Avocado hummus

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My friend Iso outright refuses to eat what she considers to be 90s foods. Cous cous, sunblush tomatoes, tortilla wraps, pasta salad – she’s as reluctant to eat as a five-year-old with a plateful of broccoli if you present her with any of those. When telling her about this blog post, she responded, ‘you can add balsamic vinegar to my 90s shitlist too’, rather than dismissing this decade-based aversion.

Why? Who knows. Everyone has their beefs don’t they? Try and get me to eat a Muller Light or one of those Belvita breakfast biscuits, tasty as they may be, and I’ll be having none of it either. Nothing gets my goat like processed food in pseudo-healthy packaging. Or idiot food, as I think of it. There’s nothing good for you about something that’s only low in fat because it’s laced with sugar and E-numbers. Natural yoghurt and fruit is good for you. Or a couple of oatcakes and peanut butter – especially because they come without a patronising dose of ‘hey wimminz, let’s be good and stay thin’ marketing. This is nothing to do with food snobbery, I must add. I’ve got a lot of time for a Pot Noodle and Batchelors chicken and mushroom pasta n’ sauce would make my top ten foods – at least they’re honest about their shitness.

But back to the 90s. Hummus is a defining food of the middle class 90s (and my mother’s second favourite food after spaghetti bolognese). It was as much of a symbol of trendy bourgeoise eating as kale and quinoa are now. It’d be used in jokes as shorthand for ‘they’ve gone posh now they’ve moved down that London’.

So how can we update it this for century and get it past the lips of that particular Isabelle and other 90s haterz? Wang in an avocado, that’s how! Avocados in everything will be as much of a marker of our generation as vol au vonts are to our parents’. If Gwyneth Paltrow were to be made a saint (seems possible) then there’d be a bounty of avocados on her saintly crest (or whatever those lovely pictures of saints on the side of spanish buildings are called).

I suppose this recipe is like a cross between guacamole and hummus, the two top dogs of the dip world if you ask me, so a chopped chilli and a squeeze of lime instead of the lemon would probably be quite nice, but I kept this one on the side of a trad hummus – tahini, garlic, lemon- and I liked its simplicity, with a creamy hint of avocado, slathered on an oatcake and with some pepper for dipping.

One thing I will say though – blending up those chick peas was the straw that broke the camel’s back for my already ailing blender, and I had to finish it off with a potato masher. That worked quite well tbh, so unless you’re the proud owner of a swish and sturdy processor, I’d go 100% masher from the start.

Ingredients – makes as much hummus as a person could possibly want.

1 can of chick peas

1 medium, ripe avocado

Juice of one lemon

1 tablespoon of tahini

100mls of extra virgin olive oil

1 clove of garlic, crushed

sea salt

 

Directions

If you have a blender that can handle more than milkshake, LUCKY YOU! Chuck it all in, except the salt, blend, bob’s your motherfucking uncle.

Otherwise, scoop out the avo into a big bowl, give it a bit of a mash. Add everything else in and pummel that shit with a potato masher until it’s smooth as shop bought hummus.

Whichever method you choose, once you’ve got your mashed up mixture, season with salt, drizzle in a bit more oil if it seems a bit dry, and eat.

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