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Receta Hey There my Little Chickpea.
by Violet Séverine Blanchard

When I was little I'd invite my friends to come over to my house to play D&D, video games, throw rocks at each other, and watch horror movies until my mom yelled at us to go to bed. "Normal American kids" pretty much, whatever that means. I lived outside of Atlanta, Georgia at the time and the few friends I had, had deep Southern drawls. But I remember it always being a little strange the first time a new friend would come over and hear my mothers hardcore New York (where I was born) accent and my grandparents Cuban accents. "Are you a Mexican?" they would ask with confusion and a hint of displeasure. "No asshole. I'm Cuban." would usually be my reply and then we'd awkwardly play by ourselves until their parents picked them up and we'd never hang out again. It wasn't the fact that they though I was Mexican. Or even the fact that they were young racists in the making. I was just proud to be Cuban (among other things). I wasn't going to let anyone make me feel bad about who I was. I had one or two friends that didn't care where I came from though.

I had one friend named Brian who came from a stingy, fat-shaming Baptist family. We became really good friends. I hated going to his house to play though. He was a bit husky and I remember his parents making him drink diet soda and they would order a medium pizza for the whole family of four plus me to share. Fuck that. One slice of sad cheese pizza and diet coke. What is this, prison? I told my mom how terrible it was over there and now whenever I'd go she would pack my backpack full of snacks. However the majority of the time he came to my house to play. I think he especially liked coming over because he could eat as much as he wanted. My family always shoved food on anyone who came over. It was kind and giving. Always trying to make everyone feel taken care of and included. A trait I still try to uphold.

I recall one of our favorite things that my grandmother would make us was the garbanzo and potato omelette (called omeletta). There were no eggs involved, just mashed chickpeas and potatoes with garlic and lots of spices. We would eat like three of them and drink regular cokes and eat bags of chips and candy and watch R-rated movies and life was good. Anyways, the last time I saw the guy we had all grown up (well he did I guess) and it was awkward and kind of unpleasant. He smoked a pipe and thought my mohawk looked "childish". After dropping him off I went out and bought some whiskey and cranked Minor Threat in the car. If growing up means getting all judgmental and boring then you can count me out. All I know is that I'm happy and I will never again be starved by Baptists.

In a large non stick pan over medium high heat. Add 1 c. olive oil. Add the white parts of the scallions, garlic, and diced potatoes to the pan.

Saute until the potatoes are mostly tender (about 5 minutes).

Toss in the garbanzo beans, spices, and 1/2 cup water (or chicken stock/veg stock to make it even yummier). Cook for 5 more minutes until the liquid is mostly dissolved and the veggies are fully tender.

Pour half of the mixture into a large bowl and mash it until it become a chunky paste. Pour in the rest of the mixture into the bowl and gently stir to combine it.

Wipe the pan clean and add a Tbsp of olive oil. Spread the garbanzo and potato mixture into the pan so that it even and flush against the sides of the pan. Turn the heat down to medium and cook for 6 minutes until the bottom becomes golden brown.

Lay a large plate over the top of the pan and carefully flip the omeletta onto the plate. Then slide the omeletta back into the pan to brown the other side. After 5 minutes flip it back onto the plate.

Mix a few dashes of hot sauce into some sour cream.

Slice the omeletta into quarters. Garnish with the hot sauce/sour cream, green scallion and parsley.

Eat as much as you want. Enjoy life. Don't be a jerk. xoxo