Last summer, when my younger child joined my older child at sleepaway camp for a month for the first time, leaving us unmoored and a little restless, we made a list of restaurants we’d been meaning to try and friends we don’t see enough and took this task on like it was our job. I barely cooked once. By the end of the third week, everything hurt and we realized our template for a child-free life (going out late, cocktails on weeknights, and generally behaving despicably) was based on our age and energy level when we were last child-free, which (I’m sorry as this fact seems to upset you guys as much as it does his actual parents) was almost 15 years ago.
This year, I vowed to cook at home at least a little more for the sake of our general vitality. Plus, since it’s as hot as the surface of the sun and as humid as a swamp in NYC this July, eating decadent meals and fizzy drinks has lost, well, at least 10% of its usual luster.
But what do you cook when you don’t have your little Statler and Waldorf heckling you at the table with cantankerous opinions on what you have had the audacity to present them for dinner? Chickpeas, it turns out, and lots of zucchini. And we can’t get enough of this one.
Here, the chickpeas are braised in some broth and olive oil, with layers of onion, garlic, and thinly-sliced zucchini/summer squash, salt, and pepper flakes on top. For the first 15 minutes, we simmer it with the lid on, to soften the vegetables. For the next 30 minutes, we have the lid off but we only stir it 15 minutes before the end. At the 30 minute mark, the chickpeas are… nice! good, tasty. At 45 minutes, however, they’re heavenly, plump with all of the flavors in the pan and ready to collapse. To finish it, we stir in basil pesto, nestle torn chunks of burrata throughout, and scatter parmesan or pecorino over the top. Scoop this onto grilled hearty bread and revel, I mean, absolutely revel in the deliciousness before you.
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