Chickpeas, Lentils & Every Bean in Between - Part 2
The possibilities
“I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.”
I was debating with myself whether to open with this quote - the most famous bean reference in cinema - delivered by Hannibal Lecter with his unsettling hiss. Not exactly the most appetising start but I just couldn’t resist it.
After last week’s “foundation course” on all things beans, this is where things shift from rules to play. How the same chickpea becomes hummus, chana masala, or pasta e ceci.
Cooking with beans
I’ve pulled together a few thoughts on how I cook with beans - the ones I use most and the instincts that guide me. This isn’t prescriptive: you can absolutely put miso with white beans (I do), or lemon with black beans (it works beautifully). But understanding these pairings gives a kind of grammar - something that helps improvise.
Chickpeas have a natural sweetness, almost nutty. They need brightness against that: lemon juice, sumac, the sharpness of raw garlic. They love tahini because the bitterness of sesame balances their sweetness. Cumin makes sense because it’s warm and grounding without being heavy. I reach for spinach or chard with chickpeas because that slight bitterness provides contrast. Tomatoes - cooked down until sweet and concentrated - turn chickpeas into something comforting and more complete. I love our confit tandoori chickpeas. But you can also go for hardly any cooking of the tomatoes, like in this quick to put together combination of warm chickpeas, tomatoes, capers and feta.
White beans are mild, almost blank, which makes them incredibly versatile but also means they need stronger personalities around them. Rosemary and white beans are one of those perfect marriages - the piney intensity together with the creaminess of the beans. Sage, too, especially crisped in butter or olive oil. They need good olive oil, the grassy kind, and they need garlic - lots of it, cooked until sweet. Celery and white beans are an Italian truth: the aromatic bitterness, the way celery adds structure without weight. A little anchovy dissolved into the cooking fat is never wrong. They’re also fantastic mashed.
Lentils - particularly the brown or green ones that hold their shape - call for earthy spices. Cumin, coriander, turmeric if you’re going in a dal direction. But they also need some richness to balance their slight dryness: yoghurt, cream, butter, olive oil. I always put something crispy or crunchy on lentils - fried onions, toasted nuts, crispy capers. Bitter greens work beautifully: kale, mustard greens, anything with some bite.
Black beans speak a bit of different language. They’re made for combining with lime, lots of it, and coriander. They want heat - jalapeños, chipotles, that smoky warmth. Cumin, yes, but also oregano, which gives them a meaty depth.
They’re for texture too
One of the most remarkable things about beans, chickpeas, and lentils is how radically different they become depending on how you treat them. The same chickpea can be:
Creamy and smooth - Hummus, white bean purée, dal. Cooked until very soft, then blitzed with fat (olive oil, tahini, butter, cream) until smooth (or smooth-ish).
Whole and toothsome - In salads, stews, as a side. Cooked to that perfect point where they yield completely but still hold their shape.
Crispy and crunchy - Roasted chickpeas, fried lentils, beans crisped in oil or the oven. A completely different animal - nutty, almost snack-like, brilliant scattered over softer things for contrast.
How they travel
The same ingredient becomes completely different depending on where it lands. A brief tour:
Chickpeas: Levantine hummus (smooth, tahini-rich, lemony, served with olive oil pooled on top) vs Indian chana masala (whole chickpeas in a tomato-based spiced sauce, rich with ginger and garam masala) vs Italian pasta e ceci (chickpeas and broken pasta in a simple, brothy situation, rosemary and garlic doing all the work).
White beans: Tuscan ribollita (bread soup with beans, kale, and tomatoes) vs Greek gigantes (giant beans baked slowly in tomato sauce with dill and parsley) vs French cassoulet (slow-cooked with duck confit and sausage, rich beyond measure).
Lentils: Indian dal (spiced, often with a tarka of tempered spices sizzled in ghee poured over the top) vs French lentilles du Puy (simply cooked with shallots, dressed with vinaigrette and mustard, served at room temperature) vs Egyptian koshari (lentils, rice, pasta, crispy onions, and spicy tomato sauce in glorious layers).
And today, two recipes. One uses beans straight from the jar, tossed into a salad for texture. The other features our chickpeas with Bold Bean Co (though any black or white chickpeas will do), folded into a rice that’s as versatile as it is comforting - serve it with roast chicken, top it with a yoghurty sauce, or enjoy it just as it is for dinner.
Warm green bean and lentil salad
This salad is full of textures and can be eaten either warm or at room temperature. The real secret here is the dressing: it's a kind of green goddess, minus the dairy. It's sharp and radiates herbs, like you're eating grass almost. You may find that about three quarters of the dressing is enough. The rest will keep for 3-4 days in the fridge and is delicious on roasted vegetables, like cabbage or cauliflower, or stirred through warm grain bowls.
Harissa baked rice with hispi cabbage and black chickpeas
Low-effort but big on flavour: everything here happens in one pan - the cabbage gets slightly charred and sweet, the rice soaks up all that harissa and tomato, and the black chickpeas bring a bite. It’s a side (roast chicken or vegetables) that easily becomes a main, especially with a dollop of yoghurt and a squeeze of lemon on top. Swap the black chickpeas for black beans or regular ones if that’s what you’ve got - it’s all fair game here.
