You know how some alternative recipes brag that they taste just like the real thing? Well, these ones really do. You can't taste the chickpeas any more than the baking powder through all the peanut butter, chocolate, agave, and vanilla.
Texanerin says this recipe does not taste good without the chocolate chips or cold. She's absolutely right. They're not bad after they've cooled, but they keep that fresh-from-the-oven gooey-ness even at room-temperature, which just feels weird... But hey, even the fourteen-year-old liked them, so I'd say this recipe is for keeps.
*If you're making this recipe from dry chickpeas instead of canned, 1/2 cup of dried beans will make about 1-1/2 cups cooked. It takes more time, but produces less gas.
*Making your own peanut butter is easy: raw peanuts, a little oil, and a little salt in the food processor until smooth.
*For a more uniform chocolate experience, I grated a semisweet chocolate Baker's square (If you don't have one, chop your chips or use cocoa powder and a little extra sweetener).
Now, I keep getting the question: "Are you sure chocolate chips are gluten-free?" Many chocolate chips are made with GF ingredients but not necessarily on GF equipment, so shop depending on your level of sensitivity. If you're wary of cross-contamination, Enjoy Life and Sunspire sell chocolate chips that are both gluten-free and vegan.
My blueberry scones were much less successful.
We could blame it on the fact that we made our own rice flour in a coffee grinder, or we could place the fault squarely on the shoulders of the coconut, but these babies tasted like chalk-dust. (I speak from experience on this one.) Being determined to eat my failures as well as my successes, this was my breakfast for several days in a row (accompanied by a tall glass of homemade nut milk).
Then came the road trip. Halfway to Texas, I was groping blindly through the food box for some delicious, salty trail mix when my fingers fumbled upon some sort of dense powder. As I mentally reviewed the packing list, my curiosity grew. The bag was opened, and an unmistakable odour assaulted my olfactories: coconut. My last scone had bitten the dust, and I felt no guilt in ditching its remains at the next trash receptacle.