Ever heard of the book,
The Kind Diet, by Alicia Silverstone? I believe it might still be on one of the bestseller lists. I found it in the "new releases" section of my library and was excited because I had heard it was excellent and would reaffirm my vegetarianism and my "green" living attempts.
Basically, this book tells you what many other books and documentaries have touted before; that our typical American food is filled with toxic chemicals and is a huge contributor to the breakdown of our planet earth. Silverstone speaks about meat (including poultry and seafood), dairy, white sugar and processed foods in general. As I said, I have heard many of her arguments before and do believe them. That's okay for ME reading the book, but I have to wonder about anyone else learning about this stuff for the first time. First of all, Alicia Silverstone is an
ACTRESS. She is not a researcher, nutritionist or a scientist. Secondly, she is a
HORRIBLE writer. She ends many of her sentences with unnecessary exclamation points which gives you the impression that she is smiling and cheering as she tells you that the beef you are buying for your family is giving your six year old boy boobies.
Aside from the patronizing way she addresses readers, and the barebones evidence to back up a few of her claims, I was really excited to check out the recipes included in the book. I've been vegetarian since I was eighteen and love to try new recipes. The problem I always have is getting my kids to eat my veggie dishes. Actually, I have
two problems. They don't eat anything "suspicious" looking (translation: most vegetarian meals) and they won't eat any meat I serve to them. I can't blame them for not eating the latter. No matter how hard I try, I cannot cook any type of meat to the correct tenderness. I overcook EVERYTHING. I think it's because I don't know what the right texture should be or what it should look like, it is like I am cooking "blind." (or tastebudless) My hamburgers are hockey pucks, meatloaf like bricks. When I cook chicken stir fry, the kids spend ten minutes methodically chewing each piece of meat so they can soften it enough to swallow! Forget about getting pork or steak in my house, I know after I cook it that it will taste lousy, so I don't even bother wasting my money in the first place. I figure that's what "Outback Steakhouse" is for!
Therefore, I needed to find some recipes my kids might actually eat and get some nutrients from. As I flipped through the back pages, I spotted a recipe for hummus. I've been endulging in this delectable middle eastern delight for over twenty years, but the boys have only recently aquired a love for it. Their love affair began when their nana brought home "
Stacy's Naked Pita Chips" and "
Sabre olive oil and pine nut" hummus. She bought the extra-super size products at her local Costco and happily shared them with us on our last visit. Let's just say that for dinner that night and lunch the next day, we feasted and devoured the entire bag of pita chips and basically licked clean the tub of
Sabre.
"Why," I thought to myself, "I could make hummus like that...How hard could it be?" In the next instant I had dragged the blender from the back of the cupboard, retrieved a can of garbanzo beans (chick peas) and a bottle of extra virgin olive oil from the pantry and lemon juice from my fridge. Happily humming to myself, I drained the can of chick peas and dumped them into the blender. As I poured from the bottle of olive oil for one, maybe two seconds, I realized I had forgotten garlic. Because I was lacking fresh garlic, I made do with pre-chopped garlic from a jar. I scooped about one spoonful of the garlic out of the jar and flung it off the spoon on top of the beans. Finally, I added a one to two second pour of lemon juice to the top. "There, that should do it," I murmured. After securing the lid, I pressed "puree." The machine whirred and buzzed for a few seconds as the ingredients were spun around the bottom of the blender. Then, a high-pitched whining emitted from the motor and the blending stopped. I removed the lid and peered inside, finding whole garbanzo beans and garlic on the top. From the outside of the blender, I could see that the lower half of the ingredients were pureed and mixed. I shoved a spoon into the ingredients, gave them a stir and replaced the lid, figuring that would do it. Again, the machine whirred for a second and soon began its high-pitched whine. Hm.... Thinking the consistency was too thick, I decided to add more lemon juice. After dispensing a few drops, and giving the paste a jostle, it still seemed too thick. I lifted the top of the blender off and ran it under the faucet for a few seconds, adding water. That HAD to make it runny enough.
Just incase you haven't noticed, I should probably tell you that not once did I look at the recipe from Alicia Silverstone's book. Not once did I even glance at it. In fact, I do believe it was still on my nightstand next to my bed as I whipped up my concoction. I tend to take certain liberties with recipes, using them as sort of a "map" or "trail guide." Oh, who am I kidding, I use them as dust collectors propped against the "used only once" bread machine! I see a recipe, think, "That sounds yummy!" and then try to recreate it using only my sharp as nails memory. (Anyone who knows me will tell you I cannot remember my own children's names most of the time.)In my defense, I do love to taste the food I am preparing and after "guessing" about how much of each ingredient is needed, I am usually able to make it fabulous by "tweaking" based upon my tongue's preference.
Okay, back to my hummus. The water lay on the top of the pile of partially mixed beans, garlic, lemon juice and oil. I grabbed my spoon to "fold" the water into the mixture, forcing it to the lower part of the container. After the lid was firmly placed I punched the "blend" button. Same result as before. I was losing patience and ready to buy a membership to Costco when I figured it couldn't hurt to "help" the blending process along by pushing the ingredients down toward the blade while it was still running so all the beans would get processed. I pressed the "blend" button again and gently coaxed the beans downward with my wooden spoon over and over until the ingredients began to resemble hummus in both appearance and smell. There were still quite a few lumps in it, and I knew the main reason my boys loved the "Sabre" brand so much was because of its smooth as silk consistency. So, I continued to blend and gently push the mixture with my spoon.
Now, I do realize it is my lack of patience which gave rise to the following incident and I take full responsibility for it. However, if the damn food processor I had received as a wedding gift back in 1995 hadn't "given up the ghost" last winter, lumpy hummus never even would have been an issue!
Of course, I became tired of the steady, structured method of making hummus and proceeded to apply my own. I began pressing the buttons to make the blender go faster, finally hitting "liquify." The machine whirred furiously and emitted satisfyingly loud grinding noises; proof that it was producing a lovely, smooth blend of vegetable spread. Lifing the lid slightly, I could see a few small lumps and uneven patches so I guided the wooden spoon down the side to once again coax the beans toward the madly spinning blade. I began to see more lumps and pushed the spoon in a bit faster. Then, smaller lumps popped up as the blade spun them to the top. Frustrated, I smacked them with spoon again and again, cramming them to the bottom. Suddenly, as the teeth of the blade bit into the wood of the spoon, the utensil was sent richocheting off the sides of the blender and then up to the ceiling and onto the floor with a splat. Hummus was flung into my eyes, up my nose and onto my new Ralph Lauren polo. It had flown into my hair; I could even taste lemon and garlic on my lips. From the celing hung globs of yellowish mush and chunks of it slid slowly down the wood cabinets. I must have been shrieking during the melee as the kids came pounding into the kitchen, breathless to see what I had gotten myself into this time. When they saw the mess that blanketed the kitchen and me, they busted into fits of giggles, pointing and clutching their bellies.
"Stop laughing!" I chastized,
"This is your dinner!" My oldest took one look at the ceiling and shuddered,
"Ewwwwwwwwwwww....." The middle son plainly stated, "
I'm not eatin' that."
Licking my lips and pulling a chunk of hummus from my hair I said,
"Fine, we'll have the kind Nana bought, but you are missing out on this fantastic, homemade kind. Whatever!" No wonder none of their friends ever want to eat over at our house.
Later that evening, as I was relaxing on the sofa and enjoying my homemade hummus with fresh carrots, I felt something catch in my teeth and partially make its way down my throat. I gagged slightly as I pulled a fine, dark brown hair from the back of my tongue.
Maybe I will try to follow the recipe next time.
