Chick pea and pasta soup

Chickpea and pasta soup

“Chick pea and pasta soup is my favourite soup of all” (Nigella, p89).

After 6 months of a diet-enforced sabbatical, I am now back and ready to pick up my culinary journey where I left off. During the last 6 months a lot has changed for me, and whilst this blog was never intended as an online diary, I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t offer at least some – however rudimentary - update. I will start with the diet/weight issue, which was the reason behind this vacation in the first place. I started the LighterLife diet on 29th February, weighing 15 ½ stones – at just 5 ft 4 – with a dress size of 18-20 and a BMI which classified me as obese class II. 6 months (ish) later, I weigh 10 stones exactly with a “normal” BMI and now easily pull off wearing a svelte size 10-12. Whilst I don’t wish to wax philosophical, I have learned a great deal. Not only about such basic things as nutrition and calories, but also about some of the reasons why I overate to the extent that I (shamefully) did. Needless to say, that whilst this blog will indeed return (and how!), it will form only a small part of a much healthier eating regime. Indeed, I make no apology for the fact that I am going to cook from HTE and therefore update my blog, only once a week from now on, instead of the more usual (and calorific!) twice or even three times a week. But that’s enough of that. Certainly, I have heard and thought enough about weight loss to last me a lifetime. Of course, pound-shedding isn’t the only change which has occurred in the last 6 months. In March I attended my first job interview in Buckinghamshire and found out exactly less than 24 hours later that I had got the job as a class teacher teaching year 2! I have since finished my PGCE (with a Distinction no less!) and Christopher and I have finally began to tentatively settle into our new house in Buckinghamshire; a far cry from the sprawling countryside and gloomy moorland of Devon. Christopher – entrepreneur that he is – already has a new job working with cars and in July I went in for the final 3 weeks of term at my new school and am now chomping at the bit to begin formally in September. I suppose the feeling of awe regarding the fact that in a few short weeks, for the first time I am going to be solely (well....) responsible for the education of 30 children, must be unparalleled. I say this, but can only imagine, having never been pregnant, and therefore never before hit with that enormous sense of responsibility. Of course, a new house in a new area means a new kitchen and let me tell you that this is by far the nicest that I have ever cooked in. For one thing, it has a gas (and not an electric) hob and for another it has a fan-assisted oven. Furthermore, the house has a lovely medium-sized garden (a luxury that was denied us by our first miniscule second-floor flat). Do, in that case, expect to read about optimistically sprightly outdoor meals and barbeques in what passes for summer here in the UK! Other than all of that weight-job-home related drama that is the fabric of everyday life, things are ticking over as usual. Christopher and I are still together, going strong and he has been absolutely supportive and wholly gorgeous as per usual over all of the afore-mentioned changes. I think he is rather torn between red-blooded appreciation of my new sylphlike physique and the need to feast together as a couple; setting the world to rights over a bottle of wine! We do have one other small (in stature, not importance) addition to our happy family. In our second week in the new house we “adopted” a stray cat from the Blue Cross; a gorgeous tortoiseshell and white called Kizzy (affectionately nicknamed “bump” – for obvious reasons!). She is an absolutely affectionate and charming addition to our house and has rather landed on her feet. From the pathetic and bedraggled doe-eyed urchin which presented itself to us, she is now a glossy, sleek housecat who lords it over any pigeon that dares land (innocently and unsuspectingly) in our garden.
So, onto the business at hand. It is rather fitting that this second start falls at the start of a new section. The last section that I cooked from for this blog was the “chicken liver” section, and I had actually completed it. That brings me – nicely and neatly – to a new section; the “chickpea” section. Having said that, I have already cooked two recipes from this section before – the chicken and chickpea tagine (see the chicken section) and the cherried and chickpea’d couscous (and see the cherries section). I have looked over both of those recipes, but in truth my memory hardly needed the jolt. I remember those recipes very well indeed and absolutely adored both of them. The Moroccan spiciness and voluptuousness of that tagine with its deep, almost exotic juices blew me away and I adored the cherried couscous; the starchy and swollen buttery grain, the smooth and waxy pine nuts and the sweet sharpness of the dried cherries just worked so intensely and yet so simply and perfectly well together. If the remaining recipes in the section are anything as delicious as their cohorts, then I am very much looking forward to this section. That said, I hardly need the prior experience to facilitate my enthusiasm. I love chickpeas – those starchy, buttery and nutty little carbohydrates have always featured pretty highly on any foodie wish list that I may compile. This is probably – although not completely, innate preferences do come into it, I’m sure – because we had them at home when I was growing up. It would be a rare week indeed where there could not be found a bowl of chickpeas soaking for some culinary concoction or another. Specifically, I remember them as an integral part of a stew that my dad used to make called – affectionately – “beany and dumplings” and also ground as part of vegetarian burgers-cum-patties, later to be crumbed and fried. However, chickpeas were not – in our house – reserved for a starring special appearance in some elaborately concocted dish or another, but rather they were just routinely soaked and used in pretty much anything; be it a grainy, dense salad made with pulses or as part of a nourishing vegetable stew. Without sounding too precious, they were part of the rich culinary fabric of my childhood.
This is partly why I am so much looking forward to making and eating this soup. There are other reasons of course. The recipe itself looks absolutely lovely and it should probably go without saying that I like all of the ingredients that feature in this soup. I have missed the starchy golden swell of carbohydrates a great deal whilst on this diet and do especially like pasta. Another reason which makes me slather impatiently over the recipe in HTE is the fact that Nigella herself obviously has a great fondness for it. Indeed, the above quote pays testament to that. She also mentions that she cooks this soup so often at home – for family, friends and guests – that she no longer follows the recipe. I got into the habit – in the last few months of my blog – of googling (if that is a verb, although I suppose in the digital age, if it is not now, then it soon will be) the next recipe, to see if anyone else had cooked it and had any words of wisdom to impart to future aspiring chefs. This is a habit which is apparently re-establishing itself, because upon googling this recipe I came up with one of those internet gems. In January 2006, The Observer Food Monthly, asked a number of chefs/celebrity cooks etc to nominate their favourite dishes under a number of categories – poultry, shellfish, desserts etc – and Nigella was asked to recommend her favourite soup, which was this – Anna del Conte’s chickpea and pasta soup. This is what she says about the recipe, and I am sure that anyone who reads HTE as religiously and with such a devotional fascination as me will be interested. “This recipe for chickpea and pasta soup comes from one of my favourite books, which, shamefully, is out of print. This is the recipe I cook when skies are grey or spirits are down, and I borrowed it gratefully in my first book, How to Eat. Anna del Conte is something of a mentor of mine: her books inspire, as does she. Long before I started as a food writer, I went to one of her demonstrations and her kindness, scholarliness and plain good taste made me just a little bit, an important bit, more confident in the kitchen.” I think that says it all really. I think that is it also important to consider that the soups in HTE have been some of the most delicious and successful meals that I have made so far for this blog. Looking at the list, I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that my favourite soup so far has been the lentil and chestnut soup (see “chestnut” section). I adored that soup and will make it again. However, that is not to say that there haven’t been other ecstatic culinary experiences. I also loved the black bean soup, the butternut and pasta soup and the cream of chicken soup. I do admit however that there were some that perhaps I wasn’t so absolutely definite about – the beetroot soup and the chilli beef noodle soup – (although funny what 6 months of living on 530 kcal per day does to make one long for what was once thought of as only a muted success) - and others that I utterly detested – the consommé and the Italian broth (and not even a years worth of dieting on half the calories could ever cause me to re-learn that aversion). I am fully confident of the fact that the chickpea and pasta soup will belong resolutely in the former camp – and perhaps become a viable contender for the top soup.
As per Nigella’s serving suggestions on p91 of HTE, I am going to ensure that I have the following out – on the table – with the soup; a good bottle of EVOO (extra virgin olive oil), a bottle of chilli oil and a block of parmesan with requisite grater. Chris was off from work the other day and we were exploring our new home town when I happened upon a really lovely and suitably busy Italian deli called Roots. Whilst there, and I suppose with this meal in mind, I brought a block of what can only be described as the most heavenly smelling Parmigiano-Reggiano - utterly sweet, salty and nutty with a fantastic texture and a million times divorced from anything one may find at a supermarket – and a bottle of really good Italian EVOO which will be – would financially have to be – reserved for salad dressing and soup etc drizzling only! I was also advised – after explaining the meal in great detail – as to a suitable bottle of wine for the evening, which is to be an Italian crisp white Pecorino. Please don’t expect me to go to all this effort in the normal running of things. It would cause emotional and financial ruin before anything else, but I knew this would be the first meal for the blog in a long time – a monumental occasion surely – and wanted to mark it somehow. Similarly, I wanted to stretch the evening out, to languish over each course, but didn’t want to push for a pudding, so decided that after the soup I would simply bring out a salad with cheese and bread. The salad itself won’t be anything fancy – a simple mixture of crunchy, bitter chicory and some mixed “designer” leaves (as Nigella is so fond of calling them). The cheese is a lovely taleggio and I hope you don’t think that I’ve gone too extravagantly overboard when I admit to the fact that I am going to try my hand at making my own bread. Well, wholemeal rolls. Not that this is by way of an apology, but it is the summer holidays at the moment and I haven’t made my own bread since the wholly successful experience of baking Nigella’s basic bread recipe. Besides, when I left my first teaching practice they gave me a baking book, complete with a section on bread, and I really do fancy getting into the bread-making groove. I had a flick through the book and the recipe for “quick wholemeal rolls” really caught my eye. For one thing, the recipe uses dried yeast not fresh, which is much easier to get hold of, for another they are baked – not in any specialist loaf tin, but in a 12-bun muffin tin (which I already possess) and for yet another they are purportedly quick, and easy, which makes them much less scary for a novice baker, such as myself. If this perks anyone else’s interest, then please feel free to email me (

newnigella@hotmail.co.uk) and I would be more than happy to mail you the recipe. If enough people mail me, then I will add the recipe to this blog.
In terms of quantities, even though I silently vowed to myself that I was going to massively downscale all quantities from now on, I am only halving quantities (originally intended for 8), but there is a sensible reason for this. My parents are visiting on Sunday from Devon for the first time, and even though I am cooking dinner for them (Nigella’s beef and beans with pasta and please do check on that post in the coming days (from the beef section) as I will change the title picture. For one thing, I hate that rubbish picture I took and quite fancy replacing it, although the pictures of the method will stay the same. I can’t be bothered to replace them all and besides, a bit of initial novice camera work is all part of the process. We all have to start somewhere, after all!), I can’t stretch to cooking both lunch and dinner and it would be so handy to just warm some soup through on the hob for the weary travellers!

Ingredients: There is nothing to worry about in terms of locating any specialist ingredients for this meal. Most – if not all of them – are available from any supermarket I would have thought. Nigella hardly makes a big deal about the stock required for this recipe. You could use white wine, meat or vegetable stock. I have rather fallen in love with Nigella’s favourite Marigold bouillon powder, but in that case she suggests choosing the low-salt version. I have found that supermarkets which stock the usual Marigold bouillon powder, tend also to stock the low-salt version - the latter comes in a purple, rather than the usual red, tub (see photo) – usually (for some reason) in the gluten-free section. In terms of the requisite “small tubular pasta,” I opted for ditalini as suggested in the ingredients list. The only ingredient that I may have dedicated any preoccupying thought towards whatsoever, would have been the good EVOO for necessary drizzling, but as I adumbrated above, I found a wonderful bottle in a local deli. A further specialist ingredient – if indeed it can be classified as such – is a muslin bag or suchlike to tie the rosemary sprigs. To be frank though, you could use a pop sock or a tea-infuser in its place. I do, however, have a huge piece of cheesecloth (brought from a soft-furnishings department store) left over from the recipe for consommé, where I strained the hateful broth through said muslin to remove all those slimy pieces of over-boiled onion and leek etc.

Price: This is actually very cheap to make. The chick peas, rosemary, garlic, EVOO (for the soup, not the posh one for drizzling), fresh tomatoes, pasta and parsley totalled just £5.78. There were some ingredients that I didn’t need however, namely bicarbonate of soda, flour, salt (the above for the chickpea tenderising paste), vegetable stock and chilli oil. I’m not factoring in – here – my personal serving accompaniments, such as the special EVOO, parmesan, bread, salad and cheese. What would be the point? You don’t have to eat the soup with any of the above of course.




(The low-salt Marigold bouillon powder)



(Soaking the chick peas in water and that tenderising paste)

(My homespun rosemary bundle)

Method: As this soup appears in the “cooking in advance” chapter and Nigella believes that it is a rare soup which doesn’t improve with the time to mellow; it should come as no surprise that I actually started preparing this during my lazy Saturday afternoon pottering around the house. Actually, I began by soaking the chickpeas on Friday evening. Nigella uses a slightly different method than that which I’m used to (which in the past has simply been to cover them with water and salt), which involves stirring a tenderising paste made from bicarb, flour and salt into the chickpea soaking water.
Although it’s hard to be definite about anything as subjective as the size of chickpeas, in my (unmeasured) opinion, the tenderising paste certainly seemed to do something. Come Saturday afternoon, the chickpeas had swollen nicely, more than doubled in size and had absorbed most of their soaking liquid. During the day on Saturday, I took advantage of my glorious isolation (Chris was working) and set about concentrating on three culinary tasks; 1.) Making the soup (up to the point where, if cooking in advance as I was, it needs to be temporarily halted), 2.) Making the wholemeal rolls/muffins and 3.) Making the salad dressing (incidentally I followed – always do follow – Jamie Oliver’s recipe for basic salad dressing in my second favourite Jamie book – “Cook with Jamie” (incidentally, my favourite Jamie book is Jamie’s Kitchen, which, in my opinion, is hugely and unforgivably underrated). So, all the soup requires is the drained and rinsed chickpeas, vegetable stock (and see above), rosemary tied in the Mrs Beeton-esque muslin bundle (and see the picture of my homespun version), peeled and knife-flattened garlic cloves and half of the EVOO thrown into a big pot. I used my oval, cream, ceramic casserole dish – which is just a Godsend and used so much by me that were I to loose it I would either have to replace it immediately or go insane without more ado! The slightly worrying thing is that you have to bring this delicately scented broth to the boil and then – when it has reached a rolling boil – simmer it until the chickpeas are tender, without uncovering, peeking in or generally prodding and poking; a nightmare for someone like me who is a.) incredibly impatient and b.) seemingly harbouring a repressed fear that somehow – culinary speaking – things are just waiting until I turn my back on them to go – spectacularly and disastrously – wrong (and believe me, this has happened to me – on more than one occasion). However, I managed to repress my natural urge to nervously peer and didn’t check on the chickpeas until Nigella advises – after 1 ½ hours. Now, I know that Nigella warns that chickpeas can take up to 4 hours to become tender, but I can only speak as I find, and my chickpeas were tender, buttery and utterly yielding – without verging on soggy and mushy rubble – after this short time. Then, simply add skinned, seeded and pulped (in the food processor fitted with the double blade) fresh tomatoes to the soup (and I do this by dunking the tomatoes in boiling water for 30 seconds-1 minute; their skins just slip off), season well and cook away – uncovered presumably, although the recipe doesn’t say – for a further 10 minutes. This is it – if you are cooking in advance that is. I won’t bore you with the preparation of the salad dressing etc, but thought that it was worth mentioning the little wholemeal bread rolls-cum-muffins that I made to accompany the salad and cheese. You see, they are baked in a muffin tray, but mine isn’t non-stick, so I knew I would have to line them – to avert disaster – in some way, but didn’t feel that the friendly paper bright-white cases would be in keeping with the rustic Italian tone of the meal (if you can forgive a little ponciness), and so I got it into my head that I was going to make some homespun muffin papers out of brown paper – a la Nigella’s muffin papers for her rhubarb muffins in Feast (in fact, I followed the 12cm x 12 cm instructions from Feast). Anyway, I thought they worked really well. I’m not sure I’d go to all that bother again – the muffin cases took longer to make than the sweet little yeasty rolls – but for a special occasion – as this was – they fitted the bill and looked suitably rustic yet distinguished nonetheless (see picture).
By the time Chris came home and we were ready to eat, the soup had had about 6 hours steeping time and it was then just a case of bringing it back to the boil and cooking the pasta in the broth until al dente. I used this time to put the various oils and parmesan on the table and also to finely chop a little flat-leaf parsley. When the pasta was as we like it, I sprinkled some parsley (about one tablespoon I guess) and drizzled the other half of the stipulated EVOO onto the soup and ladled the now finished soup out into awaiting bowls. Et voila!




(The chick peas after overnight soaking)




(The ingredients - in the casserole dish - pre cooking of any kind. The chick peas, stock, rosemary bundle, garlic and EVOO)

(After 1 1/2 hours simmering time)

Result: I think I am allowed– seeing as this is my returning meal – a little space to brag here, but I did think that this soup looked absolutely gorgeous; a soft swell of smooth and golden chickpeas and pasta, enveloped in poolfuls of glistening golden broth. The EVOO drizzled over each bowl settled into bright golden droplets on top of the soup and I thought the green flecks of the chopped parsley complimented the flaxen beauty of this soup perfectly. In Forever Summer – I’m pretty sure – Nigella has a recipe for “happiness soup,” so called because of its yellow colour, and indeed I think that this soup, with its calming fawny-golden glow is just that – instant good mood food!
In terms of taste, I admit that I was totally and utterly bowled over by the taste of this dish. Seemingly, this is a relatively simple soup – good, clear broth with chickpeas and pasta – but in reality it was an utter taste sensation. The chickpeas were cooked to perfection. I can’t say whether it was the tenderising paste or the cooking method – whatever – but believe me when I say that the chickpeas were wonderful. They were tender and yielding and buttery, creamy and gorgeous, whilst somehow still retaining their nutty bite. I have said that I used to eat chickpeas a lot as a child, but never like this. To eat them in this soup, surely must be to taste them at their best. The pasta was also heavenly. You wouldn’t want to under-do this pasta – certainly not – because it needs to be soft and silky and utterly yielding. This pasta was all of the above – and more. Eating it such as this – soft and tender – and cooked in that broth, just transported it into another realm of pleasure. And because it is ditalini, it has that wonderful stubby hollow tube, in which droplets of the golden broth or a straggly tangle of grated parmesan can become trapped, which just adds to the taste. I also loved the way in which both chickpeas and pasta were actually cooked in the broth. They were so involved in the meal, such an integral part, and because both are quite absorbent little starchy carbs; they soaked up and became imbued with the flavour of that wonderful broth. And the broth itself *was* absolutely wonderful. It was very light and very delicate, with a superb flavour, slightly reminiscent of vegetables and herbs (but to say that really isn’t to do it justice – by any means). The best thing about the clear golden soup was perhaps the subtle background flavours provided by the rosemary and garlic. They were present – certainly – but they did not dominate. At times, I thought I could detect a certain aromatic herbal tinge of rosemary, at other times a tangy note of garlic, but the point was – is – that these flavours didn’t fight for recognition. They were happy to exist – splendidly – in the background, proving deep and pleasurable flavour. I will be honest and say that I couldn’t really – if at all – taste the pureed tomatoes, but I am sure that they did add texture and flavour – how could they fail to?
I found the whole soup extremely warming, filling and comforting. As I say, it is instant good mood food and just how shimmering pools of flavoursome broth with those silky and buttery carbs could ever fail to provide instant comfort, is beyond me. This is just what I would want to eat on a cold winter’s day – to provide instant sustenance and cheer. As I say, it was filling. Of course, pasta and chickpeas would be, so I’m not sure that you could eat bowlful after bowlful without bowing out in a carb-induced stupor, but that shouldn’t be the goal of the meal! In the way that it was so warming and comforting, it reminded me of the earlier butternut and pasta soup, and I do think the two are very similar both in method, ingredients and taste (have a look), but I do think I prefer this. Whilst butternut is perhaps my favourite vegetable of all time, I loved this delicately infused soup with all of its many flavours too much to relegate it to second place!
Like Nigella, I am a committed carnivore and so you might be forgiven for wondering whether I missed – or whether the soup was lacking for the want of – protein. I hardly think so. The chickpeas were meaty in themselves, offering filling warmth and desired flavour. Growing up as a vegetarian with a vegetarian chef as a father, I often ate typically meat-based dishes, where chickpeas served as the protein and I see now that this was a sensible substitution – this needed no additions or elaborations; it was perfection in a bowl!
I should also say – whilst I remember – that I was flicking through “Jamie’s Italy” the other day (before I made this soup) and noticed that Jamie also has a recipe for chickpea and pasta soup. The two recipes are almost identical (as well they might, as this is a classic Italian Anna del Conte recipe); almost, but not quite. Jamie Oliver actually purees some of the completed soup in a liquidiser/blender before serving. I did wonder – before making it – whether I might prefer this soup liquidised, but now I think not. For one thing, I loved the silky smooth buttery, yet nutty, bite of the chickpeas, and for another I also really loved the slightly thinner broth that oozed its way into, between and around the pasta tubes. I would be sorry to loose some of that to a uniform sludge I see now.
There were a lot of accompaniments to the soup on the table – good EVOO, chilli oil, parmesan and parsley. Both Chris and I found that we loved the addition of a slug of peppery and alive EVOO and also to rain down a tangle of salty-sweet parmesan curls. I especially loved the way that the parmesan settled onto the chickpeas and pasta and began to oozingly melt over them – my favourite bit actually! Funnily enough, neither of us was mad on the chilli oil with the soup. I found it a little rusty and abrasive somehow and that it threw the mellow delicacy of the soup off kilter a little, but I accept that this – and all of the above – is just a matter or personal taste.
I did think that the second course – if it counts as that – was the perfect end to the meal. Surely there is nothing nicer than a sweet, yeasty wholemeal roll-muffin, with a sliver of creamy, melting taleggio and a leggy tangle of peppery, bitter rocket and chicory.
So, all in all this was an absolutely wonderful meal. It was mellow, golden heaven in a bowl – truly delightful – both comfortable and comforting.



















(I thought I'd share my wholemeal muffin-cum-rolls complete with homemade muffin cases with you!)


















(With the added pureed tomatoes, after 6 hours steeping time)





Other person’s perspective: Chris absolutely loved this soup and said that it was very comforting and filling. I was worried that he wouldn’t like the chickpeas – being a die-hard carnivore – but he said that they were amazing and that he loved the way that they absorbed the flavour of the soup. He said that he loved the broth and that the flavour of both the rosemary and garlic were there. A spoonful of everything – all together – was really a taste sensation. In terms of Chris’s preferred accompaniments; as I have mentioned, he liked a good grating of parmesan, some finely chopped flat-leaf parsley and a decent glug of EVOO. I think the nicest thing that Chris said was actually later that night, when we had retired into the lounge to watch “The X Factor.” He said – and I quite agree – that this soup was like simple, Italian peasant food, worthy of a Michelin star!
The next day – as I have mentioned – I heated up the remaining soup for both mum and Chris for lunch (not dad – sadly – as due to a gluten allergy he couldn’t eat the pasta) and both said that it was absolutely delicious. Annoyingly – because I wasn’t eating it! – Chris said that it was better the next day. Both mum and Chris had second helpings and I think it is true testament to the quality of this soup that I literally had to scrape the dish to give mum a decent second portion and the casserole dish finally retired to the sink completely empty!

(With the added pasta after reheating and added parsley and remaining EVOO)

Future changes: It is difficult to think of anything to change here. The soup was pretty perfect as it was. I think that it might be nice to serve the soup *with* some fresh bread – how lovely to have further spongy carbs to soak up all that golden goodness – and not reserve the bread to be brought out later. Oh, and I wouldn’t bother bringing out the chilli oil again.

(One lovely big bowl of soup!)

Rating: 5/5 from both of us.