Hummus bi Tahini
Common Elegance

el·e·gance: 1 a : refined grace or dignified propriety : URBANITY b : tasteful richness of design or ornamentation c : dignified gracefulness or restrained beauty of style : POLISH d : scientific precision, neatness, and simplicity — Merriam-Webster OnLine
Can something be simultaneously elegant and humble, classic and ordinary, refined and coarse? When I cast about in my mind for representations of elegance I find that examples such as Bach sonatas, evening gowns, and gem stones occur to me first. A bit more thought and I come up with buildings by Frank Lloyd Wright, sculptures from the Greek Classical period, and Beef Wellington . I don’t think of raw diamonds, songs by Todd Rundgren, or hot dogs.
And yet it seems to me that elegance
To live content with small means, to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion… ~ William Henry Channing
doesn’t necessarily require great investments of money, time, and conscious refinement. Most of you probably are familiar with the illusion of the girl and hag. Some people see the girl first and others see the hag. Whichever we see first, we have to change our focus to see one and then the other. We also have to let go of the expectation our first view imposed on our minds to perceive the previously hidden image — the more difficult trick.
Yesterday afternoon I had a snack of pita bread and humus bi tahini. Every time I make humus I’m reminded of an elegant (there’s that word again) Lebanese lady who once told me I made the best humus she’d eaten in the US. She said, “It’s tart, but not sour. It has good garlic, but not too much. I like the ‘pepperness.’” Here is a dish that couldn’t be more humble or more common. Although eaten by all classes, it’s fundamentally a peasant food consisting of simple and common ingredients and made using simple and common techniques — at least in the Middle East. And yet, it occurred to me yesterday, it’s as elegant as the Lebanese matriarch who complimented me.
Properly made, the core flavors of chick peas, sesame paste, garlic, and lemon all work in a harmony as refined and ethereal as a concerto by Telemann or a cut diamond. But unlike with the concerto or diamond, you must make the same sort of cognitive disconnection and reconnection that you do to perceive the girl or the hag in order to find the lurking elegance in humble humus.
This recipe began with one in the Silver Palate Cookbook but I’ve tweaked it until I arrived at the proportions below.
Humus bi Tahini1 can chick peas (about 2 cups) — drained and well-rinsed
1/4 c tahini
2 cloves garlic, large
5 tbsp fresh lemon juice (about two lemons)
1/4 c olive oil
1 tsp coarse salt
1 tsp ground cumin
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1/4 c warm waterPlace all ingredients except water in a food processor and process for about 2 minutes. Remove lid and scrape down sides. Add water and process briefly again. Scrape down sides. The mixture should be somewhat coarse and not quite runny. Add a bit more water if needed.
Refrigerate for four hours to allow flavors to meld. The consistency will thicken to a firm paste.







Ah, humble hummus. I can eat a ridiculous amount of the stuff like nobody’s business.