Subliminally affected by the advice of one of our foremost religious and philosophical leaders, I turned to my kitchen cabinets today in search of the homeliest of legumes. I found it there, unassuming in its knobby chickpea-liness and suggestive as always of humble desert feasts.

Martha didn’t say chickpeas will make you healthier. She said they will make you happier. The Romans roasted chickpeas and ate them as a snack. Their civilization didn’t last, but there is substantial and undeniable evidence that they were happy. I have soaked, cooked and served chickpeas a fair amount, taking part in the ancient tradition of converting this bullet-tough pea into something edible,They are filling and delicious when freshly-cooked and mixed with garlic, lemon, olive oil and parsley. They seem to have enjoyed a surge in popularity in recent years, possibly because people are drawn to their irresistible ugliness and definitely because there are more vegetarians.

But I have never noticed whether they make for greater happiness. I hereby undertake an experiment. Over the next month, I will be serving chickpeas in noticeably increased portions to my family. Many housewives have this spirit of scientific inquiry.

I will not be spritzing myself with essential oils as recommended by Martha. This goes against every particle of my temperament. To spritz with essential or even inessential oils strikes me as shameless idolatry, no different from constructing an altar and beckoning others to light incense and tapers at my feet. Chickpeas, yes. Essential oils, no.

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