Just call me the world’s fifth biggest hypocrite.
I would call myself the world’s number one biggest hypocrite, but with corporate scandals, Martha Stewart, various politicians, I am relegated to the lower ranks of hypocrisy.
For all the hating I do on asian “fusion,” rather f*ew!*sion, you’d think the last thing I’d do, if at all, is eek! around my kitchen like a damned monkey with a bowl of Japanese edamame that I’ve Mediterranean-ly pureed into hummus.
Oh God, I hate myself.
For not only am I a hypocritous little wench, but I am also ig. Nor. Ant.
I have this thing for hummus. It tastes good, sure. But ever since I discovered that I could make an entire bowl of the creamy chickpea puree at home for all of about, oh, I don’t know, seventy-five cents, instead of paying $7.95 for a miniature ice cream scoop-ful at any local Greek or other Mediterranean restaurant, I have been completely obsessed with it. Obsessed, I tell ye.
So obsessed that I drooled all over this past month’s issue of Saveur that had a story about hummus, and did all kinds of nerdy research on the Internets before posting about my creation so that I could provide some truly valuable information at least once on this blog. Yes, the Internets. Get ready to be wowed by my intelli-brilliant expertise in all things hummus.
I, like many of us, thought hummus could be any sort of legume that has been pureed into a dip or spread, and that it just so happened that the most popular version of legume puree is the chickpea version with which I am so obsessed. In fact, I thought I was so breathtakingly brilliant in figuring out that if hummus were merely a puree of legumes, then peanut butter is really a peanut hummus because peanuts are legumes, and refried beans are a pinto bean hummus because beans are legumes, too! And though edamame, young soybeans, are not beans as many of us would mistakenly believe since it has the word “bean” in the name, but oilseeds, they are still legumes, which made them candidates for said “puree of legumes.” I was so smug in my clever sleuthing and deductive prowess. Smug smug smug.
*shakes head* How wrong I was. How wrong we all were. Utterly utterly wrong. It is all…a myth.
Well, good thing I am here to dispel that myth! “Hummus” does not, in fact, mean “puree of,” which is what we uneducated folk might have thought it was. The word “hummus” is Arabic for “chickpea” (or garbanzo bean or ceci bean or chana), so technically, hummus is always made from chickpeas. That certainly deserves to be repeated.
Hummus is always made from chickpeas!
I have been humbled by the Internets.
So technically, you can’t have edamame hummus and think you’re being all clever because it’s a “puree of” edamame. I mean, if I call it edamame hummus, it really should be edamame and chickpeas. It is not. It is only edamame, and technically, it is just “edamame puree,” sans chickpeas, sans “hummus.”
But when I turn into my hypocritous and ignorant self, when I dub myself Iron Chef Creative Master, hummus can still be made from any sort of bean or lentil or legume, and it’s edamame hummus anyway. Forget the Internets and all its wisdom. Let me live in my Kitchen Stadium of Stupid Fusion Hypocrisy and mashup Japanese ingredients with Mediterranean techniques and call it edamame hummus.
Hypocrisy sure tastes good.
Edamame (not) Hummus Recipe
Cook a 12-16 oz. bag of frozen edamame in their pods as directed on the package, then rinse the pods to cool them.
Shell the soybeans. Each individual bean also has a thin, transparent “skin” that you can leave on if you want your hummus to be “rustic” but we all know that “rustic” means you were lazy. Remove the skins. It takes a little bit of time and some dexterity, but what else are you going to do in front of the tv while watching Top Chef?
Puree the shelled and skinned edamame in a food processor with about 1 Tbsp. lemon juice, 1 minced clove garlic, ½ c. water (chicken or vegetable stock will work too), and about 2 Tbsp. sesame oil. Salt and pepper to taste. Regular hummus also has tahini paste (sesame paste), but I didn’t use it because sesame oil is good enough. Use more liquid to thin the hummus to desired consistency.
Yes, I know it looks like a ginormous serving of wasabi. Or green tea ice cream.
Serve the edamame hummus in a large bowl as a dip with chips, or you can get fancy and put little scoops on toasted flatbread, garnished with sesame seeds.
Who Else Made Edamame Hummus:
~ FoodNetwork Kitchen adds tahini
~ Ellie Krieger (at FoodNetwork) adds silken tofu
~ Whole Foods Market calls it an “Edamame Dip”
~ RecipeZaar has one with a Spinach and Garlic twist
~ If you’re too lazy to make it yourself, you’ll have to settle for edamame snacks
** a year ago today, conversation forgave forgettable food at beacon **