Roasted chickpeas, potatoes and tomatoes

Roasted chickpeas, potatoes and tomatoes with sage and rosemary

Roasted chickpeas, potatoes and tomatoes with sage and rosemary

Thoreau famously warned us to “beware of all enterprises that require new clothes.” As I was going about my chores this morning, thinking my confused thoughts, I came up with my own version. “Beware of any enterprise that requires you to stifle your sense of compassion.” Beware of any occupation that requires you to think of other lives as less valuable than your own life. Beware of any undertaking that requires you to treat people in a way you wouldn’t treat the people you most love. Beware of any job that forces you to think of people as enemies. If you’re being trained that the suffering of strangers is less tragic than the suffering of your friends, quit your training. Beware of anybody that asks you to respond to any situation with only anger and fear. Beware of anybody that tells you love, pity, and empathy are signs of weakness. Beware of any goal that requires cruelty or thoughtlessness to achieve. Beware of anyone that asks you to act without understanding.

    It is the job of thinking people not to be on the side of the executioners. – Albert Camus

So! Tiny new potatoes, chickpeas and tomatoes, all tossed together with shallots, garlic and olive oil. Seasoned with rosemary and sage, and roasted till crispy and caramelized. Delicious! This smells so good while you’re cooking it. I like potatoes and tomatoes together, for some reason it seems very summery and harvesty to me. We’re not there yet, obviously, so this is like a wish or a preview. This would be nice in summer with chopped ripe tomatoes, but for the time being I used little sweet grape tomatoes. They became almost like sundried tomatoes. Rich and flavorful. The first time we ate this, it was crispy and firm. The second time, I added some white wine at the end, used it to scrape up all the nice caramelly bits, covered it, and cooked it till everything was tender. It was very nice both ways! We ate it on a bed of baby spinach and arugula. Lovely.

Here’s Compassion, by Nina Simone.


2 cups tiny potatoes, or 2 cups diced larger tomatoes
1 can chickpeas, rinsed and very well-drained
2 cups cherry or grape tomatoes, or plum tomatoes sliced in half
1 shallot, roughly chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 t sage
1 t rosemary
1 t thyme
1/4 cup olive oil

1/2 cup dry white wine (optional)

salt and plenty of pepper

Preheat the oven to 425. Combine everything in a roasting pan and mix well. Arrange in a single layer. Roast till everything is brown and crispy and coated with flavor. You’ll need to stir everything and scrape the bottom from time to time. This should take 35 to 45 minutes, depending on the sides of your potatoes. After this time, everything in the pan will be flavorful and a little dry. It’s nice like this on salads or as a side. If you want it to be more tender, add 1/2 cup dry white wine. Scrape up all the caramelized bits from the bottom of the pan to make a nice saucy base. Cover with foil, and cook for five or ten more minutes. Also nice this way on a salad or as a side, or even as a sort of sauce.

4 thoughts on “Roasted chickpeas, potatoes and tomatoes

  1. Totally agree with your takes on compassion! Yum – re: recipe: I do this with assorted herbs, green beans, asparagus or artichoke hearts & sometimes salty greek olives or capers too

    • I thought of olives! But I didn’t have any. I think they would be wonderful. As would artichoke hearts and asparagus! Some green would be nice with all that warm earthiness. I’ll try it that way next time. Thanks.

  2. Shakespeare’s Birthday today – happy Birthday Will!!!!! He would have loved your soliloquy. Alas it is too long to put at the bottom of my email, but do put it further out there as it is a powerful statement.

    Recipe sounds good too…..

    • I didn’t know it was Shakespeare’s birthday, but I was thinking about him as I wrote this. I was thinking, I would tell Hamlet not to let anyone (even himself and definitely not future English majors) call him cowardly or crazy for not wanting to kill a man, no matter what that man may or may not have done.

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