By September. My birthday month. The month the air changes and the leaves consider their options and the kitchen shifts from cold soups to warm ones, from grilling to braising, from summer to the long, slow cook of autumn. I love September. Not as much as I love Bayamon, not as much as I love my children, but I love September the way you love a transition — with the excitement of what is coming and the ache of what is leaving.
I am turning fifty-three on the twenty-third. Eduardo will buy me pots. The children will call. Mami will call at 7:23 AM, the minute I was born, because she has done this every year for fifty-two years and she will do it until one of us cannot, and I am not going to think about which one of us that will be because September is not the month for that thought. September is for birthdays and new menus and the first pot of butternut squash soup at the hospital.
Mami first Hartford birthday is coming too — she turns eighty-two in October. I am planning a party. Not a big party — Mami does not want big. She wants small, family, food, no fuss. No fuss is impossible when Carmen is planning because Carmen IS fuss, Carmen is the embodiment of fuss, Carmen was born fussing and will die fussing and the funeral will be fussy and the afterlife will be fussy and there will be pernil at both. But I will try to honor her request. Small. Family. Food. No fuss. And by no fuss I mean I will make pernil and arroz con gandules and pasteles and flan and tostones and it will be beautiful and she will say it is too much and I will say it is not enough and this is our dance, Mami and me. She says too much. I say not enough. The truth is somewhere in between, where the food always is.
Made habichuelas negras tonight — black beans, a departure from my usual pink beans, because Sofia mentioned she had black beans at a Cuban restaurant near campus and liked them. Black beans are not traditional Delgado cooking — we are pink-bean people, rosada people — but I made them with my sofrito and my technique and they came out rich and dark and smoky and Eduardo had three bowls and Mami tasted them and said, These are not our beans. I said, No, Mami, they are Cuban beans. She said, They are good. For Cuban beans. I said, Mami, that is the most generous thing you have said about another culture food. She said, I have my moments. She does. They are rare. They are magnificent.
The night I made those habichuelas negras — the Cuban ones that earned three bowls from Eduardo and the highest possible praise from Mami (“They are good. For Cuban beans.”) — I started thinking about how beans are the most honest food there is: humble, filling, endlessly adaptable, yours if you give them enough love and sofrito. That same energy is what I bring to this Healthy Greek Bean Dip, a recipe I started making when I needed something I could set out at a family gathering without apology, something that would hold its own next to pernil and arroz and the whole beautiful chaos of a Delgado table. It’s not traditional — neither were those black beans — but sometimes the best things aren’t.
Healthy Greek Bean Dip
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 2 cans (15 oz each) white cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
- 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling
- 1/4 cup plain Greek yogurt
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika, plus more for garnish
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 2 tablespoons fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped (for garnish)
- Pita chips, cucumber slices, or crudites for serving
Instructions
- Combine the base. Add the drained cannellini beans, minced garlic, lemon juice, olive oil, and Greek yogurt to the bowl of a food processor.
- Season. Add the cumin, oregano, smoked paprika, and a generous pinch of salt and black pepper.
- Blend. Process until very smooth and creamy, about 60–90 seconds, scraping down the sides as needed. If the dip is too thick, add 1–2 tablespoons of water or additional olive oil and pulse again until you reach your desired consistency.
- Taste and adjust. Sample the dip and adjust seasoning — more lemon for brightness, more salt, more cumin if you like warmth.
- Plate and garnish. Transfer to a shallow serving bowl. Drizzle generously with olive oil, dust with smoked paprika, and scatter the fresh parsley over the top.
- Serve. Serve immediately with pita chips, sliced cucumbers, bell pepper strips, or whatever you have on the table. The dip can also be made ahead and refrigerated, covered, for up to 3 days — the flavors deepen nicely overnight.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 138 | Protein: 7g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 19g | Fiber: 5g | Sodium: 210mg