It doesn't exactly make sense to make hummus--enchiladas would probably be the more appropriate choice--but there has also been a jar of chickpeas staring me down every time I open the fridge these last few days, and I finally caved because I was sick of looking at it.
I finally started buying dried beans and soaking them overnight, a la Laura Ingalls Wilder, or really, a la anyone who (a) wants more control over how mushy or salty the beans get or (b) wants to buy cheap food. So this weekend when I soaked half a pound of chickpeas, I felt quite in touch with my inner pioneer woman and very proud of myself.
But now I realize how very many chickpeas that is, and how very only one of me there is. So they sit in their cute jar, staring up at me longingly from the otherwise empty shelf in the fridge. One day I am going to make an amazing chickpea dish that is daring and directional, but today is not that day. I've worked late every night of this very long week, I'm tired and whiny, blah blah. Fine. I will make hummus. And maybe some chips to go with.
One of the first times I made hummus was when I lived in Grand Rapids. I must have been a junior in college, because Jess and So Hang and I lived in the house on Kellogg street, with our landlord upstairs. One night instead of studying, I decided that the only thing I could possibly do was cook something, so I made hummus.
I remember all of us being in a punchy mood (so maybe we were drinking beer and not studying at all?), and not getting to the food prep until far too late. We turned on the blender well after midnight, only to get worried that the landlord would wake up (it was an old, heaving blender with a creaky motor as loud as our lawnmower), and I ended up scraping all the half-smashed peas out of the blender and into a mixing bowl, where I smashed the rest of them, quietly, by hand with a fork.
I don't know if we ever ate it, but sometimes Jess still teases me about the fork and hummus episode. And I definitely still cook in the middle of the night, though I'm less concerned about noise these day. In this apartment, my landlord lives next door instead of upstairs, so he can't hear a thing.
Hummus
16 oz. cooked chickpeas (or the 15.5 oz can, either one)
one big fat clove of garlic
1/4 C good olive oil, plus a little more
1 tsp. cumin
juice of half a lemon
1/4 tsp. salt, or to taste
warm water
paprika
parsley (for garnish)
In the food processor, whir the first five ingredients all together in this order. I tried to get away with using less olive oil, but I think you really need all of it. I don't care for tahini, which is why you don't see it here, but you could add some. Then, and I swear by this, add in slightly less than 1/4 cup of warm water and turn the food processor on the highest setting for over a minute. It seems excessive, but I really think this is what makes it so billowy and lovely. Add parsley flakes or paprika to make it pretty, and big glug of olive oil before serving.
The only thing is, now that there's tons of air in it, when you go back for the leftovers, it will have sunk a little bit, so warming the hummus or spinning it in the food processor again will give it the same airy texture it had when you first made it. Normally I don't have this problem of leftovers with hummus because I eat it all, but this is a lot of beans here. So I think there will be leftovers. Maybe not many, but still.
Serve with homemade tortilla chips
Homemade tortilla chips
1 package whole-wheat tortillas
olive oil
sea salt
Preheat oven to 405 degrees. Cut the tortillas into eight triangles and line them up on a cookie sheet. Brush with olive oil. Bake for 4 to 6 minutes, or until the edges curl up and the chips start to get brown. Remove chips from oven, sprinkle with sea salt, and let cool before diving in. They'll continue to crisp up as they cool.
For these I just put the chips in one layer on the pizza stone and then brushed oil on top of them before sliding the stone (carefully, carefully) back in the oven. It worked fine, and now I have one less pan to wash.
Serve the hummus with the chips.
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