Humdinger Hummus

About author / Josh Gunn

Bachelor chef; southern cooking; mixologist; university professor. Josh's recipes will delight (and sometimes terrify) you.

The heat has finally let-up here in the Grand Republic of Texas, and so life is increasingly more comfortable outdoors. In fact, I'm typing this on my patio as a cool breeze wafts under my nose, birds chirp, and as the faint sound of Rachmaninov's "Litergy of St. John Chrysostom, Opus 31" hums on my overpriced outdoor speaker. I'm not wearing shoes and the cool concrete feels lovely on my hot feet. And speaking of dogs, my companion Jesús stands guard against the calico cat who taunts him daily by alighting on the fence posts. The garden is springing back to life, the rose bushes are bursting with blooms, and my pepper plants are almost as tall as I am.

As I contemplate this unexpected spring-in-the-fall, I remember how I spent my teenage years outdoors, going to Grateful Dead shows and tailgating, desperately seeking the special spices to better prepare our back-of-the-bus foods (I once had an orange, 1969 Volkswagen bus), and waiting on a miracle. I remember hippies and patchouli and tie-dye (but not me: I was black-clad gothic hippie, so, go figure). I remember meeting women with unshaven legs for the first time and the smell of sandalwood incense and eating alfalfa sprouts and . . . hummus.

In those outdoor teen yesteryears, we ate hummus, and lots of it. We also ate a lot of stuff with names like "Blue Sunrise" and "Technicolor Dream," but I'll save that culinary curiosity for another column. Anyway, in our deadhead tailgating days we ate hummus on carrots and bread and celery. We ate hummus with our fingers. And we thought hummus was cool. Or at least I did because, little did my friends know, it was incredibly easy to make.

One thing that always floored me about hummus eating among the deadhead voyeurs---as opposed to the true-blue, country-crossing deadheads---is that it had this exotic, fetishistic aura. Suburban teens would spend five bucks on the stuff from a fancy market instead of spending two bucks on making a whole quart. Thusly, hummus is a most excellent bachelor food: it tastes great, it appears fancy, and it's super-cheap to whip up!

Hummus is likely a very old food and derives from the Middle East and Mediterranean regions. Although no one really knows how old this dip is, its very simple ingredients---mashed chick peas, sesame tahini, lemon juice, olive oil, garlic, and salt---have been cultivated and eaten by humans for thousands upon thousands of years. Hippies, vegetarians, and other subspecies of the granola family appreciate hummus because if its nutritional qualities: the stuff is high in iron and vitamin C and protein, and owing to the fiber of the chick peas, it can help keep ya regular. Now, hummus can also have a lot of fat, so you cannot eat a whole gallon of the stuff, but eating it moderately as a dip with vegetables or pita bread will not turn you into a hippo.

Try making the following recipe the next time you're invited to a potluck or need to serve an appetizer at a meal for friends. The trick is presentation: serve the hummus in bowl big enough to hold the recipe (medium sized). Take a piece of flatbread and swirl the top of it, then drizzle either olive oil or sesame oil on top. Finally, sprinkle a little paprika on the oil. Fancy! Easy!

Serves/Makes: 6

• 1 can chick peas (garbanzo beans), drained
• 2 tablespoons sesame tahini
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 3 cloves garlic, roughly chopped or minced (or to taste)
• 3 tablespoons olive oil (as needed)
• salt, to taste

***OPTIONAL***

• 1 tablespoon red curry paste (or to taste)
• 1 tablespoon masala (or to taste)
• 1 teaspoon cumin (or to taste)

***For Dipping***

• cut celery, carrots, or flatbread