crispy bbq chickpeas

It's Monday, bitches. And this weekend, I fucked up.

Something I've recently noticed about the online vegan community is this phenomenon that I've unofficially dubbed the authenticity arms race; vegans from all over the world are on this constant quest to prove that they are the purest. Normal vegans repent when they learn that the flavor dust covering their favorite brand of potato chips contains dehydrated milk powder. Higher-level vegans take it a step beyond that, even going so far as refusing to eat produce harvested using animal labor. I say, good on 'em. That's commitment. That's a vegan who's done their homework. I am not one of these people. One thing that DOES matter a lot to me, however, is authenticity. Mama's not gonna lie to you here, that's one promise I CAN make. It's not a choice, it's a mental affliction.

I'm not going to sit here and walk you around this confession; this was nothing that was done by accident. My mother is back in town for a few months and she's come with a mission: to pick the fifteen pounds I lost this summer up off the ground and pack it back into my disgusting body. She's willing to do anything to accomplish this goal. When I asked her where she wanted to go out for her first night back, she chose a place called Cisco's, a very nice local restaurant with absolutely zero vegan entrees. This is the type of place that hides bacon fat in the beans. I want to say that I stuck to my principles and ate nothing but a serving of guac and a side of corn tortilla chips, but the fact of the matter is I got very drunk way too quickly and ended up ordering the white fish ceviche over rice. It ain't pretty, but it's the truth. There's something about red wine that renders me completely powerless in the face of delicious food. If you're a huge pig just like me, you know exactly what I'm talking about. This is a feeling we both know well.

The more astute among you will notice that we've undergone a name change, from "upvegan" to "pinkbelly." This, again, goes back to my obsessive need to always tell the truth, no matter what the cost. The omission of the vegan label does admittedly change the aesthetic of this blog slightly, but fret not. We're still very much on a vegan journey, even if only in spirit.

Anyway, it's Monday, bitches, I'm back on the wagon, and we're gonna make some crispy BBQ chickpeas. Let's do this.

The things you'll need:

chickpeas

brown sugar

onion powder

cumin

granulated garlic

paprika

cayenne

chili powder

salt

black pepper

Before we begin, let's talk beans. You're gonna want to soak these guys for at least twelve hours before you're ready to cook them. This is by far one of the most useful things I've ever learned about food; soaking the beans not only helps them cook faster, but also makes them easier to digest. This applies to all beans. You will not regret taking this extra step. Your guts will thank you.

These are my beans. They're getting real nice and wet in there. After twelve hours have elapsed, set this thing over a medium-high flame and turn that pool into a little jacuzzi. Preheat your oven to 325°, while you're at it.

Chickpeas used to be a mystery to me; their misleadingly cheerful appearance would always trick me into thinking they were adequately cooked long before that was ever the case. They need a solid forty-five minutes on the stove before you even want to start thinking about popping them into your mouth.

When they're soft enough to eat, you're going to transfer them to a colander with a skimmer. DO NOT DRAIN THE WATER. Once all of the beans have reached the safety of the sink, dial back the heat slightly and reduce until there is about half as much as what you started out with. This water is called aquafaba, and it is liquid gold. Set it aside for another time.

Look at them, just sitting there in the basket. What the fuck are they so happy about? Let them rest in the colander for ten minutes. When they've had a chance to dry slightly, rub 'em down with a paper towel and put them in a big bowl with all of your spices. Mix until they are well-coated.

Did I mention the fact that this recipe is oil-free? You bet your sweet tuchus it is. Stick this thing into your oven. In ten minutes, you're going to remove it, toss them around, and put it back in. Do this two or three more times or until they're dehydrated but not hard as rocks. They'll condense slightly after cooling, so be wary of overcooking them. You'll lose a fucking tooth.

And there you have it. Crispy BBQ chickpeas, fresh from your very own kitchen.

Two thoughts in retrospect: one, these would have done very well with a little squirt of citrus, probably lime. Two, they could have also used a squeeze of something thick, viscous, and sweet, like agave, maple syrup, or honey. Which, as I've learned recently, is NOT actually vegan, even though it's not a compound that the bees excrete themselves (oops). You live. You learn.

They're kind of like Corn Nuts, only without all of the chemicals that make Corn Nuts delicious and physically addictive. Store in an airtight container and consume within a fortnight.

They're great for work if you don't sit too close to your coworkers, mostly due to the fact that anybody within a four hundred foot radius will be able to hear you crunch on them, which has the potential to be distracting at times. It's not good for productivity. Don't be that guy.