Chickpeas
I love chickpea salad. When I make it, I think nothing of eating it for breakfast, lunch and supper. Mark didn’t mind it at first, but after so much exposure, he’s developed an aversion.
Feb 1st is a scheduled potluck lunch at my school. What else would I make but my beloved chickpea salad. So I walked to the Ultra Mart yesterday and bought four cans of chickpeas, two big green peppers, feta cheese and a red onion. And although I was tired, I set about chopping veggies. Mark lovingly asked if he could be of help. I asked him to open some cans of chickpeas. He opened a few and then went running out of the room from the (and I quote) “stinky, stinky chickpeas”.
As I began to strain them, I realized why they were “stinky”. One can was actually not chickpeas at all but canned lentils. I have no place in my kitchen for canned lentils! Trying to sneak into my salad! I was saddened by the lack of a fourth can of chickpeas, but I persisted and threw the salad together anyway. Luckily, the proportions of ingredients in chickpea salad are flexible.
This morning, Mark and I woke up to the glorious sound of a phone ringing far too early to even be my father. That is the sound of closed schools, ladies and gentleman. Teachers and principals set up a phone-chain and phone each other with the good news. I did a little happy dance all around the kitchen (it also involved some galloping) and then I caught a glimpse of five pounds of chickpea salad sitting expectantly on the kitchen table in the biggest glass bowl I own.
Now I am glad that I only had three cans of chickpeas.
I love chickpea salad. When I make it, I think nothing of eating it for breakfast, lunch and supper. Mark didn’t mind it at first, but after so much exposure, he’s developed an aversion.
Feb 1st is a scheduled potluck lunch at my school. What else would I make but my beloved chickpea salad. So I walked to the Ultra Mart yesterday and bought four cans of chickpeas, two big green peppers, feta cheese and a red onion. And although I was tired, I set about chopping veggies. Mark lovingly asked if he could be of help. I asked him to open some cans of chickpeas. He opened a few and then went running out of the room from the (and I quote) “stinky, stinky chickpeas”.
As I began to strain them, I realized why they were “stinky”. One can was actually not chickpeas at all but canned lentils. I have no place in my kitchen for canned lentils! Trying to sneak into my salad! I was saddened by the lack of a fourth can of chickpeas, but I persisted and threw the salad together anyway. Luckily, the proportions of ingredients in chickpea salad are flexible.
This morning, Mark and I woke up to the glorious sound of a phone ringing far too early to even be my father. That is the sound of closed schools, ladies and gentleman. Teachers and principals set up a phone-chain and phone each other with the good news. I did a little happy dance all around the kitchen (it also involved some galloping) and then I caught a glimpse of five pounds of chickpea salad sitting expectantly on the kitchen table in the biggest glass bowl I own.
Now I am glad that I only had three cans of chickpeas.
2 comments:
I wish you could send some of those chickpeas through the internet lines and out my screen. I love chickpeas... stinky stinky chickpeas.
-Mary
shit... i'm stuck with way too much broccoli salad... enough to make you sick... maybe we can trade up on monday!
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