The Unknown: Vegan Turkish Delight Meringues

Who knew that the leftover liquid from canned chickpeas could go on to make meringues in place of egg whites? I can't even fathom how someone in the world looked at the run-off from canned chickpeas and thought 'you know, that could replace eggs to make a meringue' (though considering the dietary hurdles they encounter, it was probably a vegan). The unassuming mind can be baffled at this phenomenon, moreso if one is familiar and versed in the ways of egg foams. Upon discovering such an alternative that readily circumvents the age-old, illustrious egg, I remember reading Harold McGee's On Food And Cooking and the principles of egg foaming and meringue. Egg whites, rich in protein, form a cohesive protein network when air is incorporated, acting as a scaffold that supports the tiny air bubbles, with the water content giving tension and strength to this construct. Add sugar, and this scaffold strengthens. So with this in mind, chickpea water (in fact, one could surmise any viscous, high protein liquid) shouldn't be too surprising as a source of crunchy, mallow-like, sweet meringue. Chickpeas, high in protein and soaking for however long in water, will undoubtedly grant their protein richness to their submerged medium. Thus, chickpea water can act much like egg whites; able to form a strong enough protein scaffold to sustain and contain incorporated air bubbles. Sugar will again strengthen this, and this chickpea water foam will have enough constitution to endure baking.

These meringues are light and delicate, like eating solidified sugar mist. They seem even more melting in the mouth than egg meringues, perhaps owing to the sheer scarcity of chickpea liquid they are borne from as well as their original, pure fluid state. In concert to this sense of palatable lightness, I added rosewater and drizzled dark chocolate as a sort of inspiration taken from Cadbury's Turkish Delight (without the jelliness). Making these vegan meringues differs somewhat from egg white-derived varieties. I found them to be less firm and stiff than the cloud-like chiffon foams, and any intricate crenellations from piping lost their shape when I tried using a star-shaped nozzle. Though this could be due to some incorrect machinations on my part (maybe beating too long), I still managed to form proper meringue. The pure alchemy of turning liquid to solid rings truest here, much more than other aspects of baking that have become the norm. Apply heat to an egg as is, and it will solidify. Do the same to chickpea water... and it becomes hot chickpea water. Made into meringue, however, shows the wonder of baking - of turning something into a product so unlike its predecessors. I made these as a curious experiment and am satisfied and pleased with the result; to me, vegan meringues act as one of the frontier vanguards to the magical qualities of baking. 

Makes ~50, three trays worth, depending on size.

• 1 Can of chickpeas (use chickpeas for cooking)
• 170 g Caster sugar
• 1 tsp Cream of tartar
• 1 tsp Rosewater
• 100 g ~50% Dark Chocolate
• Pinch of sea salt

1. Preheat your oven to the highest setting and line three large baking trays with baking paper.


2. Strain liquid from canned chickpeas into a clean, large mixing bowl, making sure there is no fat or oil present. Use a slice of lemon and rub along the inside of the bowl if you want to be sure. Reserve the chickpeas for cooking.


3. Using an electric whisk, whisk the chickpea liquid until it appears foam-like and bubbly, almost holding it's shape when you lift the beaters. This may take a good while so be patient.


4. After the liquid appears bubbly like soap, add the cream of tartar and the rosewater before adding the sugar gradually while beating with the electric whisk, a tablespoon at a time. Keep doing this until all the sugar has been added. Keep whisking until the meringue mix thickens and holds its shape.


5. Either spoon the meringue mixture into a piping bag (or a large sandwich bag with one of the corners cut off) and pipe the meringue onto the lined baking trays, or just use a teaspoon and dollop them on.


6. Place the trays of meringue into the oven and lower the oven to 300 °F/150 °C/Gas mark 2. Bake for 2 hours, rotating the trays between oven shelves halfway so that the lower ones bake properly. After the 2 hours, rotate the trays again before turning off the heat and leaving them in the oven to cool for another hour.


7. Once fully cooled, remove the meringues and place on top of a wire rack (if you have one) over a table lined with baking paper or tinfoil.


8. Melt the chocolate in a bowl over a bain marie (bowl resting on a saucepan of simmering water without letting the bowl touch the water). Once fully melted, stir in the salt and allow to cool slightly before putting into a small plastic sandwich. Twist and hold the opening closed firmly in your hand along with one of the bottom corners of the bag. Make a small hole by cutting the other bottom corner of the bag (the one you're not holding that should be pointing away from your hand), and squeeze firmly but gently to pipe the chocolate over the meringues. Alternatively, you can just dip the meringues in the chocolate, or spoon chocolate on top of them.


9. Leave to dry, before storing in an airtight container.

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The unknown occupies some void in our mind's plane of existence. When left to our own devices we tentatively tiptoe into our surroundings, casting our eyes, our minds and our feelings outward; tendrils of our presence and awareness creeping over the landscape, immersing ourselves over the terrain and the spectres lurking in the mist. Strangers and concepts amid the wasteland become known to us, and what was once a tundra filled with nooks and crannies and lurking shadows becomes a field of familiarity. We become encased in a bubble-like shield, our own universe existing as far as our awareness extends. What we know of the world and of ourselves and others become the norm, though fully aware of the presence of long lost secrets and nuggets of truths we leave untouched under the earth. We are safe, in the sunshine of knowledge, our mind's eye confident and sure of each hill, each person, each whisper of a breeze.

But what of the beyond? Once we are versed in things we know of to be true, how willing are we to accept the unknown? The unfathomable, the new, the unprecedented Schrödinger's Cat...? We observe plenty of what we know nothing of, and yet so much more lies beyond even that conscious truth. Flickers of phantasmal knowledge moves constantly around us like a miasma of wisdom and secrets to unlock, waiting to be tapped into. Hidden lies we keep from each other, bridled desires we yearn for, things we leave unsaid. In this parallel realm of unspoken thoughts and lingering emotion, of potential miracles and ways of life, how many lie just beyond our realisation? One can only be in awe; not because of what we know we are ignorant of, but of realising the vast amount of the unknown we aren't even aware of.