the time of the year when acquaintances and colleagues start showing a sudden interest in what it is I celebrate (if at all) during December. Mind you, this happens every year (you'd think they'd know by know). And, every year, I've to come up with a creative way of saying that while I don't observe Christmas in the traditional sense (but, who does anyway!), I exchange gifts (more as a matter of reciprocity than anything else), put up twinkly lights and prepare festive meals around the Winter Solstice. This year I'm even signed up to volunteer during Christmas week at a cafe that provides free lunches to those in need. Do all of these count as celebrating the American holiday season that is Christmas?

In the past several years, I've even created my very own holiday tradition in December with a dear friend. This annual tradition provides the recipe for this post.

No, don't worry. This is not one of those "war on Thanksgiving" or "war on Christmas" type posts. Nor is it one lambasting political correctness, a useful tool often used ineffectively to give the impression of appearing to be inclusive, while often managing (at the same time) to give offense. No, I won't go there.

The genericization of Thanksgiving and people's unease and studied uncertainty about what it is I celebrate in December got me thinking about traditions -- Who do they belong to? How do they change over time? When is it time to abandon them? How does one create a new tradition? These are difficult questions for immigrants like me, often because recreating traditions (honoring as much of the original traditional elements as possible) often provides the only purchase we have in a new country that we'll eventually learn to call home. A special family recipe, for example, and the stories that accompany it could be just such a self-made tradition, as is the case with Jonathan Safran Foer recounting his grappling with the tradition (as a vegetarian) of his Holocaust refugee grandmother's chicken and carrots recipe in his moving vegetarian memoir Eating Animals. He writes:

"We are made of stories. I'm thinking of those Saturday afternoons at my grandmother's kitchen table, just the two of us--black bread in the glowing toaster, a humming refrigerator that couldn't be seen through its veil of family photographs. Over pumpernickel ends and Coke, she would tell me about her escape from Europe, the foods she had to eat and those she wouldn't. It was the story of her life....and I knew a vital lesson was being transmitted, even if I didn't know, as a child, what that lesson was....We are not the tellers of our stories, we are the stories themselves. If my wife and I raise our son as a vegetarian, he will not eat his great-grandmother's singular dish, will never again receive that unique and most direct expression of her love, will perhaps never think of her as the Greatest Chef Who Ever Lived. Her primal story, our family's primal story, will have to change [emphasis added]."

As the world in which we live deals with an unprecedented scale of war and mass migration of refugees, a similar concern is expressed in this thoughtful op-ed piece I read recently in Al Jazeera in the aftermath of the deadly attacks in Paris: The Hidden Meanings Behind 'our way of life': "But who are we, and what exactly is our way of life, beyond personal preferences and timeworn customs? Perhaps most urgent, how do ideas about our way of life change citizens’ willingness to welcome refugees and other new members of the community?" Advocating for a more expansive and changeable (yet sober) view of "our way of life", the author argues:

"[T]alking about [the United States as] a nation of immigrants is just one among many options that can reflect a collective commitment to a measure of openness. One might choose to speak of our way of life as members of a formerly persecuted group (e.g., Jews), members of groups formerly interned on security-based pretexts (Japanese Americans) or citizens of formerly colonizing empires. One can invoke our way of life as Muslims living in Western countries. The relevant question will be what political alliance will ring truer to constituencies at home and mobilize more support. Questions of security and of culture will inevitably be crucial in determining this, but ultimately who we are remains an open question [emphasis added]."

Refugees and immigrants, by the very fact of their "transmigratory" experiences have to recreate their traditions. Recreate, not replicate. Even those who never leave home may be forced to reimagine a tradition if the tradition no longer comports with their personal ethical values, e.g., a vegetarian eschewing eating Turkey at Thanksgiving, or sacrificing livestock animals during Eid ul-Adha, or passing on a meat-based recipe from Grandma.

In a short retrospective on the Thanksgiving tradition (as currently practiced in the United States), the Nerdwriter states: "Traditions like Thanksgiving are not natural by any means, they're invented, and at the time of their invention they [recalled] a past that wasn't really there. An imagined, constructed past that serves the purposes of the present...Holidays like these are open to revision. As Americans, Thanksgiving is ours to reframe, just as the country is. That is a responsibility for all of us, a responsibility for which I give thanks."

Even the culinary traditions that were part and parcel of the horrific slavery economy in the antebellum South are being excavated and salvaged by food journalists such as Toni Tipton-Martin to restore the vast and varied contributions made by women of African descent to the food cultures of America. If something so wondrously rich and profound as Tipton-Martin's book, The Jemima Code, can emerge from as debasing a tradition as slavery, there is hope for all traditions with a problematic history, outdated cultural referents, religious connotations to which one doesn't subscribe, or unethical practices, and so on.

When I first arrived in Philadelphia, I was lucky enough to make a friend who has remained a friend through the past, often turbulent, nine years. She's the one who introduced me to her Swiss German tradition of getting together to bake Zimtsterne or Cinnamon Star cookies for Christmas.

Photo by Mir Elias, 2014.

Cookies made out of almond flour are one of those foods that (to me) inspire eternal optimism in an ever fractured and divisive world (if you're to watch and believe traditional media, that is). Here's why:

From the Sephardic Jewish tradition in pre-Inquisition Spain: "Almendrados, which date from the 15th century or earlier, are cookies made of ground blanched almonds, lemon zest, egg and sugar. They are left out to dry for a day before baking." However, as chef and restaurateur Jose Andres says: “Many dishes didn’t belong only to one but to all — Jews, Christians and Muslims, who were living together in the important towns of Spain before the 15th century.” Janet Mendel, an American journalist who has lived in Andalucia for many years and is an expert in Spanish cooking, including having written four books about Spain's food has this to say about almendrados: "In Andalusia or Al-Andaluz, the kingdom of the Moors (Muslim Arabs and Berbers), who ruled southern Spain from the eighth to the 15th century....Andalusian cuisine was the most opulent of all of Europe, in the use of spices, herbs, almonds, rose water, orange blossoms and other exotic flavourings....While many Andalusian dishes reveal a Moorish legacy, nowhere is it so up-front as in the repertoire of sweets. Flavoured with aniseed, cinnamon, sesame, ground almonds and often bathed in honey, these delicacies are straight out of Arabian Nights." According to Sweet Treats around the World: An Encyclopedia of Food and Culture, these almendrados or "Moorish-inspired macaroon-type cookies" were most likely to be what Christopher Columbus was dunking in his horchata just before he set off for his fateful encounter with the Americas. I even found a recipe for Magreb Almond Cookies in this online Muslim "Sufi" cookbook!

Photo by Mir Elias, 2014.

I'll leave you with my friend Sonja's recipe for Zimtsterne Cinnamon Star Cookies. I don't know how an almond cookie recipe made its way to Switzerland and Germany but will hazard a guess that almonds and cinnamons would have been rare and expensive ingredients in Europe in the 17th century and, thus, served as the perfect ingredients for a special occasion (i.e., Christmas) cookie. My favorite part, aside from making them with Sonja, is that these cookies are gluten free!

The best temporary cure I know for all the unease and uncertainties and ineffabilities hinted at in this post is to do something we enjoy with a good friend or close family member or by ourselves (if we're so inclined) and bite into our favorite treat as a reminder of that good time, however momentary, however fleeting.

Go forth and recreate or reimagine your own or someone else's traditions! It's all good.

Zimtsterne or Cinnamon Star (Almond) Cookies

Makes approximately 50 cookies

• 250g powdered sugar (or 200g for a more manageable level of sweetness for those of us who are sensitive to sugar)
• 350g almond meal
• 2-1/2 tbsp. ground cinnamon
• 1 tbsp. lemon juice or 1 oz. Kirschwasser or other liqueur (optional)
• A pinch of salt
• 3 egg whites

1. Beat egg whites with a little sugar (sprinkled in small quantities a little at a time) in a clean electric, stand mixer until stiff peaks form (approximately 2 minutes) like a meringue.
2. Add the salt and lemon juice and carefully fold in to mix.
3. Set aside a tiny bowl (approximately 7 ounces) for icing.

Photo by Mir Elias, 2014.

4. Add the remaining sugar, almond meal and cinnamon to the remaining egg whites (sprinkled in small quantities a little at a time).
5. Knead into a dough using the mixer.
6. Shape into two to three balls and roll out into 1/2 inch thick flat pieces (using sugar, as needed, on your hands and on a clean kitchen counter to prevent sticking).
7. Cut out star shapes with a cookie cutter. Clean the cookie cutters as often as needed in warm water or sugar to get sharp points on the stars.

Photo by Mir Elias, 2014.

8. Spread a think layer of icing (see step 3) on each cookie carefully with toothpicks.
9. Let dry overnight or for at least 6 hours.
10. Bake in a 450F oven for 3-4 minutes at most.
11. Enjoy and, remember to share:-)

Photo by Mir Elias, 2014.

Postscript: Mine come out more like starfish, while Sonja's are perfect pointed stars:-)