{"id":1700,"date":"2005-12-04T20:35:00","date_gmt":"2005-12-04T20:35:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2005\/12\/04\/plain-jane-with-chickpeas"},"modified":"2015-09-24T03:54:12","modified_gmt":"2015-09-24T03:54:12","slug":"plain-jane-with-chickpeas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2005\/12\/plain-jane-with-chickpeas\/","title":{"rendered":"Plain Jane, with chickpeas"},"content":{"rendered":"
Peanut butter on toast. A soft-boiled egg with salt and pepper. Butternut squash boiled in cider and mashed. A carrot dunked in lemon-tahini dressing. A cold apple, cored and cut into sixths. Spaghetti squash with sea salt. A glass of milk and a pile of graham crackers. Three-quarters of my diet looks and sounds like something you\u2019d find on the tray of a high chair, or at snack time in preschool<\/strong>. I\u2019m totally blowing my cover, I know. There\u2019s much to be said\u2014and written\u2014for complexity, for nuanced flavors and saucy, sophisticated stuff, but dear reader, woman does not live on intricately crafted dishes alone. I love my salt cod tart<\/a>s and my souffl\u00e9<\/a>s, my hand-rolled pasta<\/a>s and panade<\/a>s, but plain, uncomplicated Jane<\/strong> is also pretty in her own way. Give me a handful of Newman\u2019s arrowroot alphabet cookies<\/a> and I\u2019ll play contentedly for hours.<\/p>\n Daily life may not be photogenic, and no one needs instructions for putting peanut butter on bread, but I\u2019ve been woefully remiss in giving good, gritty, everyday grub<\/strong> its due. Some dishes are quiet; they don\u2019t sit up and tell stories begging to be written and retold. Instead, they get under our skin and into our kitchens in other ways, namely through outright, all-out, drag-down deliciousness. Take, for example, my favorite spin on the beans-\u2018n-greens genre, a dish I\u2019ve made no fewer than four times in as many weeks: braised winter greens with chickpeas, onions, and garlic<\/strong>.<\/p>\n Braised Winter Greens with Chickpeas, Onions, and Garlic<\/strong>
These days, most of us have eaten our fill of wilted greens, whether in a salad or as a ubiquitous restaurant side dish, saut\u00e9ed with olive oil and lemon. But cooked more slowly, braised with only a few clinging drops of liquid and a couple of aromatics, winter greens arrive at the table a different dish entirely, one I\u2019m hard put to put down. Longer, gentler cooking brings out a low, earthy sweetness<\/strong> in chard, collards, or kale, an uncanny flavor that plays well with other things grown close to the ground<\/strong>. The coarse, dark leaves slowly melt into a tangle with onion, garlic, and olive oil, handily trapping nutty, sweet chickpeas onto the fork. It\u2019s a dish perfectly calibrated in its simplicity<\/strong>: a handful of common, everyday ingredients treated uncommonly well, with no sauces or emulsions, no garnish or glitter, no adornments or adult-rated appointments. And for me and Plain Jane, it\u2019s happily so.<\/p>\n
Adapted from Fresh from the Farmers\u2019 Market<\/em>, by Janet Fletcher<\/p>\n<\/a>This dish sounds so commonplace that I\u2019ve been hesitant to write about it, but its flavors are so unusually well-balanced that I don\u2019t want to keep it to myself. It would be a delicious side for sausages, roasted pork, or roasted chicken, and it would make a welcome bed for a poached egg. Most often, though, I take it as a perfectly plain, perfectly satisfying main dish, with fruit, cheese, and bread to make a hearty meal. It\u2019s ideal for these mid-holiday times, when we find ourselves otherwise surrounded by cookies and cakes and heavy-handed spicing. <\/p>\n