TJ's Pumpkin Spice Hummus Review: THE PUMPKINS HAVE TAKEN OVER

Every year I get shivers. I can feel it in the air, slowly but surely creeping up until one day, somewhere in a faraway land made of nutmeg and woolen scarves, a switch flips. 

PUMPKINS. EVERYWHERE.

You can't escape them. No matter where you turn they suddenly appear. Warty pumpkins, white pumpkins, red pumpkins... MINI pumpkins! Pumpkins you can fit in your frickin' pocket! You'll never be without a pumpkin again!

No longer is good ol' yellow pasta enough. You need pumpkin pasta. You want some regular soap? No you don't. You clean your dirty self with pumpkin soap now. Why give your dog a normal treat when you can give that little piece of crap a pumpkin treat?

It's insane. The list of new pumpkin items each fall seems to get longer and longer, but this year it crossed into territory very dear to my heart. No matter how obnoxious it seemed, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to give Trader Joe's newest offering a shot: Pumpkin Spice Hummus.

Tub size: 8 oz

Price: $3.99

Dippers: Graham crackers, apple slices, 

airline pretzels (all I had)

Going in I was confused what to dip into this questionable hummus. Pita chips felt weird, carrots felt too healthy, and tortilla chips were too salty. I landed on a few solid options, but the fact that I had to really think about it is an instant hummerit for the PSH (as I like to call it). 

As far as flavor goes, it wasn't bad. It definitely skews on the sweet side—sweeter than I would have liked. There's very little garbanzo taste. I liken it to pumpkin pie. In fact, if you were to substitute the PSH for the filling in a pumpkin pie, you could fool me. It's almost spot on.

Hard not to think about the poop emoji

With regard to texture, this hummus performs very well. It's smooth and silky, not too thick and not too thin, not gummy nor dry. So big ups in the viscosity department. However, to eat this hummus consistently starts to feel almost gluttonous. Once I had it in my head that it was pie filling, I started to feel like I was eating my feelings. No crust necessary, just stuffing my face until the tears went away. It brought back painful memories, but hey let's maybe save that for another blog, shall we?

15 pics later I somehow got her attention

Annnnnyways, on a different note, the PSH actually made me realize something completely unrelated to hummus: graham crackers are downright delicious. If you haven't had them since, I don't know, kindergarten, like I hadn't, I'd highly recommend you revisit them. Trust me.

Look, I never expected the PSH to wow me. And it didn't. It does its job as a fun side dish to ring in the new season, but that's about it. If you're looking for a dip you can hum back to time and time again, there are far better options. That said, I'm glad I gave it a try. This one gets 3/5 chickpeas from me, and 5/5 from my newest accomplice, Ladybug.

Ithaca Hummus Mega Review + I'm a Celeb Now

I'd like to take this moment to thank my fans, my followers, the academy. I've officially made it.

Only true celebrities carry umbrellas in the sun

A while back a friend of mine tagged me on Twitter (@atownedown for those wondering) to review one of his favorite hummus brands, Ithaca. Typically this friend's MO online is trolling me, so I was surprised @FloydMoneyMac actually had something of substance to bring to my attention. We got to talking—DMing, as celebs say—and to my delight and surprise, Ithaca Hummus actually jumped into the conversation. I told them I'd be happy to review their product if they sent some my way.

Well, boy did they deliver—literally. Just a week later I received a package filled with six tubs, and coupons to boot! It felt like Christmas in April. Soon after, I set up a mega spread—a potpourri of chickpea, if you will—to give this surprisingly social-media-savvy brand a shot. I should note that I allowed my hummistress, Jamie, to lend a hand in the review process. I've included her ratings, but please take them with a grain of salt as she's nowhere near as experienced as I am, a now nearly verified celebrity with a whopping 192 Twitter followers and literal dozens of views on this blog. Without further adieu… 

Like evaluating fine wine, tasting notes are a must-have

Ithaca Classic Hummus

Strong start, Ithaca—I see you

For me, traditional hummus is a barometer of quality for the other flavors. In Ithaca's case, that's a great thing. Ithaca's Classic Hummus is tasty and full of life. The texture is extremely smooth and pleasing on the tongue. The flavor is bold yet not overwhelming, with a serious lemon zing—perhaps even a tad too much, which is why this hummus doesn't quite get full marks. However, paired with the sharp parmesan crackers, the lemon is a perfect match.

Alex—4.5/5     Jamie—4.4/5     Average—4.45

Ithaca Kalamata Olive Hummus

Again, Jamie's ratings do
 not matter, folks… 

Olives are polarizing. I'm okay with them in small doses, but anything too olivey starts to taste like something that came out the wrong end of a seagull. Here, my aversion to olives really shined—and conversely, so did my hummistress's love for them. To me, this hummus was way too olivey, practically a tapenade. To Jamie, it was perfect. Weirdly enough, we both agreed the texture was on point (the best out of all five), and that it would make a nice sandwich spread. Either way, our grades tell a very different story.

Alex—2.2/5     Jamie—4.5/5     Average—3.35

Ithaca Lemon Dill Hummus

Perfect for dillholes, dillweeds, and more

Talk about pickle vibes… You really have to be into dill to appreciate this one. The bright and grassy dill taste is very strong throughout. There are some lemony undertones, but it's hard to taste anything but the dill. I will say, though, after the intense initial burst of flavor the hummus starts to grow on you—like a really loud shirt you only wear day drinking. Still, it's an acquired taste.

Alex—3/5     Jamie—2.3/5     Average—2.65

Ithaca Roasted Red Pepper Hummus

Did someone say "roasted"
or are you just happy to see me?

Of all the flavors, I had the highest hopes for this one. The color is gorgeous, the texture is right where it needs to be, and something about the word "roasted" really gets me going. Again, though, the flavor was a little too dominant for true hummus greatness. The red pepper is so apparent it kind of takes over everything else. The texture was also by far the creamiest—more like a dip than a hummus. And for those of you sticklers saying, "Alex, hummus IS A DIP," take a hike. YOU are a dipSH**! You understand what I mean. Overall it was decent, but it fell slightly short of expectations.

Alex—3.5/5     Jamie—3/5     Average—3.25

Ithaca Lemon Beet Hummus

I'm not British but that's bloody delicious

WOW. What a surprise. Considering how I fared in my last beet hummus review, I was honestly scared to try another. Boy was I wrong. Right off the bat, the bright pink color took me back to the porcelain throne where I delivered my beet baby so many years before. But this time was different. The first bite was so delicious I almost didn't believe my tongue. Though it looks beety as can be, it tastes far more subtle. The sweetness of the beets is there, along with the tartness of the lemons. Together, they're a match made in hummeaven. Another point in its favor was the lack of earthiness that often comes with beets. I live in Portland now, where "earthy" takes on a whole new meaning—we're talking mushroom-tea-with-organic-soil-and-a-tinge-of-armpit-hair earthy—but this hummus didn't taste like something recycled from a garden co-op. Shockingly, it scored the highest of any in the lineup!

Alex—4.4/5     Jamie—4.7/5     Average—4.55

Overall Impressions

Look, life as a celebrity isn't as easy as it may seem. It's hard to be impartial when a company like Ithaca goes so far out of its way, but I've done my best to give a fair review. At the end of the day, a couple flavors really shined, and others were a little too strong. They're all certainly worth trying in my book, and I still need to get my hands on the Lemon Garlic I've heard so much about. 

I want to give a special shoutout to Ithaca for the package and a thank-you to my fans. The view from the top is nice, but I haven't forgotten about you all, I promise.

Trader Joe's Pickle Hummus: So What's the Big Dill?

It took me a long time to like pickles. I never liked cucumbers, and I never stored vials of pee in the fridge, so putting the two together never made much sense. And growing up, wasn't it always the weirdest kids who liked pickles? They'd yell and scream, stare you dead in the eyes as they licked their desk, torture bugs like it was their job, the list goes on.

So, suffice it to say that Trader Joe's Dill Pickle Hummus was not my first choice, but with my rapidly expanding pallet (and waistband)—and COVID boredom in full force—it felt right.

Look, it's me!

Tub size: 8 oz

Price: $1.99

Dippers: Baby carrots, rice crackers, tried finger and so not worth it

On the initial whiff, it's clear this is not a hummus to take lightly. Peeling back the seal made my nose start to quiver, like opening a fresh can of tennis balls or a container of feta cheese. In terms of appearance, it really doesn't look that different from your typical tub. There are some slight aberrations, "pickles" I assume, but for the most part the hummus is pretty smooth. I will give it that.

However, that got me thinking: a big part of the whole pickle appeal is the crunch, right? This hummus has none of it whatsoever. If I go to the store and purchase a pickle hummus, I'm all in. Give me all the crunch—none of this smooth, pickle puree nonsense. That's one dip demerit on the books.

Look close enough and you can see
 the little specs of disappointment.

Another demerit? The taste is, in a word, bad. This hummus tastes more like pickle juice than it does pickles, which everyone knows is gross (and if you disagree, let's just end our relationship right here and now, via blog). On top of that, the tub started to dehumpose in a week! What a jarring experience that was to open it up and find furry bits of mold. (I would have taken a picture, but my hummistress disposed of it too quickly, and I would NEVER stick my hands in the trash to go after food.)

At the end of the day, I wasn't expecting much from this tub, and it still let me down. And let me tell you, I don't like any tub of hummus gherkin me around. This rating will come as no surprise, but I'm giving Trader Joe's Dill Pickle Hummus a 1.5 chickpeas out of 5. Until next time...

Quarantine Day 20: I Made Hummus

I can only watch so many movies, play so many board games, eat so many weed gummies, do so many half-hearted pushups, and shake so many body parts in my girlfriend’s face before I (and her, long ago) go insane. At a certain point, quarantine just flat-out sucks.

I imagine Goldmember has a jar like this, too.
"That's a keeper!"

So I decided, amid the chaos and stagnation, to do something about it. My first thought? Impulse buy an Xbox, which I did (please God don’t let me get addicted). My second thought? Pick up the yo-yo again, which I did (back to watching poorly shot tutorial videos of men in cargo shorts with neck beards and graphic tees!). My third and most productive thought? Make hummus. Prove to myself that I could, in fact, make a decent version of the dip I’ve critiqued for so long. Could I live up to my own expectations, or would I fall flat on my face and let my ~15 consistent readers down? High stakes, I know...

The first step in making hummus is peeling the chickpeas. Unless you want a chunky, inconsistent texture, it’s important not to skip this—but it takes FOREVER. I listened to the entire Sergeant Pepper’s album in the time it took to peel two fu**** cans of garbanzo beans. It’s a humdrum task, but luckily I had help from my hummistress, Jamie (not pictured since she does not want to be associated with me in any way, shape, or form).

Bet you wish you had Smell-O-Vision

After peeling, it was time for the other main ingredients. We poured tahini, lemon juice, cumin, and salt in the food processor—a truly annoying and traumatic machine (I feel like a dog around a vacuum every time it’s on)—and whipped it baby, whipped it good to a smooth and fluffy texture. Next, we added the chickpeas little by little to combine them.

Now, all this time I had a little trick up my sleeves. Nope, it’s not a rabbit in a hat (sorry!), but it’s a little something to keep things interesting. While my hummistress was busy blending (I leave the dirty work to my assistants), I roasted about 7 cloves of garlic and half a bell pepper at high heat. The smell fresh out of the oven was nothing short of heavenly. The slight char with just a hint of olive oil and sea salt sent my nose spinning with aromas. Do I sound like a pretentious asshole yet? Perfect.

Since there was no way I was going near the food processor, I cowered in the bathroom with earplugs while I waited for Jamie to add the goods. Once that was blended, we were almost hum sweet hum—a little water for texture, some paprika for spice, and a drizzle of olive oil to top things off.

One of Ted Bundy's favorite expressions

Most people would stop here and call it a day, but I’m not a quitter (only when it comes to guitar, piano, football, basketball, baseball, soccer, most books, every diet, skateboard camp in freshman year of high school, Spanish class because my teacher was a total dick, etc.). To do this glorious dip justice, I needed an equally glorious dipper.

I took to the pantry, found some yeast and flour, and set out on a mission to make my own pita bread. A couple hours of rising, kneading, and grilling later, I'd done it. The perfect one-two punch: hummus and pita bread, pita bread and hummus.

THE VERDICT:

I probably sound eerily similar to our president, but overall I'd give myself 5/5 chickpeas through this whole experience. The texture, flavor, and balance of the hummus was perfect, and the addition of the garlic and peppers took it over the top. 

If you have any questions on the process, the recipe, or you just want to chat, drop me a line! I don't have anything better to do, seriously. Until next time...

A few more pics from my historic day:

SOMEONE PLEASE TEACH ME HOW TO FORMAT!!!

Buffalo Hummus: The Only Thing More Disappointing Than Buffalo Bills

Buffalo wings are one of the few things Buffalo, New York is good for. (As of yesterday, clearly football is not one of them. Sorry Bills fans.) They're tangy, zesty, and all-around delicious. So when I saw Trader Joe's new Buffalo Style Hummus hit the shelves, I was pretty excited to give it a try... but boy was I blindsided.

Tub size: 8 oz
Price: $3.99
Dippers: Stacy's Garlic and Parmesan Pita Chips, Crazy Hot Pop Chips, baby carrots

From my very first interaction with this hummus, I was lied to. The label makes a lofty claim it's "smooth and creamy." False. More like "lumpy and runny." The texture falls somewhere between baby food and low-fat cottage cheese, which is as unappetizing as it is difficult to scoop.

Whatchu gon do with all those
 lumps inside yo hump?

The taste left just as much to be desired. Despite being made from organic ingredients, Buffalo "Style" Hummus has a notably fake taste, like cough syrup or an energy drink—which is fitting, because I could have used a burst of energy and an aspirin after just a few bites. There's also a weird cheesy quality to the dip. Maybe it's because I'm used to dipping Buffalo wings in blue cheese, or because it's bright orange. Whatever the case, it threw me off.

The worst part? I brought some serious firepower with my dippers. Stacy's garlic and parm pita chips and Crazy Hot Pop Chips are upper-tier snacks, but dipping them into such a mess was like wearing Gucci shoes with Old Navy jeans. It just doesn't work (not that I'd ever be caught dead wearing Old Navy).

Bills QB Josh Allen after his first bite

Through it all, I've realized two things.

First: Buffalo sauce is not a good enough flavor on its own. Unless you're slathering it onto a wing while watching football, it's gonna let you down.

Second: The Buffalo Bills will always let you down, especially when you're betting on them. Thanks for nothing.

Overall, this pretender of a hummus gets a dismal 1.5 chickpeas out of 5. Better luck next year, champ.

Boar's Head Dark Chocolate Dessert Hummus Review

The legend of chocolate hummus was brought to my attention from faraway lands. I'd heard tales on the cobblestone side streets of Yemen, stories from the shamans of Lebanon, and fables from fisherman across the salty waters of the Red Sea. Of course, as one would with any hummus made by a company with a giant, hairy pig for a mascot, I proceeded with caution—but even with its mystical aura, nothing could have prepared me for such a wonderful, unique treat...


Tub size: 8 oz
Price: $4.99
Dippers: Pretzels, bananas, left pinkie

Like taking off your boxers after a sweaty, uphill walk to your apartment (every. single. damn. day), or taking off your bra after a long day at work (I think?), removing the lid from any new hummus tub is incredibly satisfying. With this one in particular, I didn't know what to expect. As soon as I pulled the seal, I was reminded of my everyday school lunches: sandwich, apple, chips, and of course, like any spoiled white boy, chocolate pudding.

"Mount Chocolate Nipple" in all its glory

The scent conjured up repressed memories of my Chubby Middle School Days, when PE class was a nerve-racking affair, and chocolate goop inside really any container was fair game. Those were dark days. This is dark . . . chocolate hummus. And since that's as good a segue as any, let's move on to the taste.

Taste-wise, the hummus doesn't really taste like hummus at all. If you really think about it, you can taste garbanzo beans, but it's much closer to mousse or some kind of dessert filling—which also makes you feel a little guilty about eating a lot of it. Each successive bite I felt more and more like a baby who wasn't satisfied with anything mommy made. Like this was the only thing that wouldn't make me throw a tantrum. (Did I mention I was a terrible child?)

Thicc AF

All that said, the flavor was all there. I wouldn't recommend anybody eat it too often, but it makes a great afternoon snack or post-dinner treat. However, a word of caution to all who try it: it's sort of a weird feeling dipping anything into a pile of thick brown slop, over and over again. But once you get over it, you'll find this tasty dip one for the ages. I give the Boar's Head Dark Chocolate Dessert Hummus a 3.9/5 chickpeas.

A Spicy Start to 2018: The Flamin’ Hot Hummus Challenge

A few days ago, I realized I hadn't posted on this blog for nearly a year. I couldn't really tell you why, or how, but I can say that a lot in my life has changed since then. I moved to the countryside, I built a ranch house, I started a family. And while absolutely none of that is true, what is true is that I'm still an idiot. Here's why:

Name a more iconic duo. I'll wait. 

Last MLK Day, I celebrated by consuming an entire tub of Trader Joe's Beet Hummus in one sitting. After that horrific experience, I told myself I'd never do something like it again. Well, against my better judgement, this MLK Day I attempted another, even bolder feat to test my hummerit. I know you're thinking, "Alex, how could you possibly outdo yourself after last time?" In fact, loyal HummustSee reader, this MLK day, I celebrated by consuming an entire 10-ounce tub of Sabra Supremely Spicy Hummus, in one sitting, using only Flaming Hot Cheetos as a dipper.

Lucifer's oblong and mangled areola

When I bought the ingredients, I truly believed I could handle this with relative ease. But the closer it got, the more fear I felt. Opening the tub was like looking at what I imagine to be Satan's nipple. A monstrous blob of bright-red chilis stared me dead in the eyes—and it reeked of spice. Then I opened the chips, which, if you've ever opened a fresh bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos, the scent is overwhelming. It's kind of like if a salsa factory farted directly in your face. But, more of a funny fart. Like if your friend toots just a little, and you have a chuckle. No fanning necessary. It's not a room-clearing
blast. Get it? No? Just play along.

The first bite proved delicious. The combination of crunchiness from the Cheetos and smoothness from the dip worked harmoniously. It was spicy, sure, but I felt I could handle it. The other thing about Flaming Hot Cheetos: They grow spicier the more you eat. Unless you take a break with a beverage, you have to keep eating them to soothe your tastebuds, or else they take over.

This dawned on me about midway through the tub. My nose started running, and, even with water, the spice was getting to me. So, just like last time, I reached for a Diet Coke to help me through the second half. What hummentum I had getting through the first 5 ounces was all but gone. I'd reached the point of gagging and plugging my nose. To my senses, the tub had become a baby's diaper, and I, the helpless father, clueless as to how to avoid my son's genitals, all the while wiping away excrement like I knew what I was doing all along (this is a perfect analogy).

Once I got down to the last bit, I attempted to spoon it in large bites. Not a good idea. I almost threw up (twice), but I hummustered enough strength to terminate the tub, finishing the job in under an hour.

I enjoy funny hats

Great, it's all done, right? Wrong. The entire rest of the day—I finished at about 11 a.m.—I needed a toilet within 100 feet. It got to a point where I literally didn't think I had anything left inside. Wrong again (seems to be a theme here). The worst part is, it burns even worse on the way out than it does on the way in. Without getting into too much detail, a whopping 8 HOURS later I had to excuse myself from a fancy dinner with my mom to relieve myself. She knew what I was going through (she understood the pain, but obviously had not experienced this herself), and God bless her she cheered me on like the proud mother she is (SHE WAS NOT PHYSICALLY IN THE BATHROOM WITH ME CHEERING ME ON).

The fact is, when you eat this much of anything, it starts to get gross. I don't care how tough you think you are, but 2/3 of a pound of hummus is quite a lot—let alone that much incredibly spicy hummus. In the past few days I've heard a few people tell me, "I feel like I could do that." If you mean that, I would really love to see you try. Luckily, there's a guy out there who's just thick enough to actually go through with it. At least he's not all bark and no bite.

Happy new year, everybody! Looking forward to doing more of these in 2018!