Chick Pea and Green Bean Salad -- The Side Dish That Said Welcome Home

Mid-June, and the lockdown is loosening — not ending, not by any measure, but loosening, the way a fist loosens when the anger passes, opening finger by finger, slowly, with the residual tension of something that was gripped too tightly for too long. The library is talking about reopening. Ruth is talking about returning. The world is talking about "the new normal," which is a phrase I dislike because it implies that the abnormal has become acceptable, and I am not willing to accept a normal that includes masks and distance and the inability to hug my sister.

Robert retired on June 30th. He walked out of the law office for the last time on a Tuesday afternoon, drove home, parked in the driveway, and sat in the car for ten minutes. I watched from the kitchen window. I did not go to him. The ten minutes were his — the decompression, the exhale, the transition from a man who argues for a living to a man who builds for a living, and the transition required a silence that I was wise enough to provide and humble enough not to fill.

When he came inside, he went directly to the workshop. I heard the saw start. The saw was the first sound of his retirement, and the sound was the sound of a man beginning, at fifty-three, the life he chose rather than the life he fell into, and the choosing is the courage, and the courage is the sound of a saw in a garage in Charleston on the first afternoon of the rest of Robert Blackwood's life.

Carrie is preparing to leave for Emory in August — the leaving delayed by COVID but not cancelled, the delay a postponement rather than a denial. She packs with the particular efficiency of a girl who has been waiting to leave for three years and who considers every day between now and August a day spent in the wrong city. I do not take this personally. The wrong-city-ness is not about me. It is about the future, which lives in Atlanta, and Carrie has always been a woman who faces the future the way she faces everything: directly, impatiently, with both hands open.

I made Robert's first retirement dinner: his choice, which was steak and a baked potato and the green beans that Mama used to make with bacon and onion. The dinner was simple and generous and exactly what the evening required: a meal that says "you are home now, and home is where the steak is, and the steak is where the love is, and the love is right here, on this plate, at this table, in this house that you built shelves for and that is now, finally, fully yours."

The green beans were the heart of that dinner — Mama’s recipe, the one that smells like every good summer evening I can remember, with bacon and onion and the kind of simplicity that only reveals itself after years of trying to be complicated. I’ve adapted it over time into something that holds its own as a full salad, built around chick peas for staying power and bright enough to feel like a celebration, because that’s exactly what that Tuesday evening was: a quiet, sawdust-scented celebration of a man who finally got to begin. If you’re feeding someone who just walked through a door they’ve been waiting years to open, this is the dish you bring to the table.

Chick Pea and Green Bean Salad

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 1 lb fresh green beans, trimmed and cut into 2-inch pieces
• 1 (15 oz) can chick peas (garbanzo beans), drained and rinsed
• 4 strips thick-cut bacon, chopped
• 1/2 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more for blanching water
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
• 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped

Instructions

1. Blanch the green beans. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the green beans and cook for 4–5 minutes until just tender but still bright green. Drain and immediately transfer to a bowl of ice water to stop cooking. Drain again and pat dry.
2. Cook the bacon. In a large skillet over medium heat, cook the chopped bacon until crisp, about 6–7 minutes. Transfer bacon to a paper towel-lined plate, reserving 1 tablespoon of drippings in the pan.
3. Soften the onion and garlic. In the same skillet with the reserved drippings, add the sliced onion and cook over medium-low heat for 4–5 minutes until softened and lightly golden. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more. Remove from heat.
4. Make the dressing. In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, red wine vinegar, Dijon mustard, salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes if using.
5. Combine and toss. In a large serving bowl, combine the blanched green beans, chick peas, cooked onion and garlic, and crumbled bacon. Drizzle the dressing over the top and toss gently to coat everything evenly.
6. Rest and serve. Let the salad rest for 5 minutes so the flavors can settle. Scatter the fresh parsley over the top and serve warm or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 218 | Protein: 8g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 6g | Sodium: 390mg