Chad’s Dad’s Black Bean Hummus

This is what I meant to post when I started the aimless ramble that became the next entry; my recipe for Black Bean Hummus. That entry went off into something else so here it is on it’s own. I got a new food processor for xmas, and of course then needed to make pureed things. […]

This is what I meant to post when I started the aimless ramble that became the next entry; my recipe for Black Bean Hummus. That entry went off into something else so here it is on it’s own.

I got a new food processor for xmas, and of course then needed to make pureed things. I pulled out one of my favorite party-dip recipes, and decided to use it as a side dish with grilled lamb. It works *really* well as a side dish, and really, could not be much better for you with all the beans and lime and so forth.

This dinner was so good, my family demanded the exact same dinner two nights later, which I made, and it turned out even better the second go round.

Chad’s Dad’s Black Bean Hummus

1 15oz can *unseasoned* black beans (you could use fresh cooked, but I never do); drained and lightly rinsed (you can skip the rinse if you want a darker color and beanier flavor)
1/3 cup FRESH SQUEEZED lime juice
1 large clove garlic, chopped or smashed (or more to taste, if everyone’s eating it)
1/2 cup natural-style peanut butter (not that skippy crap)
1-4 jalapenos, chopped and de-seeded (to taste – it will take a LOT of chilis before it starts to taste spicy; I sometimes use serranos, and I’ve used habenros without making it mouth-hurting)
1 whole bunch fresh cilantro, stems removed (you could use parsley if you’re one of those cilantro-hating freaks)
salt to taste (it usually needs quite a bit)

Add garlic and lime to food processor, process until the garlic is well minced. Add peanut butter, and continue to process until smooth, adding water by quarter teaspoons if needed to get the PB moving. Add beans and chilis, and process til smooth (again, adding water if needed). Taste, and adjust salt (and usually, add more chilis). Should be a smooth, spreadable consistency, but not runny. Add cilantro and pulse just til well incorporated; too much processing will turn the dip green.

Garnish with thin lime slices, olives and cilantro leaves, dust with cayenne, drizzle with olive oil, and serve with toasted pita and blue corn chips.

This recipe came to me via my friend Chad, a truly beautiful human being. We used to share season tickets for 49ers games, and every home-game sunday we’d trek to Candlestick Point at ungodly hours of the morning, rain or shine, to tailgate with our crew of friends. These are the people who owned motorhomes just for tailgate parties, the people who’ve been going to games since kezar, the people who go no matter what.

Chad used to bring this wonderful dip once in a while; when I first tried it, I was amazed. What the hell is is, I asked, because it was gray and unlovely. I’m sure I objected, stating that hummus isn’t made from black beans and peanut butter, you can’t call it hummus, but then I tried it and all was forgiven; it’s that fucking good.

Where did you get this recipe, I asked? “From my dad,” he said, and ever since, that’s been it’s name, Chad’s Dad’s Black Bean Hummus; I even contributed it to a cook book under that name one time.

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