I tend to have a lot of leftovers. I cook for my son and myself, and I never know whether he’ll happily eat what I’ve made, or stare at it and me rather suspiciously, declaring that he doesn’t want any, and may he please have a salami sandwich instead. Sometimes, if I ask, he’ll agree to try the tiniest bite, just to see what he thinks, so as not to simply reject a dish out of hand. He ate perhaps 2 millimeters of the pizza ‘scarole I made a month ago (a sort of rustic pizza stuffed with greens, olives, and anchovies), and declared that he didn’t like it, which meant I ate pizza ‘scarole for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for a week. It was delicious, but the whole endeavor to eat the food I had made specifically to avoid wasting any beautiful raw ingredients morphed into a marathon eating contest pitting my appetite and blood sugar against the pizza ‘scarole in a bloodthirsty battle to the death. I guess I won? Who can tell.
Other times, he surprises me, my adventurous boy. He dismissed on sight the artichoke lasagne I recently made, but agreed to taste a generous forkful. Much to his delight—and mine—he rather liked it, and devoured the small piece I put on his plate. Except for the artichoke. “This is the only part I don’t like, Mama. This thing,” he said, as he placed the hunk of marinated artichoke on my plate with his fork. “That’s OK. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I replied. To which he responded with the same thing he always says about my cooking: “Mama’s the best cooker in the world!” I usually respond with a thank you, but, listing some of the cooks I love and admire. Lately, I’ve decided to graciously accept a compliment when given one, particularly when my child is listening.
“Thank you, sweety. I enjoy cooking for us, and eating together.”
He declares himself full, and runs off to play or watch TV. Then comes the dance of the plate-clearing (Can’t you do it Mama? No, I’ve cleared my plate. Please clear yours. Thank you!) and hand-washing (Why do I need to wash my hands? That’s what we do, we wash our hands before and after we eat.).
I took a risk with this pasta and chickpea dish, as he has declared more than once his dislike for beans. This, despite his penchant for legumes in his toddlerhood and preschool years, and his continuing love of edamame. I’ve already eaten half of it for three warm, umami-rich meals. More for me if he won’t eat it. And there’s plenty of salami and bread.
This recipe is one of a series promoting the Greatest Tomatoes From Europe. I’m taking part in this campaign because I genuinely love canned San Marzano tomatoes from Naples, and their versatility. They’re full of flavor and aroma, and perfect for cooking Mediterranean recipes, and much more.
pasta with chickpeas and tomato sauce (essentially my riff on pasta e cece)
I used the leftover canned tomato juices and two tomatoes from the 28 ounce can of European San Marzano tomatoes I used to make shakshuka, and the fresh lasagne noodles left over from the artichoke lasagne. As you can see, I’m getting a lot of mileage from the package of aromatic lemon thyme I got from Lunardi’s.
1 shallot, minced
olive oil
1 can chickpeas, drained (15.5oz)
14 oz leftover canned tomato juices
and tomatoes (about 2 small tomatoes)
salt and pepper
1 piece parmigiano rind, about 2 square inches
2 leftover fresh lasagna noodles
lemon thyme, or thyme
parmigiano
chili flakes (optional)
- Pour a tablespoon or two of olive oil in a saucepan on medium low heat.
- When the oil is hot, sweat the shallots.
- Mix in the chickpeas and season to taste with salt and pepper.
- Pour in tomato juice and tomatoes and bring to a bubbly simmer. Add in the cheese rind.
- Simmer uncovered for 15 minutes. Taste and correct seasoning.
- Chop the lasagne noodles into bite-size pieces and add them to the saucepan.
- Cover, and simmer on low heat for 5 minutes.
- Remove cover, stir, and see if the pasta is ready. If not, add 1 cup water, cover, and simmer for another 20 minutes. (My lasagne noodles were quite thick.)
- Run your thumb and forefinger down a few thyme twigs over the saucepan. Taste and correct seasoning.
- Grate as much parmigiano or pecorino as you like over the top and mix it in. Serve with a drizzle of olive oil, more cheese, and even a small ball of mozzarella or two on top, or on the side.
