I never knew what a chickpea was until 1979, when I went to a spa and they appeared in a salad. On that trip, I learned that if you roasted them, they make delicious pop into your mouth snacks. Sometime in the 1980s I tasted hummus, and years later, saw that there was a thing called chickpea flour, while looking for ​“all purpose.” Little by little, chickpeas found their way into my life, but I never connected the parts and pieces. Reading that my daughter Julia is doing a class on the chickpea on May 18 (“One Can of Chickpeas, So Many Possibilities”), I went down the rabbit hole, and WOW, those little protein packed, versatile beauties have been around 10,000 years. Given the tariffs, I was happy to learn that they are grown here — in California, Utah, Colorado and Montana. And chickpeas show up in dishes everywhere. People have written poems about them, including Rumi, who speaks to the wisdom of the chickpea — going from raw to cooked, like himself. I thought I might write an ode to them, but when I read ​“A Vegan​’s Ode To The Chickpea” (by Ginny Messina, 2009), I didn’t need to. Here is one stanza from it:

You may think that you love chickpeas
You’re convinced you’re their biggest fan
But I’ve got you beat by a mile
I eat them right outta the can.