Easy Favorite Hummus

Earl had a bad week. Not a hospital week, thank the Lord — just a bad week. The cold snap hit Monday, down to thirty-eight degrees, which in Savannah is practically arctic, and his joints seized up and his chest got tight and he spent three days in his recliner under a blanket, looking smaller than a man his size should look. I hate it when he looks small. Earl Henderson is not a small man. He is steady and solid and built like the furniture he used to maintain at the hotel, and seeing him shrink into that chair makes me want to fight something, except the thing I'd be fighting is time, and time does not lose.

I kept the house warm. I turned the heat up to seventy-four, which I normally wouldn't do because the electric bill is already too much, but Earl was cold and I would set this house on fire to keep him warm if it came to that. I made soup every day — chicken noodle on Monday, vegetable beef on Tuesday, potato on Wednesday. Warm things. Healing things. The kind of food that wraps around you from the inside and says, "I'm here, baby. I'm not going anywhere."

By Thursday the cold broke and Earl ventured outside. He stood on the porch in the pale January sun and took deep breaths, and the color started coming back, and by Saturday he was walking to the mailbox again. I didn't hover. Hovering makes him feel old and he is old and I am old but neither of us wants to be reminded of it. So I watched from the kitchen window, same as always, and I counted his steps, same as always, and when he came back inside I said, "How was it?" and he said, "The mailbox hasn't moved," and I laughed because that is Earl's humor and it is exactly enough.

I made peanut soup this week, which is not a soup most people think of but which is a gift. It comes from the African cooking traditions that shaped Lowcountry food — peanuts, onion, tomato, a little cayenne, chicken broth, blended smooth, served with rice. It is rich and earthy and it tastes like history. Hattie Pearl didn't make this one — I learned it from a cookbook about Gullah cooking that Denise gave me years ago, and I've made it my own. Every time I eat it, I think about the women who brought these flavors across the ocean in their memories because they couldn't bring anything else. They carried a cuisine in their heads and their hands, and that cuisine became the food I cook today. That is not history you read in a book. That is history you taste in a bowl.

Now go on and feed somebody.

I keep thinking about what I said in that last paragraph — that the women who shaped Lowcountry cooking carried a cuisine in their heads and their hands. Peanuts, chickpeas, lentils: legumes were survival food across the African continent long before they became Sunday supper here in Savannah. This hummus is not the peanut soup, but it comes from the same deep well. Chickpeas blended smooth with tahini and lemon and garlic — earthy and generous and honest, the kind of thing you make when you want to feed someone without making a fuss about it. After the week Earl and I had, honest food was exactly what this house needed.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 cans (15 oz each) chickpeas, drained and rinsed (reserve 1/4 cup liquid)
1/3 cup tahini (well stirred)
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (about 1 large lemon)
2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt, plus more to taste
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for serving
2–4 tablespoons reserved chickpea liquid or cold water, as needed
Paprika and fresh parsley, for garnish
Warm pita bread or cut vegetables, for serving

Instructions

Blend the base. Add the tahini and lemon juice to a food processor and process for about 1 minute until the mixture is thick and creamy, scraping down the sides as needed. This step whips the tahini and gives the hummus its smooth texture.
Add the aromatics. Add the garlic, salt, and cumin to the food processor. Process for another 30 seconds, scraping the sides as needed, until everything is combined and fragrant.
Add the chickpeas. Add half the chickpeas and process for 1 minute. Scrape down the bowl, then add the remaining chickpeas and process for 1 to 2 more minutes until the hummus is very smooth and creamy.
Adjust the consistency. With the processor running, drizzle in the olive oil. Then add the reserved chickpea liquid or cold water, 1 tablespoon at a time, until the hummus reaches your preferred consistency. Taste and adjust salt and lemon as needed.
Serve. Transfer to a shallow serving bowl. Use the back of a spoon to swirl the surface. Drizzle generously with olive oil, sprinkle with paprika and chopped parsley. Serve with warm pita or vegetables. Hummus keeps refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 1 week.

Nutrition (per serving)

Easy Favorite Hummus — When the Pantry Holds History in Its Hands