Hello, welcome to newsletter no. 9. Thank you for taking the time to be here again this week, and if it’s your first time here, welcome!
If you’re the kind of soul that loves good commentary, ideas and inspiration concerning the world of baking, including its more esoteric bits and pieces, then you’re in the right place. Here we explore such things with a resourceful approach that aims to champion flavour and wholesome, seasonal ingredients.
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If your interest extends deeper and you’re an ambitious overachiever with a thirst for knowledge that plagues an overzealous and obsessive mind, consider upgrading your subscription to receive the newsletter's ‘Extra Credit’ portion.
I pledged to keep up with this newsletter each week, no matter what, and so far, it’s kept me on my toes. But, of course, anything worth doing requires some effort. The trade-off that comes with imposter syndrome and writer’s block is the eventual release and buoyant feeling of levity in the mind when you finally manage to articulate something.
The mental and physical struggle was real this week, and after dodging it for three years, it finally got me! I was dragged asunder by the wicked virus that will define the 2020s and ruin all pleasurable organoleptic qualities of food and drink for the duration of its habitation within one’s body. (Indeed, it could continue to ruin it for months after, but I am trying not to think about that right now. )
Needless to say, this week has featured zero baking-based exploits, so instead, I bring you my go-to recipe for a magical pot of beans that will save and sustain. In addition, subscribers to the Extra Credit portion will find a bonus recipe for a bright and zesty Chermoula. This herb-heavy, flavour-packed condiment upgrades soups, stews and sandwiches and especially suits bean-based meals and represents everything I want to taste but can not taste right now.
Beans, peas and legumes are the yang to cereal crop yins, a vital part of the farming year and fundamental to crop rotation. It is hard to overstate their benefit to farming systems, and they are just about as sustainable as any crop can be.
When used in arable crop rotation, the crop that follows legumes will benefit from the nitrogen left in the soil; such is their capacity to fix atmospheric nitrogen. As the old legume roots break down, nitrogen is released into the soil, offsetting the need to rely on artificial inputs. A big win not only environmentally but also economically, reducing input costs.
They provide quality grazing for livestock and improve soil health, which is essential for producing high-quality cereal crops. Their root structure reduces the density of soils, and their ability to form symbiotic relationships with fungi and bacteria within soil aid in nutrient exchange.
If you can find a good supplier of dried beans and pulses, support them and stock up your pantry. Here in the UK, that means Hodmedods, pioneers in working with farmers to create a market for an ever-increasing variety of beans, lentils and pulses; they are dedicated to preserving the identity of Britain’s original pulses and occasionally have unique and rare varieties that have fallen out of favour or have become unviable or challenging to grow.
The following recipe can be used with any dry bean variety, such as chickpeas, haricot, butter or borlotti. I usually make it with Chickpeas for something that tastes like Chicken broth minus the chicken. A big pan simmering away for a couple of hours will yield a rich and flavourful stock that makes an excellent base for a brothy soup and enough cooked chickpeas to make a week’s worth of meals.
Chickpea Broth
Ingredients
(Makes a soul-sustaining amount)
500g dried chickpeas (soaked overnight, drained)
2-3 litres of water (enough to generously cover the soaked chickpeas)
1 large carrot (scrubbed and roughly chopped into chunks)
1 large onion or 3 banana shallots (peeled and roughly quartered)
2 sticks of celery (chopped into four chunks)
4 large garlic cloves (peeled but left whole)
1tsp peppercorns
2 good pinches of sea salt
3 strips of lemon peel
60ml extra virgin olive oil (I believe in the good stuff here)
Sprig of thyme or rosemary (optional)
Place the soaked, drained chickpeas in a large stock pot. Cover with water and add the remaining ingredients.
Cover with a lid and bring to a boil; reduce to a simmer and set the lid ajar a little.
Allow the pot to simmer until the chickpeas are tender; this can take 2-3 hours. Top up the pot with water if needed.
This can be done in a pressure cooker set to high for 1.5 hours.
Once the chickpeas are tender, they can be lifted from the liquor and used in your favourite recipes. I always make a batch of hummus with 300g or so; the remainder goes to make chickpea bolognese, a chilli, curry or stew. This leaves enough cooked chickpeas to freeze and call on in the coming weeks.
The remaining broth is life-affirming, and as I cook with it over the following days, it intensifies in flavour like a never-ending elixir. Depending upon how long you simmer the pot and the variety and quality of your beans, you will have something with varying concentrations, so taste and adjust to your liking.
My favourite nourishing soup involves taking the broth and some of the cooked carrot, celery and onion petals, adding two large fresh chopped tomatoes and the finely chopped stems from a bunch of chard and simmering until the stems are tender. Add back a cup full of the cooked chickpeas and the sliced leaves from the chard, and warm through to wilt. Serve with a grating of parm and thick wedges of buttered bread for dipping.