Brian is out of town on business this Thursday evening.  As the Smackdown is purely a team event (at least at our house), and it was his week to pick the dish anyway, tonight’s match has been postponed.  Depending on whether or not I decide to wrest my attention away from the blogosphere and actually attend an actual social event with actual living people, there may or may not be a special edition Friday Night Smackdown.  Which I will call something else so the wrestling organization does not sue me.  I mean, look what they did to the World Wildlife Federation – if they’ll go after the pandas, they’ll damn sure come after me.  Heartless motherfuckers.  (Just kidding!  Don’t sue me for libel!)

Anyway, to forestall any gnashing of teeth or rending of garments, I’ll throw you a bone in the form of my favorite hummus recipe. I don’t remember where I learned the key component of this recipe, but I am forever grateful because it allows me to produce Middle Eastern restaurant-quality hummus in my very own home using canned chickpeas.

The key: getting the skins off the chickpeas.  Processing the peas avec le skin is why the texture of your homemade hummus is never as good as the stuff from the kabob shack (you know it’s true).  I have been known to individually pluck the skins off with my fingers, but you can just stir the peas around in a pot of boiling water.  The skins, loosely attached to begin with, will come off and float obligingly to the top so you can fish them out with a spoon.

For one 15 ounce can of flayed chickpeas (drained, but save the liquid), you’ll need 1/3 of a cup of tahini (I like Joyva the best), 3 cloves of garlic,  and salt, lemon juice and olive oil to taste.  First, whiz just the tahini, garlic and a few squirts of lemon juice and tablespoons of olive oil until they lighten in color and form a smooth paste.  Add the chickpeas and blend again until smooth and pale beige.  Taste, and adjust the lemon and salt to your liking.  If the hummus is too thick, which it probably will be, thin it with the reserved chickpea water.

Now you can save up the $1.50 you spend at Adnan’s Falafel House every week until you have enough to buy me a present.