We’re big hummus fans around here. With ribs of celery, sliced carrots, and the occasional corn chip, we scoop up the hummus in our house. I just read, in a book called Smart Chefs Stay Slim: Lessons in Eating and Living From America’s Best Chefs (big recommendations for this one), that Thomas Keller eats the same lunch almost every day: a bowl of quinoa, mixed with hummus and topped with braised vegetables tossed in vinaigrette. My first thought on reading this was “I need to make this now.” My second thought was, “Hey, that’s gluten-free!” Thank goodness hummus is gluten-free.
However, not all packaged hummus is gluten-free. Those of us who have to worry about cross-contamination can’t just pick up any tub of hummus. This is one of the reasons we’re happy to announce that Sabra is our latest sponsor to join the team.
We feel that Sabra makes the best commercial hummus on the market. Yes, you can make hummus at home, and we frequently do. (Our favorite version of it will appear in our new cookbook, which comes out in 3 months!) But even we don’t make our hummus from scratch every time. In fact, I don’t remember the last time we made hummus. We’ve just been eating Sabra’s hummus, which is gluten-free. Of course.
I’m especially grateful to Sabra for ensuring their hummus is gluten-free when we’re traveling. On our way to Providence, we were stuck in the Detroit airport for four hours, unexpectedly. All the computers in that concourse had stopped working, so no flights could come in or out. (I felt especially bad for the folks trapped in an airplane, 20 feet from the gate, for 4 hours. We didn’t really suffer.) Gluten-free options are notoriously tough in most American airports. I found some Sabra hummus at one little deli and felt a sigh of relief.
We’re also huge fans of the Sabra veggie dip, which is essentially Greek yogurt, diced cucumber, and dill. I think Lucy ate her weight in vegetables this summer by dipping zucchini and summer squash into this dip. Now, in the winter, we use it to make a root vegetable coleslaw.
We hope you make this coleslaw soon. (I feel obligated to remind you that Super Bowl parties are rarely sanctuaries of gluten-free food. This might be a great one to bring for yourself.) And we hope that you support Sabra in their sponsorship of this site (and thus our ability to keep creating it!) by buying their hummus and veggie dip when you have the chance.
Happy hummus, everyone.
ROOT VEGETABLE COLE SLAW (NOT YOUR GRANDMOTHER’S COLE SLAW)
This simple salad is a great way to use all the knobbly root vegetables you might have picked up at the farmers’ market. Maybe you lifted some rutabagas and kohlrabi out of your CSA box and wondered what in the heck to do with them. The winter seems like a lean time for the sumptuous vegetables we grew used to in summer. Learn to love your root vegetables and January grows much easier.
This assemblage of root vegetables would be great with a variety of dressings. But the creaminess of Sabra yogurt dip makes this feel salad feel just a little bit decadent.
1 medium celery root, peeled and grated 1 large kohlrabi, peeled and grated 1 large carrot, peeled and grated 1 turnip, peeled and grated 1 rutabaga, peeled and grated 1 apple, peeled and grated 10 ounces (1 tub) Sabra veggie dip 2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar 2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
Combine all the grated root vegetables in a large bowl.
Stir the rice wine vinegar into the veggie dip. Add the fresh dill and parsley and stir the dressing.
Dress the root vegetables with the herb dressing. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
My husband knows me better than anyone alive. He knows when to look deep into my eyes and hold me when I’m feeling down. He knows to follow that soulful look with a well-placed fart joke to break apart that mood. He knows the moment I need a fresh hot cup of coffee. He knows that we’ll dance if we put on the Beatles, we’ll look at each other and breathe if the kid isn’t listening to us before leaving the house, and we’ll both tear up if Lucy runs to give me a hug after Danny whispers in her ear. He knows that I’m going to keep reading in bed until the moment my head starts to droop over the book. He knows to gently nudge me and tell me it’s time to sleep. He knows when I need to sleep in, even if it is his morning to get up early with Lu.
He knows my rhythms. And he really seems to like me.
This is why he emailed me a new recipe for kale salad the other day. He has been so patient. This past year, I’ve developed a fondness for kale. Okay, that’s not true. As Danny said to me just now, “If I wasn’t in your life, you’d marry kale.” It’s true. I love all kale, but particularly the dark lacinato kale. When we planted our garden, I bought about 20 kale plants. Our friend, who was my gardening consultant, tried to dissuade me. “You really don’t realize how much kale you’re going to have.” I’m still eating it out of our garden. It’s the last greenness in the dark brown dirt. Seriously, I love kale.
And I know that it has now become fashionable to start hating on the kale, saying there are too many kale salads on the menu of every restaurant and we all just need to calm down on the kale. Okay, you calm down on the kale. More kale for me!
Danny scrunches up his forehead when he asks what we should have for dinner, and I casually slip it in. “How about some kale?” (On my behalf, we’re also eating cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower, and so many brussels sprouts that Lu has taken to running around the house saying, “I love brussels sprouts!”) He looks at me long enough to make me laugh, and then I say, “Okay.” But then I come back, “Really, could we have some kale?”
(We had some homemade mayonnaise in the house, so I thinned it out with yuzu and the brine from the tiny nicoise olives I added to the salad. I recommend this. And the sunflower seeds on top, if you like that sort of thing.)