Grocery shopping with children is surely some subcircle of the hell us Jews don’t believe in. Parents everywhere know that it’s sometimes easier to give in to buying things you don’t want just to get through the checkout line. So when my little girl became attached to a package of dry navy beans at the Piggly Wiggly, I figured $1.89 was a cheap ticket to a peaceful shopping trip. She insisted on cradling her beans like a baby all the way home.
But by the time the rest of the groceries were put away, the bag o’ beans was abandoned for pair of her father’s socks (what can I say, she likes to pretend they’re hand puppets.) If there’s anything about the Yenta you should know, it’s that I do not like to waste food. Blame my mother and her “Starving Children in Ethiopia” routine from my youth: I boil down every chicken carcass for soup, I make my family eat week-old rice, I pick mold spots off bagels before serving them for brunch. And yes, I have been known to exploit those poor hungry African children as motivational tools. Bad Jewish mother. (I always make a fresh meal on Friday nights, so you don’t have to worry about salmonella if you join us for Shabbos some time.)
Even though I’m sure those dry beans had a shelf life well into my menopausal years, my curiosity was piqued. I had only eaten beans out of can or in a burrito and I had no idea what to do with them besides sewing them up into a homemade teddy bear made from old towels and forcing the child who brought them home to sleep with them. El Yenta Man saw me musing over the small hill of beans and said, “You know you have to soak those first, right? Like overnight?” I do now, dear; thanks!
During the beans’ long bath I trolled for bean recipes and found this one for lemon olive hummus. It’s low-fat, super tanga-licious and outrageous on pita triangles (I picked off all the mold spots, promise.) I’m so glad I made a double batch (one bag of beans goes a long way) because we’ll try it on cucumber and feta sandwiches for lunch.
What’s ironic is the blogger who posted it is an Orthodox Christian gourmet from southeast Georgia.
Maybe we should get together and discuss hell over hummus, whaddya think?