Stretching the boundaries of chickpeas: panelle

Well, ragazzi, perhaps we should say  something about the horrific situation in France.   Annalena will say, she feels horrible about it.  She feels horrible about the fighting on line about it:  it seems that everyone wants to claim the right to hurt the most.  Is it worth it?  People are making fun of each other's grief.   For heaven's sake  LEAVE EACH OTHER ALONE IF YOU CAN'T CRY AND LAUGH TOGETHER.  HUG EACH OTHER.   As Melanie wrote and sang "bleed inside each other's wounds" but KNOCK IT OFF" as Annalena's grandmother would say.


It will shock no one who knows her, that Annalena has retreated to the kitchen today.  She's ovewhelmed.  In the kitchen, she can lose herself.  And so she is.  She's making soup.  Lots and lots of soup.  and you'll see the recipes.  But for today, we will be revisiting Sicily with something Annalena always wanted to make:  panelle.  And she has. And she will make them again. And she hopes you will too.

Ultimately, panelle are a representation of a cultural "trope" from the Mediterranean:  chickpea flour and water, combined, and cooked.  You will see this in France, in panisse (which are fried, like panelle),  socca, (which are crepes), and in Liguria, in farinata (which is baked, like a chickpea focaccia).

Chickpeas have served a VERY important part in world nutrition, ragazzi.  Unlike Annalena, they are low maintenance. And they give back to the soil.  The yield is high.  They dry well.  (Annalena is not a fan of fresh chickpeas). Like all legumes,  they are loaded with protein.  In fact, if you eat 1/10 of the recipe which follows, you will have the protein of a large egg.  Since you WILL eat more,   you'll be getting some high quality, low cost protein. And even though we will be frying, you will NOT be getting too much oil in you. Annalena promises.


Panelle are street food, but they've been co-opted to restaurants all over Italy and New York.  Annalena has eaten them everywhere, and likes the ones closes to street food.  Uneven pieces, uneven thickness, but OH, so GOOD.    Oh, why are we waiting? Let's get started.

First, while your base ingredients are minimal:  chickpea flour, water, oil, you have to make sure you get the right chickpea flour

Other cuisines use chickpea flour and if you compare them, they are not the same.  DO NOT get the Indian chickpea flour called "besam."  This is good stuff:  for Indian cooking.  Get an Italian brand. This is an Italian recipe, and you can find this stuff easily.  It's called "farina di ceci" which is a literal translation of chickpea flour.

When Annalena was getting ready to make these, she researched ratios, and found that, while everyone uses, essentially chickpea flour and water (there are additives to some which we will not discuss here, except for the traditional parsley), it is difficult to get a handle on the ratios.  And thus, you have to be ready to be flexible with your water.  Annalena started with 2 cups of flour, and three cups of cold water.  She eventually added a fourth cup. 

So, first, get a surface ready, or a container, and make sure it is OILED WELL.  Use olive oil.  Annalena had a baking sheet with parchment.  Her galpal Annalisa uses a bread pan.  Others use an 8x8 glass pan, so that they can make "chick pea french fries." It matters not, just as long as you have a place to put it.  IF  you use a flat surface, however, have a heat proof spatula ready, and oil it too. 

Now, let's cook. Put three cups of water and the two cups of chickpea flour in a pot, and stir it, without heat, until there are no lumps:

Almost looks like light cream, yes?  Now, put mid heat on the thing:

and whisk, whisk, whisk.  You'll begin to notice a thickening almost immediately, like porridge:

And it will get thicker and thicker.  It may even test your strength:

It will certainly test  your patience.  But that stuff above, although thick, is NOT ready. If you are getting serious resistance, but no pull away (as Annalena did), then add more water.  That did the trick for her, and her ratio was 2 cups flour to 4 cups water.   When is it ready?  It's ready, when the mass definitively moves away from the side of  the pan when you're whisking.  How long that takes, will vary.  Annalena saw times ranging from 20 minutes to an hour.  It took her 25 minutes or so:

It's hard to show this in a photo, but you'll know.  If you've made cream puff dough, it's the same principle:  things begin gathering around your whisk when you stir, rather than falling back to the pot perimeter.    

IF  you are inclined, at this point, AFTER the stuff has coalesced around your whisk, you can stir in as much finely chopped parsley as you like.  You SHOULD add it; however, Annalena didn't because... she had just used up all her parsley on something else.  

If you are using the bread pan, to make thick slices, pour the stuff into that.  If you are using a flat surface, pour it out and spread it:  FAST.

This is NOT the time when you go to answer the phone, or the bathroom.  No.  DO. IT. NOW.  It won't be even all around, and that's ok.  Just spread it out, as best you can. 

Now, you need patience.  This stuff has to firm up.  It has to firm up for at least half a day.  Let it sit at room temperature until it cools down, and then, if you have the space, you can store it as one piece, but you can also cut it and stack it:

See how Annalena made different sized pieces?  Part of that was accidental, part was by design.  She wanted to use these guys in different ways.  If you are using the bread pan, you will unmold the loaf of cooked flour, and then slice with a nice sharp knife (or better, dental floss), to make thin slices.  The more creative of you will see the potential for stars, circles, etc.  Annalena does not need to put rouge on this. 

When you're ready to fry, fill the pan with about half an inch of oil (Annalena used vegetable oil),  and get it nice and hot.  You can tell if it's hot enough, by putting the end of a wooden spoon in the oil, and seeing if it bubbles hard.  Or, you can test with an errant small piece of your paste.  In any event, don't overcrowd the pan:

Fry for about two minutes on each side.  You can lift them up to check the color.  You want a nice, golden brown one.  It may take longer to fry the first side, than the second. But when you're done:

If you didn't put parsley in these at the start,  you can now shower them with parsley.  And lemon juice, as Allison suggested to Annalena (she's right).  Don't forget salt. 

If, as Annalena, you will eat all of them, once you make them, make them in smaller quantities.  The unfried, cut slices keep for a while in the fridge. Annalena made her paste on Monday, cooked a batch on Tuesday, and cooked another batch on Thursday.  And wished she had made more.  

One other thing, ragazzi: if you taste these, before you fry them, you will wonder why you're doing this.  They will taste bitter, even nasty.  Trust Annalena:  the frying fixes everything. 

And also, for those of you who wonder about the fat, there was a commercial years ago, discussing the "wessonality" of the aforementioned oil.  One would cook fried chicken in the oil, measure the oil at the end, and "it all comes back except one tablespoon."  Well, yes, because the chicken gives up its own fat, numbskull; however, with this one, you really won't be using that much fat.  It DOES pretty much all come back. 

Admit it:  you like fried food.  You LOVE fried food.  And the fact that the dish has no cholesterol, has lots of protein, and is not expensive, are all factors in its favor.  So, what are you waiting for, an invitation?  Make em NOW. And let Annalena know what you think of them.

Tomorrow, an invitation to soup, as we make the wonderful Tuscan ribollita.