Chickpea Pasta Salad

One week. Seven days. Rosa's wedding is in seven days and the house has become a staging ground — the kitchen is a commissary, the dining room is command central, and I am the general, the chef, and the mother of the bride, and all three of these roles require the same thing: total commitment, zero doubt, and more garlic than anyone thinks is reasonable.

I started the pernil marinade on Monday. Two shoulders, twenty pounds each, stabbed with a knife in forty places and stuffed with a paste of garlic, oregano, olive oil, vinegar, and black pepper that I made with my hands — always with my hands, never a food processor, because the paste needs to feel the pressure of fingers that know what they are doing, and my fingers know what they are doing. The shoulders are in the refrigerator now, wrapped in plastic, marinating, transforming. By Saturday they will be ready. By Sunday they will be perfect.

Ana drove up from Bridgeport on Wednesday to help. Ana is my sister, the sixth of the seven Delgado children, and she is the only person besides Eduardo who I allow in my kitchen without supervision. We made ensalada de coditos together — eight pounds of macaroni, mayonnaise, pimientos, peas, hard-boiled eggs — the Puerto Rican version that is not the American macaroni salad and should never be confused with it. Ana and I stood at the counter elbow to elbow, the way we stood in Mami's kitchen in Bayamón when we were girls, and the muscle memory was so precise that we didn't need to speak. We made the salad in silence, and the silence was a conversation.

Sofía tried on her maid-of-honor dress and stood in the hallway and I looked at my youngest daughter and saw Mami at twenty — the same face, the same posture, the same quiet certainty that the world will make room for her because she will insist on it. Sofía is twenty. She is studying to be a nurse. She is standing in a lavender dress in my hallway looking like the future, and I had to turn away because the pride was so large it pressed against my chest like something physical.

Eduardo ironed his suit. He stood in the bedroom with the iron and the suit and the patience of a man who has been married to me for thirty-one years and has learned that the week before a family event is not the time to have opinions. He ironed. He said nothing. He is perfect.

Ana went home Thursday morning, but the salad she and I made together is still in the refrigerator, covered, waiting, getting better by the hour — because a good pasta salad always does. If you want to make something for a crowd that holds up, that travels, that tastes even more like itself the next day, this Chickpea Pasta Salad is where I point you. It is not our exact ensalada de coditos, but it has the same logic: pasta, something with substance, something bright, something creamy, made with patience and left alone to become what it needs to become. Make it the day before. Do not rush it. It knows what it is doing.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 32 minutes (plus 1 hour chilling) | Servings: 10

Ingredients

1 lb (16 oz) rotini or elbow pasta
1 can (15 oz) chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 cup cherry tomatoes, halved
1 cup cucumber, diced
1/2 cup red onion, finely diced
1/2 cup roasted red peppers, chopped
1/2 cup pitted Kalamata olives, halved
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
1/4 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of heavily salted water to a boil. Cook pasta according to package directions until al dente. Drain, rinse under cold water to stop cooking, and spread on a sheet pan to cool completely.
Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together olive oil, red wine vinegar, lemon juice, oregano, and garlic powder. Season generously with salt and black pepper. Taste it — it should be bold, because the pasta will absorb a great deal of it.
Combine the salad. In a very large bowl, combine the cooled pasta, chickpeas, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, red onion, roasted red peppers, and olives. Pour the dressing over everything and toss until evenly coated.
Fold in the finishing ingredients. Add the feta and parsley and fold gently so the feta doesn’t break down completely. You want pockets of it throughout.
Chill before serving. Cover the bowl and refrigerate for at least 1 hour, or overnight. Before serving, taste again and adjust salt, pepper, or a splash more vinegar as needed — pasta salad dulls as it sits and often needs a second seasoning.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chickpea Pasta Salad — The Salad You Make in Silence, Elbow to Elbow