Tuesday, April 20, 2010

just another monday night

I can't tell you how good it felt to make my hummus last night. All the parts fit perfectly into place, and there really is something exhilarating about watching the blade whip a treat together in just seconds. I used this recipe for hummus as a guide, and it resulted in a garlicky, lemony delight. I'll warn you now: I used 3 cloves of garlic and it really is pungent. I enjoy pungency in my hummus, so I'm perfectly satisfied, but if you have an aversion to heavy garlic flavoring or do a storytime in the afternoon (mine are usually just in the mornings), you might want to lay off a little.
I had some for lunch today in a hummus and veggie wrap (whole wheat tortilla, hummus, spinach, shredded carrots-- yum) and am totally impressed. The recipe makes a ton and it's so much cheaper than buying the containers of pre-made hummus at my Ingles.

For dinner, I made Martha Stewart's Chicken Salad with Mango and Mint*, which I found in my Martha cookbook but is available online here. I had to change a bit, because there's no hint of jicama in my grocery store. I also couldn't find pea shoots or lavash, so I left out the peashoots and substituted naan.

I mixed my dressing of soy sauce, oil, lemon and lime juices, honey, ginger and mint and added it to the chicken. Then I tossed the dressing with my greens (the arugula was looking sketchy this week so I used a mixed greens combination) and snow peas. (Oh, blanched snow peas. I love you.)

I realized I forgot to get the mango ready, so I started to peel it with my vegetable peeler. I guess my hands were slick from the nearly peeled mango, because it slipped and I nicked myself with the veggie peeler.

Disclaimer to my family: I am not about to share a revolting story reminiscent of Nana Irma's about grating knuckles in the pear preserves. Don't worry.

It hurt. It really hurt. I'd gotten the tip of my left pinky, and it was all I could do not to drop the mango in the trash can. I said my signature ouch profanity (several times, actually), and ran to rinse my finger under cold water. While I was applying pressure to stop the bleeding, Edwin found bandaids and neosporin (which was expired, but just since January, so I used it anyway).

Then I talked Edwin through the slicing of the mango into matchsticks. I felt like a surgeon with a mangled hand, and I was feeling impressed with myself for remaining so calm, considering my less-than-charming reaction to the bat last week. It wasn't until we sat down that Edwin informed me that he already knew how to core a mango and didn't need my tutoring, and really, everyone probably knows what to do when a recipe says to create matchsticks.

This little escapade reminded us of the jalapeño incident from a few months back. I was making Sara Foster's Tomato, Cucumber and Feta Salad for the first time and I had finished
slicing up my jalapeño. Fearing a reaction to my skin, I rinsed my fingers under the tap and went about the rest of the recipe preparations.

At some point I inadvertently rubbed the tip of my nose with the back of my hand, and a few seconds later I noticed a sharp prickly sensation on my face. Thinking it must be the jalapeño, I tried rinsing my nose with water, which only spread the pain. By this time I was really suffering, so I rushed to the bathroom to wash my face with facewash. On my way, I barked orders at Edwin to do a quick internet search for home remedies to jalapeño reactions.

EDW reported back: we needed to give the affected areas a milk bath (for future reference, if you want to avoid this problem entirely, you can just rinse your fingers with milk after working with a jalapeño). I was afraid that my fingers were still capable of contaminating my nose, so I made Edwin do the milk rinse. It was stinging inside my nostrils, too, so I begged him to get some up there as well. He ended up soaking cotton balls in milk and stuffing them up my nose while I looked (pitifully, I imagine, and I'm hoping still adorably) up at him with tears streaming down my face.

The jalapeño incident was a real turning point in our marriage. While my nose was plugged with milk-dripping-cotton, Edwin looked down at me and said, "I've never felt closer to you."

So that was my Monday night: hummus in a repaired food processor; pinky finger cut and repair; jalapeño nostalgia. I'm glad there wasn't a bat added to the mix. And that we watched some Glee afterwards. And that I had Moravian Ginger Snaps from Lindsey's wedding weekend for dessert.

For remaining calm, for being willing to rinse my nostrils with milk, for applying bandaids to my bleeding pinky, Edwin is who I choose to be with me in a kitchen crisis. Thanks, EDW, preesh.

Oh and the dinner? The salad was delicious. Refreshing, with varying textures and tastes, and filling. You can't roll naan like you can lavash, so we just ate it with a mixture of forks and fingers (I'm right handed, so my left pinky was nowhere near my plate). I would make this again.

I hope you like it. I made it.

*Stewart, Martha. The Martha Stewart Living Cookbook: The New Classics. "Chicken Salad with Mango and Mint on Flatbread." p. 179


  1. What? No comments? I put milk-soaked cotton balls up the woman's nose! It was epic!

  2. you are a great hubby Edwin ... I hope Nat would do the same for me. That is love.