If there were a beauty pageant for legumes, the chickpea would win Miss Congeniality. A bit dumpy, just shy of round with an oddly pointed head, the chickpea isn’t much to look at. But when judged on merits of versatility, integrity, and all-around friendliness with other ingredients, the chickpea is a total winner.

High in protein and relatively easy to grow, the chickpea has long been a staple, if not star, of cuisines across the Mediterranean, the Middle East, and Indian subcontinent. Known to the Italians as ceci and to Spanish speakers as garbanzos (a moniker so weighty, it appears to border on spoof) they are also – throughout Northern India to Afghanistan, the chana of eponymous curries, masalas, and dals. In Israel and across the Arab world, the name for chickpea doubles as the dish whose importance at the table both cultures can agree on: hummus.  

Here in the U.S., many are familiar with chickpeas only incognito as hummus, blended with lemon juice, garlic and tahini, or ground with onions and spices and deep-fried as felafel. (And I wonder how many fans can name the main ingredient.)

Still, with Americans growing more curious and adventurous, and more mindful of their health and the planet, a new generation of cookbook authors, like Yotam Ottolenghi and Priya Krishna, are shining a new light on whole chickpeas. And for good reason, we’re catching on. Baked, sautéed, roasted, fried, and frizzled, slow cooked in soups and braises, the chickpea will never turn mushy like many other beans. Immerse chickpeas for hours with wine, beef broth, and tomato paste, and they’ll never lose their tawny color, distinctive texture, and earthy, nut-butter taste. 

When a recipe calls for whole chickpeas, you have two choices: canned or dried. After a few unfortunate experiments with dried (soaking and boiling them for an “ultimate” hummus recipe, for example) I go with canned. Much better taste and texture. 

Then the question you probably never thought to ask, never mind answer: to skin or not to skin. With most dishes I don’t. But because the skins slip off in cooking liquid, I usually follow the advice of the late Italian cookbook author Marcella Hazan, and do for a clearer, prettier broth.   

True, it takes about ten minutes to go through a whole can. And really, no one will complain or even notice if you don’t. But there’s something meditative about grasping each chickpea between thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently, and flicking it— pale and naked—into a waiting bowl.  

Here’s a recipe for a soup – inspired by Marcella Hazan and many other chefs – that borders on a stew, hearty, complex, and delicious with a delightful balance between the earthiness of the chickpeas and porcini mushrooms, and the bright sweetness of the onion-carrot-celery mirepoix.  

 Ingredients

• 1-2  oz dried porcini mushrooms
• 3 cups lukewarm water
• 1 15.5 oz. can of chickpeas
• 1- 2 oz pancetta or guanciale* sliced into narrowest possible strips (about 1/3-1/2 cup)
• 2 cups chopped onion
• 1/3 cup carrot chopped fine
• 1/2 cut celery chopped fine
• 2 teaspoons tomato paste dissolved in the filtered water of the soaked mushrooms
• Kosher salt
• Black pepper, freshly ground pepper
• 3 cups beef broth (jarred “Better Than Bouillon” is perfect)
• Grilled slices of crusty artisanal bread (optional)
• Freshly grated parmigiano cheese (for the table)

Instructions: 

1. Soak the mushrooms in the lukewarm water for at least a half hour. Remove the mushrooms without disturbing the water, rinse lightly in cold water, then chop coarsely and set aside. Remove a few tablespoons of liquid from the top and mix with the tomato paste.
2. Empty the can of chickpeas into a colander and rinse under cold water. If you feel like it, skin them. (If you don’t, don’t.) Place chickpeas in a bow of fresh water.
3. Heat the olive oil in a medium sized heavy pot.  Add onion and guanciale (or pancetta ) and sauté over a medium flame. When the onion turns medium gold and the cured meat has pretty much melted, add carrot and celery.   
4. Cook until the vegetables are nicely golden-brown and tender;  Add the soaked, rinsed mushrooms, dissolved tomato paste, and remainder of the mushroom liquid. When pouring the liquid, stop short at whatever visible sediment is has formed at the bottom of the bowl.  
5. Continue cooking until nearly all the mushroom soaking liquid has boiled away. 
6. Drain chickpeas and add to the pot. Cover and cook for about 10 minutes. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add broth and cook until hot. Serve in soup bowls with parmesan cheese and (optional) bread slices grilled stovetop in a little olive oil. 

*Guanciale and pancetta are both Italian cured meats, made from different cuts of pork— guanciale from the cheek, pancetta from the belly. Unlike pancetta, guanciale is cured with herbs and spices. It’s also fattier, richer, softer and more melt-in-your-mouth flavorful.