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!

Trader Joe's Beet Hummus Review/Bathroom Experiment

By "perishable," they mean you
may perish when eating it

On Monday, January 16th, I celebrated Martin Luther King Jr. Day the only way I knew how: by eating an entire tub of Trader Joe's Beet Hummus in one sitting. I did this both as an experiment to entertain you savages, and also to see what would happen to my urine—and of course, to my stool. Before the results I'd like to say that before eating them, I consider all hummi to be equal. I'd also state that this was one of the most grueling experiences I've been through in my incredibly white-privileged young life. Okay . . . on to the experiment.

From afar, Trader Joe's Beet Hummus has a seductive quality (yes, I'm sexually attracted to hummus). It's not in a can. It's not sliced up in a mediocre salad. It's in its purest form achievable: a deep purple blend of chickpeas in a tight round disc. But once you open the packaging and get a whiff of that violet vomit dip, you realize why people don't typically eat beets. Because they're terrible. That being said, I knew immediately that I needed to test myself to see how much of this mysterious vegetable I could take.

Why did I do this to myself?

The first few bites really weren't bad. Its got a noticeably beety taste, but it wasn't overwhelming (yet). After killing a third of the container I started to loathe the taste—to the point of gagging. The bright purple color, combined with the deer pellet-esque mini beet nuggets scattered throughout, really started to freak me out. I paused to collect myself, then grabbed a spoon to power through. Halfway through I realized I may not be able to physically consume the whole half-pound tub. My roommate suggested a chaser. After much deliberation, I grabbed a Diet Coke and started aggressively spooning the hummus to the back of my throat—not unlike Joey Chestnut or Kobayashi. This was quickly followed with a chug of soda, creating a sweet, carbonated beet taste that was honestly one of the worst of all time. I've eaten dog food before . . . Finishing the tub can only be described in one word: relief. But now commenced a dreadful waiting game.

I waited an entire day to see if my pee would turn red, and nothing. I have never yearned to pee a different color in my life, yet the thought of it not happening was devastating. I didn't even get so

Shout out to my fuzzy navel

much as a musky odor in my urine for an entire day. Tuesday morning, however, proved to be a different story. I sat down on the toilet (at work, mind you) and let go of what felt like a 6-month-old baby. Sort of oblong and misshapen. I stood up like a boy who had just defecated without a diaper for the first time and looked down to admire my creation. Without getting too detailed, let's just say it looked something like Van Gogh's "Starry Night," only bright red and purple. It was absolutely gorgeous. SWEET. BEET. VICTORY.

Now, while this experience certainly taught me a lot, I'll never repeat it, especially with a vegetable I don't enjoy. That being said, I'm impressed at my own willpower and perseverance given how terrible this was to do first thing in the morning on my day off. Trader Joe's Beet Hummus drops a number 2 and goes for a hummiserable 1 out of 5 chickpeas.

Yamba Lemon Garlic Hummus Review

When I think of Whole Foods I think of rich white people who won't settle for anything less than wild salmon at $30 a pound. Of dads in faded jeans and mandals picking up a specialty blend of quinoa and couscous for dinner. Of gluten-free, super food-loving, yoga pants-wearing, soy latte-drinking assholes. And today I joined them.

Just about everything in the hummus section of Whole Foods is organic, vegan, or gluten-free. So I picked up a tub of vegan and gluten-free Yamba Lemon Garlic Hummus to see what the hype was all about. To top it off, I paired the hummus with a bag of "Glutino" (sounds like a disease) gluten-free crackers to really try and understand the mentality of these extraterrestrial eaters.

Tub size: 10 oz
Price: $4.29
Dippers: Glutino Gluten-Free Bagel Chips, carrots, pinkie finger (tip)

Operation Desert Storm

Removing the top of the Yamba tub revealed a curious sight of seeds, herbs, spices, and a dirt-like powder—as if a Mediterranean child farted dust directly on top of it. But this weird assembly of ingredients proved to be the best part of the mediocre hummus. Without it, it falls flat on its face.

The lower layers are incredibly boring. Remember that kid in elementary school who quietly munched on his glue stick in the corner? The one who didn't talk much except to alert everyone he needed to pee. This is the hummus for him. It's got absolutely nothing going for it. The lemon and garlic flavors try desperately to reach the tastebuds, but they never quite make it.

My fish in the background just passed away. He wasn't
 much fun anyways. Not my fault he wouldn't eat #RIP

The consistency leaves much to be desired, too. When it's not fresh out of the fridge, it's got a creepy little jiggle to it. Sort of like when you poke a dead animal, with that little bit of resistance that makes you to think it may have some life left in the tank. Then you realize you're making excuses for the little guy and move on. Like that.

Another thing that bothered me is that the label states "Authentic Israeli Recipe." If you're gonna make a hummus that tastes like an armpit smells, don't slap an entire country's name on it. Hummbelievable disrespect.

Overall, this hummus is pretty bad. It's got the three Bs. Bland, boring, and bigoted. I don't see myself going back to Yamba anytime soon. Both the hummus and the Glutino crackers tasted like they were missing something. Now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure I know what that special something is . . .  it's called gluten. And it's one of my favorite things in the world. The Yamba goes for a lousy 2 chickpeas out of 5. Sorry Israel.

Tribe Swirl: Fiery Sriracha Review

You're getting verrrrrry sleeeeepppyyy

Tub size: 16 oz
Price: $6.99
Dippers: Corn tortilla chips, carrots, finger

Tribe's new series of "Swirl" hummi is unmistakable in the grocery aisle. Looking at the tub from above was like looking into a time warp of swirled flavor. I felt like the hummus was trying to seduce me. If someone had stood there and started spinning it, I may have fallen into that creamy beige dream world and never returned.

When I came back to reality, standing there staring at the orange swirl of "Sriracha"(sorry, but Sriracha is not orange), I grabbed it, deciding in an instant to embrace the gimmick and try it out for myself.

Immediately after cracking off the top of the tub I felt a shiver in my nipples that sent my mind racing back to the days of old. The days when Gogurt, Teddy Graham's, Gushers, and Lunchables occupied the lunch box of every kid in America. That fake, processed feeling that so many companies try to avoid was renewed while taking in the sight before me. Getting past the feeling that this was probably the dumbest hummus I'd ever laid eyes on, I went in with an aggressive chip-to-dip jab, making sure to scoop both hummus and fiery Sriracha.

It doesn't even look like the bottle of Sriracha... 

Wow, not bad. Not bad at all. While it's nothing close to "fiery," it packs enough punch to keep things interesting. As for texture, it's neither too thick nor too thin, sort of like bean dip. But not like a fancy bean dip at a restaurant. More like that really shitty (but amazing) bean dip that sits right in front of the Frito's in the chip aisle. The kind you only buy when you got a little too high and had to make a trip to Safeway because it's the only thing open on a Wednesday night at 2:00 am, that kind of bean dip...

Eating from the swirl was like a mini game. Trying to maintain a good ratio of Sriracha to hummus is an art in itself. There are actually deeper pockets of swirl the further down you go. Sometime's it can be difficult to circhumnavigate, but it adds to the fun. Overall I give the Tribe Swirl: Fiery Sriracha hummus a 3.8 out of 5 chickpeas. Once you get past its kitschy look, you really start to enjoy its deeper humplexities.

The Hummus Guy: Organic Original Review

I was walking through the store last week when I saw a short, curly haired Middle Eastern man staring me dead in the eyes. He was chubby, with a round face and a smug smile that screamed "douchebag" for lack of a better term. He didn't say anything, he simply continued to stare at me until I felt compelled to say something. What came out of my mouth (in the middle of the grocery store, mind you) was this,"You've gotta be f****** kidding me."

After my sudden exclamation I realized that I had just muttered an F-bomb at an inanimate object... The Hummus Guy. Having never been faced with such an audacious challenge to my knowledge and huminion, I was unsure how to react. So, naturally, I grabbed the tub (thumb directly on the man's stubby little nose) and threw it in my cart... challenge accepted.

Before I begin this review I'd like to say that I've attempted to judge this hummus objectively,—despite the pudgy, olive skinned gentleman before me. 

Tub size: 10 oz
Price: 4.00
Dippers: Simply Naked Sea Salt Pita Chips, Carrots, Crunchmaster Multi-Grain Crackers, (middle) finger

How DARE you little man. How dare you confront me like this. To call yourself "The Hummus Guy" in spite of my dedication to the hummus game is utterly blasphummus. I don't care if you grew up in Tunisia (he did), or that your name is Mohamed (pretty authentic), you've waged a war that you most surely will lose. OK... but seriously, as much as looking at this tub annoys me, I have to say, Mohamed...you've done well.

The resemblance is uncanny...

While I'm not typically a fan of regular hummus, organic hummus, or anything vegan, this is an exception. Its texture rides the perfect balance between creaminess and chunkiness, which is difficult to pull off in an organic blend. I've found many organic hummi are thin and watery—which, as a matter of fact, ends up producing a very similar consistency on the toilet. Mohamed clearly has taken his beans into consideration, so we don't end up spilling ours.

It also has just the right amount of flavoring so as not to overpower the chickpea. Each bite leaves a split second lingering of lemon on the tongue. Sort of like a lemon party in your mouth (I think there's a website for that). I wanted to continue to talk smack but my mouth was full of this Jon-Favreau-looking man's hummus. While it took me a few bites to fully understand the complexity of this blend, I have to give it up to Mohamed. The Hummus Guy Original gets 3.9 chickpeas out of 5.

Trader Joe's Hummus Quartet Review

Tub Size: 20 oz
Price: 4.99
Dippers: Trader Joe's Everything Crackers, Pita Chips,
Carrots, banana (tried it- don't recommend), Finger

Wow, it's as if Mozart himself formed a four-piece symphony of hummi in the perfect container. I'm not even sure he would have known a garbanzo bean from a potato, but Trader Joe's surely does.

This tub has everything going for it as far as variety. It comes packed with a whopping 20 OUNCES of hummus (thats 1.25 pounds for those less mathematically gifted). The flavors, starting with the top left section and moving clockwise, are Tomato Basil, Spicy, Roasted Garlic, and Original. With 4 different hummi clocking in at 5 ounces each, this tub has something for everyone.

For the squares, you've got original. For the homies, you've got garlic. For the hipsters, you've got tomato basil. For the thugs, spicy. I rarely dipped twice consecutively in the same section, the allure of a new flavor was too intoxicating to pass up.

That's the beauty of these new age hummus collabs. It kind of like when Drake releases a new track with Nicki Minaj, Lil Wayne, and Dj Khaled. You find yourself shitfaced on the dance floor, rolling dice without a care in the world, girls are shaking muscles in their booty they didn't know they had. The dance floor looks like an African watering hole filled with a pack of hyenas... but good natured hyenas. That's how I would describe this conglomeration of hummi.

My one gripe about the quartet is that once I got to the end of the tub, I found myself struggling to get the last of it. The four separate sections make this hummus difficult to finish off. I felt like a dog struggling to suck peanut butter out of his bone. Like so many other situations in my life, I ended up resorting to the finger.

Overall I give this hummus quartet 4 out of 5 chickpeas. The variety and quality of each hummus complements the others wonderfully. Another pat on the back for Trader Joe's.

Hummus Recall- Sabra Almost Destroyed Us!

 The hummus probably has a better
performance than Adam Sandler

As some of you may have heard, last week some 30,000 Sabra Classic Hummus tubs were recalled due to Listeria Monocytogenes. This may be the biggest event in hummus history since the release of You Don't Mess With the Zohan in 2008.

The official FDA report states, "Listeria monocytogenes is an organism, which can cause serious and sometimes fatal infections in young children, frail or elderly people, and others with weakened immune systems. Although healthy individuals may suffer only short-term symptoms such as high fever, severe headache, stiffness, nausea, abdominal pain and diarrhea, Listeria infection can cause miscarriages and stillbirths among pregnant women."

He prefers Atheno's

Two words jump out here... fatal and diarhhea... 
How could a dip that has been so generous to me, be so cruel to others? What has the garbanzo bean done to deserve such horrible attention? I began to question everything I'd done the past two years as I held my head in my hands while having violent diarrhea on the toilet. 

What ails me most is that Sabra is dominating the category with the most average tasting hummi in the game. When I started experimenting with the chickpea in late 2013, I thought Sabra was a godsend. With so little experience, Sabra took me in like a young Israeli mountain goat. I felt secure in it's hooves until I became older and wiser. After trying dozens of different hummi and gaining real world experience with the dip, I came to my senses. 

While the recall came as a shock to many, I should have seen it coming. As an opponent of Sabra and its mediocrity, I allowed myself a smirk and a chuckle. Sabra is the undisputed leader in the hummus category, one that is growing rapidly in the refrigerated spreads section. Since 2010, annual hummus sales top $325 million and continue to rise throughout the United States. This means that Sabra is making tubloads of money on a dip that doesn't hold a candle to other brands.

Look, I get that some people like Sabra. I don't dislike it, it's what I was raised on. But it doesn't compare to some of the other hummi that Trader Joe's or even Safeway has to offer. It also can lead to headaches, diarrhea, and miscarriages ... So explore the wonderful world of hummus with me and and get out of your comfort zone. You'll thank yourself.


P.S. new reviews coming soon