I gave up my beloved allotment plot, the Circus Garden, last year, after an unfortunate accident that had left me incapacitated for several weeks. It had happened at the worst time of the year, just when I should have been out preparing the ground, sowing seeds and planting crop seedlings. As I slowly recovered from my injuries the weeds, of course, had a field day.
Once I began to feel better, and after much agonising, I decided to give up the plot. The time and effort needed to restore it to its former glory felt beyond me in my weakened state.
Instead I agreed with my wife Sara that I would take on responsibility for maintaining our garden at home (for years she had reluctantly but diligently mowed the lawn and tended the garden whilst I had been off pottering contentedly around the Circus Garden).
So, once I was fully back on my feet, I set about imposing myself on our garden. When we first moved in here, over ten years ago, I had laid the back garden to lawn, so that our children could run around, playing football, cricket, trampolining and the like. Now all but one of the children has flown the nest, so I decided it was time for a more “grown up” garden. I dug up a sizeable section of the lawn to make way for fruit and vegetable plots, which I am interspersing with bee-friendly flowers and shrubs.
Sara was delighted that I’d finally liberated her from responsibility for the garden, and for a long time she seemed incurious as to what I was actually doing out there.
It wasn’t until a few weeks before Christmas, when a consignment of raspberry canes were delivered to the house, that she finally began to realise what I was up to.
“You’re turning our garden into your allotment aren’t you?” she said, accusatorially. I held my hands up but reassured her that by the summer it would look lovely out there, with a mixture of flowers, fruit and vegetables, “like a potager garden” I told her.
Now, as the weather warms up and the buds come out, the pressure is on for me to deliver.
It was once, of course, common practice in Britain for families to grow fruit and vegetables in their gardens in this way. Now, just a few generations on, the patience and wisdom involved in sowing, reaping, weeding and harvesting are regarded as unnecessary when the supermarket shelves are always plentiful.
It’s a shame, because this is not the way they do things in other countries. In Russia, for example, it is still regarded as the norm for families to grow their own fruit and vegetables, so much so that home grown produce makes up over a third of the country’s total production of fruit and vegetables. Similarly, it has been estimated that as much as 90% of the fresh produce consumed in the Cuban capital Havana is grown in gardens and local urban farms.
It’s a shame that so many of we Brits now seem to consider ourselves above growing our own produce. Those of us who do have an allotment or a vegetable garden will know and understand the thrill of growing, preparing and eating food you have grown yourself.
It’s a liberating experience to wander through your garden or allotment plot, seeing what is ready to harvest and picking totally fresh produce (free from pesticides and other harmful chemicals) that you have carefully nurtured: infinitely more satisfying than a humdrum trip to the local store or supermarket to buy “fresh” produce that has taken days, weeks or even months from being picked to reaching the shelves.
One of the more unlikely vegetables I grow each summer is the chickpea.
I began doing so as an experiment a few years ago, each season selecting the healthiest, most productive plants to use for sowing next year’s seeds, so that now I have a stock of chickpeas that are perfectly happy growing in the temperate climate of middle England. They also happen to feature in this week’s recipe.
Whilst on holiday in Sicily last year Sara and I found a delightful vegetarian-friendly restaurant in Syracuse. As I scoured the menu my eyes quickly settled on one particular starter – chickpea soup with rosemary oil – but when I tried to order it I was told they had run out.
Hugely disappointed, I was determined to have that soup one way or another, so here is my version. I’ve no idea how it compares to the Sicilian version that I never had, but I can confirm that it tastes utterly wonderful.
You could use tinned chickpeas as a shortcut, but for me this is a dish that works best with home cooked chickpeas.
chickpea soup with rosemary oil
Ingredients
250 g dried chickpeas, soaked overnight, cooked until just tender, drained, and rinsed
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 sprig fresh rosemary
1 bay leaf
½ tsp sea salt
1.2 litre vegetable stock
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
for the rosemary oil
250 ml extra virgin olive oil
6 sprigs fresh rosemary
to garnish (optional)
roast chickpeas (follow the method in this recipe, omitting the smoked parika)
Method
1. First make the rosemary oil. Pour 250 ml olive oil into a saucepan and add the rosemary sprigs. Place over a medium to low heat. Reduce the heat to its lowest setting as soon as the oil starts to bubble. Continue to cook gently at this low setting for 15 minutes then remove from the heat and leave to cool and infuse. When cool, pour the oil through a muslin cloth or fine sieve into a suitable container, discarding the rosemary sprigs. Any oil you don’t use in this recipe can be kept for a further 2-3 weeks and can be used to add a lovely flavour to salad dressings.
2. For the soup, pour 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil into a saucepan and place over a medium heat. When the oil is hot, add the onion and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes or until it has become soft and translucent. Add the garlic and continue to cook, stirring, for a further two minutes. Next add the drained and rinsed chickpeas, stock, bay leaf, rosemary and sea salt. Bring to a simmer then reduce the heat to low, place a lid over the pan and cook for a further 30 minutes. Remove from the heat and leave to cool for 15 minutes.
3. Remove the rosemary and bay leaf from the soup then process in a blender until smooth. You will need to do this in batches.
4. Reheat the soup before serving. Ladle into bowls and top with a drizzle of the rosemary oil, and a few roasted chickpeas.
Categories: dairy free, gluten free, vegan
Tags: pesticides, supermarkets
28 replies ›
Trackbacks
- 41 Vegan Chickpea Recipes That Aren't Hummus ~ Veggie Inspired
- The Food Files - Chickpeas | Nutrition and Recipes | Critical Eating
- rocket, crispy onion and Parmesan salad - The Circus Gardener's Kitchen
I love soup, it is my comfort food no matter if it’s chicken noodle soup or mushroom cream soup – your chickpea soup looks delicious, I would love a bowl of it right now! 😊
Thank you Krešo 🙂
Chickpeas are one of my favourite ingredients. I’m going to look into whether I might be able to grow them here. And I hope you’ll do a post with photos showing how your garden is doing.
Hi Peggy. Chickpeas are well worth trying. I have found them to be pretty much trouble-free, and what a delight it is to open up each tiny pod to reveal a beautiful bright green and nutritious fresh chickpea.
I may well post photos from the garden as it develops, provided of course that it looks half decent. Steve x
can you grow chickpeas in Canada? I too love them and have only ever bought dry or canned! There’s nothing like eating food you’ve grown!
Yes you can! Although the vast bulk of the world’s chickpeas are grown in India and Pakistan, Canada is in the top ten exporters of chickpeas. Steve 🙂
That’s awesome, you learn something new every day?
I could eat soup every day of the year. This one sounds especially good…
Me too Sandra. I’m very happy with the way this one turned out. Steve x
me too! My man used to think soup was not a meal, safe to say a decade later he now thinks differently!
The goodness you can pack into soup is often better than say a pasta dish, glad you were able to change your man’s mind. 😀
As soon as we get rid of this pesky Indian summer, I’ll try it. Never thought of roasting chickpeas. That sounds like it would make a lovely snack on its own.
Yes, Mary, roast chickpeas are indeed a wondrous thing. Steve x
Really great Steve that you are growing fruits and veggies in your garden; I love to but we stay in an apartment so my “produce” is limited to green chillies, mint, coriander and some herbs in pots:)
Growing chickpeas….hats off to your patience and perseverance!
Hi Rashmi. As you yourself have shown, it’s possible to grow at least something, however limited your space, and it is such a rewarding activity. Steve 🙂
A great story. Sorry you had to suffer an accident to get you back home. For those who want to check out your Cuban reference tell ’em to get a copy of “The Power of Community: How Cuba Survived Peak Oil”
Thank you John, and thanks too for the heads up on the documentary: I will be following that up. Steve 🙂
Yum
Looks wonderful a must for me to try. I broke my wrist earlier this year and still adjusting to life, it’s hard I know and makes one revaluate. Your new space sounds equally exciting:)
Thank you Lesley. I hope your wrist is soon fully back to normal. In my case I had multiple rib fractures and it took a long time to heal. Bizarrely, since posting this recipe I’ve managed to break another rib in a very silly mishap. At least it’s only one rib this time, but apart from the discomfort it’s really frustrating, as you will know, suddenly not being able to do all the things you want to do. Steve x
Yes, it makes us slow slow down, you will get there before you know it :)x I am 90% there my only challenge now am back to driving at last… is doing a head stand and downward dog in yoga., makes one appreciate 😉 🙂
A(nother) post after my own heart! Am so with you on the examples you cite from Russia and Havana – I have read figures stating that 60% of Russia’s veg requirement is met by garden and allotments – either way, they are an inspiration and am glad to hear that The Circus Garden lives again 🙂
Thank you Katherine x
What a delightful combination of herb and legume! Definitely making this with fresh rosemary from the garden (and a tin of chickpeas, which is all I have)). I was sorry to read of your gardening woes, but glad that all is well now. Did you know that the keyhole garden is a weed-free garden? By design? That is requires no supplemental water (other than what it gets from kitchen compost) and rocks for growing fruits and greens? I’ll stop there, but if you’re ever interested in lazy gardening (that’s what I do), let me know. 😀
Hi Shannon. Thanks for the kind comments about this recipe. I am aware of the keyhole garden concept but have not seen one in action and would be fascinated to know more. That said, I am one of those strange souls who rather enjoys the process of weeding. I regard it as a form of mediation! Steve 🙂