I am not an influencer

But you should totally make my version of Pasta e Ceci

Today I would like to share a recipe. However, there will be no “jump to recipe” button because you need to read ALL OF THESE IMPORTANT WORDS.

I am a late adopter. I am the opposite of avantgarde or an influencer. I am the post-garde. I’m post-ubiquity, anti-zeitgeist. For example, I’m not an Apple person. Steve Jobs interested me, what with his all-black duds and pared back design, but those nerds queuing up for the latest iPhone - are you kidding? I’ll wait five years and then I’ll buy a Samsung, thank you.

I was late to smartphones. There’s nothing wrong with my Nokia flip phone, I would say, fists raised to the sky. Why do I need a phone that can take photos when I already have a camera? Why do I want the internet on my phone when I have a laptop? Why do I need email on my phone… You get the idea. It’s not that I don’t care about new things, it’s just that I am a contrarian. The kind of pitiful contrarian who looks at the Mona Lisa from the edge of the room, and when the cab driver asks if I want to go to see the Eiffel Tower, I said, nah, I can see it from this window, thanks. Is everyone making one-pot spaghetti during the pandemic? Not me, man. I’ll eventually make one-pot spaghetti, reluctantly, and I’ll love it. After all, I do love my Android.

That’s a long way of saying that when I was searching for dinner ideas the other night, I came across a recipe by Victoria Granof for Pasta e Ceci (Pasta and chickpeas) that went viral.¹ I’m a few years late to it, so here’s how I stumbled upon it.

I was home alone. Jeff’s at a men’s retreat this week. I Googled (actually I Duck Duck Go. No ads!) “What to cook when your fridge is empty."

Naturally I was drawn to the Bon Appetit article, ‘15 Staple Recipes the BA Staff Turns to When There’s Nothing in the Fridge’.² That said, I do like to consult multiple websites when I’m searching for something as important as dinner for one, so I clicked on both the Smitten Kitten and Food52 articles, because I like to browse before I commit.

In my day-to-day, I’m not so cautious. Like when I met Jeff. I was living in Eugene, Oregon in 1993-94, diligently working on my post-grad in languages at the University of Oregon. We met at a café (Sandino’s Fonda, I have a t-shirt), hung out for three weeks, dated for four days, of which we broke up for two, we cried a lot during those two lost days, holding hands over a table at Sandino’s, and finally we said to each other, let's just get married. That was 1993, and we’re still together, despite ignoring all the things parents say to their kids when making important decisions – take your time, don’t jump, what’s the rush? Well, I have several psychiatric diagnoses, and all I know how to do is jump.

However, when it comes to unearthing just the right recipe that most closely meets my need for something to cook when the fridge is empty, I require a bunch of open tabs. It’s a hunt, because there is always the perfect recipe out there. The perfect husband, or wife, not so much. I acknowledge my good fortune and timing in both.

Anyway, I was scrolling though Bon Appetit’s list when I spied this recipe: Rigatoni with Sausage, Beans, and Greens. Honestly, BA staff, if I had kale, beans or sausage in my fridge, would I be trawling through lists of what to cook when your fridge is empty?

Honestly, I got so frustrated with these ridiculous recipes and was about to open the Uber Eats app when I flicked to the Food 52 tab and my eyes landed on the aforementioned Pasta e Ceci recipe and thought, well that’s more like it. I have mounds of pasta, I have canned beans, I’m Italian so of course I have a tube of Mutti tomato paste in the fridge, and garlic, is there any doubt?

I try to avoid unnecessary tears, so while Victoria’s version is vegan, mine is not. This Sicilian girl has a multitude of soft spots for cheese. I was vegetarian for 17 years, starting with my first year of anorexia at 17. During my most provocative and annoying vegetarian era, I became vegan for a few months, and so I wanted to die. Ditching cheese was just unbearable. I am so much of a cheese grater that I grate it on everything, even a steaming bowl of spaghetti vongole. Of course I know the rule. But I have no shame about it. I will look you in the eye while you scoff and I grate, because I know I’m right.

I headed to the kitchen and gathered my ingredients. No canned chickpeas, so I used cannellini beans instead - you could use any beans. I spied a jar of Bippi Italian style chilli in oil and replaced the dry chilli. To serve, I grated Parmigiano and (a little of my skin) all over it to avoid sadness.

Our food is not posh. Italian chef, Gennaro Cotaldo calls it cucina povera (the poor kitchen). If I ever called our food cucina povera, my mother would toss a wooden spoon and a shoe at my head. We were not poor, she would shriek (we were).

What’s lovely about this Pasta e Ceci dish is that it marries so many of the influences that have whipped through Sicily, like the Greeks (olives, almonds, broad beans, chickpeas, fish and wheat); Spanish (peppers, tomatoes, onions, garlic, zucchini, potatoes); Arabs (sugar, citrus, pine nuts, dried fruit, cinnamon and nutmeg), the Normans (meat), Jews (artichokes, spleen sandwiches).³

That reminds me, when I was in Palermo last year, I took a home cooking class. You know the ones, you’re in a small group and head to the local market, the guide shows you the wild and wacky local ingredients, then you go back to his and cook what you purchased. And it made me think, I could do this. I studied at a respected culinary school. I can cook. I love cooking. And that brings me to my little fantasy life. I see a sprawling stone farmhouse in Southeast Sicily, twenty minutes from the Mediterranean, 40 minutes from the very active Mount Etna, which creates the perfect environment for our Nero D’Avola wine. Chickens with cute names, like Bernadette or Mavis, cluck and forage, the cats purr from the terrace, the dogs greet our visitors who travel through on their way to Siracusa and Taormina, and we make orange marmalade from fruit picked in our orchard, almond milk, [6] crispy and chewy focaccia, and lemon granita from our organic lemons. Jeff is painting with a few guests in his studio. Family members come and visit and we meet around the fire at, slow-roast artichokes in the ashes, and listen to stories, music and, most important of all, the silence.

In this life, on this night, all alone, I looked up what to cook when there is nothing in the fridge, saw Victoria Granof’s recipe for Pasta e Ceci, I got off my ass and cooked.

Anyway, it’s never too late to try a viral recipe, so here it is, because I know that’s what you came for.

Jo’s Pasta e Ceci

I added corn because these sweet pops of goodness are vegetables

Ingredients for 1 (really, wouldn’t it be easier if all recipes were for one and then you just multiply as needed… I should trademark that idea)

• 3 cloves of garlic, peeled and sliced, or crushed or minced. We don’t need such rules.

• 1/2 a can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed (use any other beans if you have nothing else. Try it. It won’t be bad but you might just try it this time and know it will always be better with chickpeas)

• 3 tablespoons good tomato paste (I use Mutti because I’m a snob)

• 1/2 cup uncooked ditalini pasta (I used conchiglini - little shells)

• 4 tablespoons of the best extra-virgin olive oil you have (I have many, for different purposes, but I used my Mount Zero Frantoio for this)

• Some salt (I’m on the kosher salt bandwagon) - see note below

• Enough boiling water to cover everything plus around 5cm (2 inches)

• Crushed red pepper flakes (I used the Italian chilli in oil that I mentioned earlier)

• Freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano or Grano Padano (or just use the best you can afford)

• Directions:

Heat the oil and when it starts to glisten add garlic, stirring until it’s light brown. Add tomato paste and fry off, stirring, for around 30 seconds. Add chickpeas, pasta, and water, stirring to deglaze the pot. Simmer until the pasta is cooked (please don’t wing it or test every minute. I use a timer. Whatever the packet says, plus 1-2 minutes. Italian al dente is too al dente for me.)

In terms of seasoning, I’m an over salter, and I’ve started salting food towards the end of cooking - not things like baked items, but certainly soups and sauces. I find that the savouriness of the ingredients comes to the fore during the cook, so if I add salt early, I may overdo it. And I’m not a fan of cooking food without salt so it can be added at the table. Firstly, what table? Secondly, unless you have a medical condition, I cooked so I get to decide. It’s just the way it is. Anyway, I can’t tell you how much to use. Taste it. It can take salt, this recipe, but remember you’re going to grate salty cheese on it later.

Serve with grated cheese, a splosh of olive oil, more chilli if you want.

Post dinner update: A sprinkling of chopped flat-leaf parsley would have been a nice addition. If you only have access to curly parsley, forget about it, it has no business on Italian food. I’m not sorry. Chickpeas would have been better, but the cannellini worked just fine.

You could make this healthier by finely dicing zucchini and adding it after the garlic, my mum puts carrot and cauliflower in her version of pasta e ceci. As long as you cook the veg well, not until mush but a little soft because it will still keep cooking once you add the pasta and water.

In a pinch, if you don’t have tomato paste you could totally use a chopped up fresh tomato or 1-2 peeled canned tomatoes. It won’t be as rich but it’s closer to how mum makes it.

This took less than 20 minutes from getting off the couch and cooking, to getting back on the couch and eating. If you’re not an experienced cook, it might take 25-30 minutes. And that’s faster than Uber Eats and cost hardly anything and is fucking delicious.

1. 1. https://food52.com/recipes/66790-victoria-granof-s-pasta-con-ceci
I also learned that Victoria spends some of her time in Taormina, Sicily.

2. 2. https://www.bonappetit.com/gallery/nothing-in-fridge-recipes

3. While Jewish Sicilians didn’t eat offal, they did eat the rest of the animal, and the rest of us poor catholics were happy to take their offcuts. I have tasted spleen. Let’s leave it at that.