Good Eats (1999–2012): Season 14, Episode 14 - Pantry Raid XIII: Destination Chickpea - full transcript

Honey, this deluxe
Middle Eastern odyssey
is just perfect...

Istanbul, Jerusalem, Cairo.

Yeah, key word deluxe --
it's $2,500 apiece.

Believe me, we'll just
cash in all our points and...

Yes, hello?

You--you do?

Ten days including Damascus?

That's fantastic...
Points?

Points, points, points,
points...

307,652.

Sure, I'll--I'll hold again.



You should read this...

"Discover the culture,
the people, the art, the soul

"of the oldest civilizations
on Earth."
Yeah?

Oh, Jerusalem for a week?

What's that?

No, I--I didn't realize
there was a Jerusalem, Ohio.

That's it, we're going for
the odyssey.

We'll just have to skip
birthdays for the next decade.

Halt...
In the name of food.

Who are you?
I'm the guy who's gonna save you
from wasting a pile of dough

on a dubious oversea adventure.

After all, the best way
to experience a culture
isn't by going.

It's by eating...

And I've got your Near Eastern
passport right here.



Chickpeas?
That's right, ma'am.

The chickpea is the poster food
for the entire
Eastern Mediterranean.

It is?
You bet it is.

With those babies
in your pantry,
you can wander far and wide

without ever leaving
the comfort of your home.

And of course, you'll never
run short of...



Good Eats.

Say hello to cicer arietinum --

which is technically a bean,
not a pea.

And, it is a very, very old one,

born in Turkey and Syria

about 10,000 years ago.

The bean, uh, spread,
well really to any place
with a warm, dry climate,

becoming a staple in places
like Egypt,

across the rim of North Africa,

even up into Spain.

But the real expansion
was in the other direction,

to the east, especially
down in to India.

Now although 20 different
color varieties
are cultivated world wide,

they all belong
to two main groups...

The small Desis, grown mostly
in the subcontinent,

and Kabulis,

which are grown mostly
in the Near East
and Mediterranean.

These will be the subject of
our focus today.

Now, what is in a name?

Well, the arietinum part
derives from Aries, or ram,

because if you look at it
just right,

the seed does resemble
a ram's head...

Sort of, kind of...maybe.
(sheep baa'ing)

as for the other name,

it has long been held
that the uh, cicer part

was adapted from the, uh,
family name

of the famed Roman orator
Marcus Tullius Cicero,

who, supposedly, had a wart
on his nose

the shape of a chickpea --
now let me get this straight --

your great, great, great,
great grandfather, or whatever,

actually adopted the name
Cicero because he somehow knew

that one day, one of his
descendants would have a wart

like a chickpea
on the end of his nose.

Si.
Yeah, whatever.

Unh.
Ow-ow.

Now, before we prepare
our chickpeas,

we must always sort, okay?

Any time dealing with dry
legumes, peas or beans,

I always look for small rocks
which could be swept up

by the harvesting equipment
and could severely damage

your harvesting equipment.

Since they grow in dirt,
I always give my chickpeas
a rinse,

even if I'm not planning
on soaking them.

Speaking of, like most dry
peas and beans,

dry chickpeas are hard as rocks.

Most recipes call for
softening them

either by cooking them
for hours, or by soaking
them overnight.

Why so long?

Well, it's be...
Come here.

Let's say for a minute that
this water bag is a chickpea

and the cellulose packing chips
inside are the starches within.

Now, in most culinary cases --
most --

we need to soften the outer skin
and hydrate and cook

the starches inside.

These are, in fact,
two separate operations.

All right now, when you place
a chickpea in liquid,

water doesn't just gush through
the skin all right?

It passes through a structure
called the hilum,

which is kind of like a spigot
where the seed was once

connected to the pod.

Okay, now if you just throw
this in hot cooking water,

there's a good chance that
the hot water would go inside,

swell the starches, or
gelatinize them before
the outer skin expands,

and the chickpea would
just fall apart or explode.

Soaking in cold water
gives the interior starch

time to hydrate slowly,
while the outer skin softens

and becomes more elastic.

This takes time.

Of course, if you know
how to manipulate
the time/temperature equation

you can just maybe cheat nature.

Now, if extremely creamy
chickpeas are desired,

say for a puree,
skip the soak altogether,

and just go straight into
a slow cooker.

All right, one pound of
our chickpeas,

seven cups of water.

Now if you know that you have
hard water, you may want to use

either filtered
or bottled water,

or, you can add, say,
a teaspoon of kosher salt,

which would function as
a water softener to some degree.

And, since the outer skin will
soften even more

in a slightly alkaline
environment,

we add a mere 1/4 teaspoon of
baking soda,

which also contains sodium,
which displaces magnesium
in the pectin,

or it's kind of the glue
that holds the outer skin
together.

The result should be
a chickpea that's creamy

and smooth, inside and out.

Now, run your crock on high
for 4 hours,

or, even better,
low for 8 to 9.

Now, if the final destination
is a salad or some other
application

in which the chickpeas
should remain whole, then...

a 7-quart pressure cooker

is the tool for the job.

Nine cups of water this time

to a pound of sorted,
rinsed peas,

and in this case, a teaspoon
of kosher salt,

not just for flavor
but because salt
slows the absorption of water

into the beans,
which, at 15 pounds
per square inch of pressure,

at what, 250 degrees Fahrenheit,
could blow the guys
to smithereens.

In other words, the water
moving into the beans
gets to rise

to the higher temperature
afforded by the pressure,

but the migration of the water
is slowed by the salt.

The result, fast cooking,
whole chickpeas, all right?

Now make sure that

the total amount does not
come above the fill line

placed by the manufacturer
inside the cooker.

Clamp on the lid and bring
to pressure over high heat.

When the pot starts to hiss,
or in this case,

whistle strangely,
in about 15 minutes,

drop the heat to a simmer

so that you just barely hear
the hissing,

and then set your timer
for 45 minutes.

Although most pressure cookers
allow you to open a relief valve

that goes off
like a locomotive whistle,

(hissing)

I don't like having starch-laden
water jetting around the room,

as it tends to stick
and dry on everything,

and that is why I am a fan
of the cold water method.

Just put the whole thing
in the sink and run cold water
over it

for just a couple of minutes
or until the pressure lock
releases on the handle.

You know, essentially the water
pulls the heat out of the vessel

giving you fast access
to the interior, without all
the muss, fuss, noise and drama.

Voila, pressure-cooker chickpeas
perfectly al dente

with skins intact.

Now I will consider
tossing these with my
favorite vinaigrette,

maybe some feta cheese,
crushed olives,

sliced zucchini,
maybe some artichokes,

and pickled peppers
would be delightful.

If I did that, I would have
a beautiful, delicious salad,

and it would be darn good
for me, because chickpeas
are high in fiber,

manganese, magnesium,
iron, zinc and molybdenum,

which is critical
for ridding the body of
sulfite toxin buildups.

And of course, there's a lot
of protein right in here,

although it's not
quite complete.

Keep in mind protein molecules
are constructed of smaller
building blocks

called amino acids.

Some of these our bodies
can produce,

but there are eight that
adult humans need
that we just can't make.

Namely isoleucine, leucine,

lysine, methionine,

phenylalanine,
threonine,

tryptophan, and valine.

These are the essential
amino acids

that must be
consumed in food

and of course,
meat, fish, and eggs
are all complete proteins,

as are soybeans,
the only vegetables that are.

Chickpeas, well, they're kind of
lacking in some tryptophan,

methionine, and threonine.

Luckily, we can complete
the protein equation

by marrying chickpeas
to seeds and/or nuts,

which are high in these.

Now, as far as seed options,
let's see,

we've got poppy seeds--no.

Mustard--no...sunflower--no.

Pumpkin--no...fine.

Ooh, sesame seeds.

That's good, we could just
sprinkle those right onto
the salad,

or you could reach for
another product, tahini,

a sesame seed paste
available at most mega marts,

and which often appears in...

Middle eastern specialties,
just like chickpeas.

Now, in this part of the world,

the two come together most often
in the delightfully creamy puree

called hummus, a dish quite
capable of carrying one away

to the casbah...

Wherever casbah is.

Oh, by the way, this stuff
separates, so you have to

stir it before you use it.

Although hummus can be
successfully concocted

from any cooked chickpea,

our slow cooker versions
with their super creamy interior

and soft skins
are the perfect choice.

So, drain and cool
the entire batch,

and then move one pound
of the chickpeas

to the work bowl of your
favorite food processor.

Now if we were actually
in the middle of, I don't know,

North Africa, we would respect
tradition

and grind our hummus by hand,
but we're not.

First up, 2 cloves
of garlic, minced.

Why cut the garlic first?

Because if we just dump
a whole clove in there,

the blade would chew it to bits,
releasing way too much of
the garlic heat.

By mincing it first, most of
the pieces will actually avoid
further damage.

Next, 1/3 cup of
well-stirred tahini.

There we go,
and we're going to lid up

and buzz up
for 15 to 20 seconds,

and then just scrape down
the bowl to make sure

everything is evenly processed,

and hit it for another
15 to 20.

Now we add the wet works,
1/4 cup of water

and 5 tablespoons
of lemon juice,

freshly squeezed, please.

It really does
make a difference here.

Just give that a stir
and then we're gonna process

for about another 20 seconds

to smooth out those peas.

Now the final seasoning...

Relid and this time,
just let the machine run,

and then very slowly,
drizzle in 1/4 cup

of extra virgin olive oil.

Slow is important because
essentially we are forming

a very, very thick emulsion
here.

If you just dump in all the oil,
it's not gonna happen.

And when the oil is all in,
let the machine run about
another 10 seconds.

Hmm, as you can see,
making hummus is
a transcendental experience,

capable of transporting
the diner to faraway lands

without ever having
to leave home.

Like the hat?

Now when it comes
to serving hummus, pita, of
course, is the classic,

but I also like it on, uh,
vegetables, toast, crackers,

chocolate Easter bunnies,

sometimes I even
brush my teeth with it.

As far garnish, a drizzle of
olive oil is always suitable,

but for an authentic near to
Middle Eastern finish,

consider a sprinkling of sumac,

the ground berries of a shrub
that should not, in any way,

be confused with
its American cousin,
poison sumac,

which is considered by botanists
to be the single most
toxic plant

native to the U.S.

The berries of rhus coriaria,
on the other hand,

can be dried and ground
into a spice that is both

salty and sweet,
earthy and sour,
all at the same time.

In fact, sumac is so lemony
that it was the major source
of acidity

in Arab cuisine before
the arrival of citrus

to that region.

It is easily acquired
on the internet, and although

it is not required
for hummus success,

it is a small price to pay
for full cultural immersion.

Of course, if you really want
immersion into Eastern kibble,

you're gonna have to
hit the streets.

And when you do, one please,

especially in places like
Lebanon, Israel and Jordan,

you will encounter at every
corner, balls or patties of

a ground, spiced, fried chickpea
called falafel.

Now if you remember these
as kind of beany, gooey
hushpuppies,

from your low rent college days,

we are about to erase
that memory,

if, of course, you actually
do, you know, remember college.

You know, here, you eat this --
I gotta go cook.

Your falafel odyssey begins
by soaking a pound

of sorted and rinsed
dried chickpeas,

now it's about 2 1/3 cups,
overnight in enough water
to cover by 2 inches.

Simply drain them and move
them back into a bowl --

actually it could have been
the same bowl but I like
this one --

along with some
added flavorants --

1/2 teaspoon of cayenne pepper,

1/2 teaspoon also of
freshly ground black pepper,

1 teaspoon of baking powder --
double acting,

aluminum-free would be best --

2 cloves of garlic that have
been just coarsely chopped,

doesn't have to be perfect,

2 tablespoons, approximately,
of chopped parsley leaves,

and 4 chopped scallions,
that's about 1 and 1/2 ounces

by weight.

Now, if you smell those spices,
oh, you probably can't,

I have toasted
1 teaspoon each

of whole cumin seeds
and whole coriander seeds.

See? Till they're just starting
to turn dark.

We're gonna grind those
traditionally, by hand.

Oh what am I saying, I'm not
gonna do that much work.

Here, break out
the old electric spice grinder,
that's the ticket.

I keep one of these around,
just like my coffee grinder.

Now I don't want
to turn this to powder,
just pulse a few times,

to break up those seeds, there.

If you don't smell 'em,
you haven't ground them enough.

Just toss them in
along with

2 teaspoons of kosher salt.

One, two...there.

And then toss to combine.

Time to break out the grinder.

Now, I like an old-school
hand-cranked model,

fitted with the smallest die
of the three

that originally came with
the machine.

Now, this type of device, uh,
creates a slightly chunky,

let's say rustic falafel.

If smoothness is more
to your liking, you might
want to go with

an electric grinder or even
a grinder attachment

made to go onto a stand mixer.

Either will give you a more
refined tooth if you like
that sort of thing.

Grind on.

All right, when the grinding
is done, it's time to
portion and shape --

I use a 2-inch diameter disher,
holds about 1 1/2 to 2 ounces,

just kind of pack it into
your hand and then shape it
into an oblong,

almost like you're making
sushi rice,

then line that out
onto a sheet pan
with some parchment paper.

You can hold these for about
2 hours at room temp,

or refrigerate overnight,
before frying in 2 quarts
of peanut oil

heated at 350 degrees,
in a 5-quart Dutch oven.

I would cook no more
than four or five at a time,

and it's gonna take
5 to 7 minutes,
if you monitor your heat,

to reach the state of
golden brown deliciousness.

Retrieval, well I like
just a wire spider,

but you can use a slotted spoon
if you like.

The resting place,
a sheet pan topped with
a cooling rack,

and on top of that,
just a couple layers of
paper towel,

to help wick away
the extra oil.

Then, there's nothing to do
but...

consume.

I like to eat them straight up,
like hushpuppies,

but keep in mind
falafel's also the name
of a sandwich,

composed of a flat pocket bread,
like pita, falafel,

and some kind
of salad or cabbage,
dressed with a sauce,

such as one based on
either yogurt or tahini.

It takes practice to eat
such a mighty sandwich,

but keep in mind,
chickpeas are loaded
with nutrition,

so there are worse things
in the world to practice on.

Well, we have traveled
far and wide on our
chickpea odyssey,

but perhaps you have a taste
for something more
out of the way,

more exotic, perhaps
something from Corum,
in Turkey,

where young and old alike
munch a crunchy treat
called a leblebi,

a curious dish,
with an even curiouser
traditional recipe.

Step one, build a wood fire
on stones or fire bricks.

Step two, roast the fresh
green chickpeas in
the hot coals till brown.

Step three, stash in goat hair
cloth bags for two days.

Step four, repeat steps
two and three.

Step five, spread out on fabric
to dry in a cool place
for two weeks.

Step six, moisten.

Step seven, put back
in the sacks for one day.

Then step eight,
roast one more time.

Step nine,
remove the burnt husks.

Our sane and non-tortuous
version of this insane,
tortuous dish

begins as did our falafel,
with a pound of sorted, rinsed,
dried chickpeas,

soaked overnight in enough
water to cover by 2 inches.

The next day, drain,
return to the original vessel,

and set aside.

Now, we make up our dressing,
it is a standard vinaigrette,

and when I make a vinaigrette,
I like to do so in a cocktail
shaker,

a two-sided shaker called
a Boston shaker.

I also include a secret weapon,
namely...

Two stainless steel
ball bearings...

Agents of agitation,
kind of like the little ball
inside a can of spray paint.

Now, for the software,

1/4 cup of red wine vinegar,

1 tablespoon of
good quality olive oil,

1 mere teaspoon of

smooth Dijon mustard,
that should do it,

and the same amount,
1 teaspoon, of kosher salt.

There we go.

Now, cover and shake.

Pour the vinaigrette onto
the prepped chickpeas,

and then toss to combine,
or just cover it up like that

and give it a shake.

Now these are gonna go down
onto a half sheet pan,

dressing and all,
and it is important that
you get them spread out

into a single layer...
Good.

Roast in a 400 degree oven,
retossing every 15 minutes,

until the peas are GBC,
golden brown and crunchy...

Should take an hour
to 65 minutes.

When the time is up,

remove the golden brown
and delicious chickpea nuttiness

to a heat-proof mixing bowl
of some type,

and be careful,
they are extremely hot,

and we're gonna add
the very last dose of flavor,

namely 1 teaspoon
of red wine vinegar

and 1/2 teaspoon
of kosher salt.

You could use a coarse
sea salt if you like,

that would be traditional.

Then toss to combine,
just kind of like tossing nuts.

Perfect --
oh, get that one.

Hmm, hmm...

Since I'm a Southern boy,
I like 'em out of
little paper bags,

like boiled peanuts...
go ahead, try 'em.

So, world voyagers,
I hope that we've convinced you

that although international
travel is fraught with
discomfort and danger,

as long as you've got
chickpeas in the pantry,

you'll always be close
to the exotic and distant land

known as...

See you next time.

(grunts and groans)

Front door?
Thanks.