Unlike one of my, ahem, less sophisticated colleagues, I look forward all year to the wild garlic/leek crop. After all, ramps are an exceptional addition to any meal; last weekend I ate some form of them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. So this morning I found myself at the farmer's market eagerly buying up 5 more bunches before their very short season ends. As the farmer handed over my change, I asked for a receipt (this was a work-related purchase, of course). Asking for a receipt at a farmer's market is a red flag, and she cocked her head slightly to the left, "Where are you from?" "Gourmet Magazine," I said. Tipping her sunglasses forward, she lowered her voice, "Wanna see something cool?" Obviously, that's a question to which you can't say no. (Especially when it's asked by the same woman who sells strawberries to Mario Batali in the summer.)
Pointing to a crate of yellowish-green pods that was tucked away in her van, she smiled. "Can you tell me what these are?" I took a pod and felt it in my hand. It was lighter than it looked. I peeled back the skin and found a single brain-shaped pea. Of course, I popped it in my mouth. I knew right away: It was a fresh chickpea—awesome. I bought 2 pounds and started thinking about dinner. Back at home the prep time took longer than I could have dreamed. Each pod contains only 1 to 2 chickpeas. It took me almost 20 minutes to peel enough for two servings. But the labor of peeling is easily offset by the ease of cooking. Just a quick sauté in some olive oil, followed by some chopped proscuitto, fresh mint and butter. It was like tasting spring. The chickpeas filled my mouth with the feeling of pale green, and I knew I'd be back to the farmer's market in search of more. Next time I'll just have to set aside more time to peel.
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