A Recipe and a Read: Homemade Hummus and a Time Travel Romance Read by Author Stella May...

There is a lot ofdebate about the origin of hummus; whether it’s Greek, Egyptian, or Lebanese.It is thought to have originated in Lebanon and traveled all over the MiddleEastern regions. This unique food has been prepared for hundreds of years andis well-loved around the world.

So, what is hummus?Hummus is a bean dip made primarily by blending cooked chickpeas, tahini (a creamy sesame seed paste), garlic,lemon juice, extra virgin olive oil, and seasonings. Once you make it at home,I promise you will never return to store bought.

There are wonderful foodsyou can dip into hummus. They include broccoli, carrot and celery sticks,cauliflower, cukes, pita chips, pretzels, radishes, and any other crunchyveggie. Let your imagination soar.

Stella’s Easy Hummus5-6tbsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice1½ tsp.sea salt2 lg garliccloves, finely minced or grated⅔ cup Tahini 6-8tbsp. ice water3 cupsof cooked (pre-soaked overnight) chickpeas or 30 oz canned chickpeas¼ cupextra virgin olive oil1pinch black pepperpaprikaand freshly chopped parsley for garnish

Ina food processor – combine5 tablespoons lemon juice, salt, and garlic. Pulse to combine then letit rest for a few minutes.

AddTahini and blend until thick and smooth, scraping down the bowl as neededwith a spatula.

Addice water 1 tablespoon at a time with the blender running. Stop and scrapedown the bowl as needed.

Drainthe chickpeas then pour them into the food processor along with theolive oil and pepper. Blend until completely smooth, about 5 minutes. Scrapedown the bowl a couple of times. Add more ice water to reach your desiredconsistency.

Seasonto taste with more salt and lemon juice if needed.

ToServe – transfer to a serving bowl, sprinkle the top with paprikaand sprinkle parsley.

Enjoy!

A jaded CEO. A fiercely focused ballerina. A love that defies all society’s rules.

SoHo,1962

JJMorris, successful CEO, leads a secret double life, playing saxophone to his heart’scontent in his hole-in-the-wall dive bar. Yet he can’t escape the feeling he’sslowly petrifying into just another jaded millionaire. 

Then agorgeous blonde steps into his bar and shakes up his world. Certain this fiercelittle swan of a woman is exactly what’s missing in his life, he maps out aplan to wed her by Christmas. With or without his snobby mother’s approval.

Mostwomen would be thrilled to learn that the tall, handsome bar musician is, infact, a wealthy prince charming. Verochka Osipoff is less than impressed. She’sfocused on becoming a prima ballerina, and everything hinges on her next audition.She can’t afford distractions, especially a rich playboy slumming it in SoHo.

Yet theheat of their attraction melts Verochka’s heart like warm chocolate. But JJ’sworld is a cold, glittering nest of vipers. And their venom could destroy theirlove song before the first movement ends.

EXCERPT

The sound of asaxophone halted her steps. That deep, velvety voice grabbed her by her throat,and refused to let go. Holding her breath, mesmerized, Verochka stopped, then pivoted. Where did it come from? Strainingher ears, she looked around, searching the almost empty street. Guided by herhearing, she glanced at the closed doors on her right. The Broome Street Bar.Inside, the sax murmured its enchanting tale, sad, and touching, andheartbreaking.

Mon Dieu! What must one feel to play like that?

Verochkaclosed her eyesand swayed to the music. Her arms by their own volition lifted and moved in a lazy,unhurried wave. She visualized the dance in her mind, something slow andsensual. Strange, but she never paid attention to jazz before. Then again, she wasnever partial to any music except classical.

To her there was nothing and no onecompared to Tchaikovsky. But the soulful notes of that sax fascinated her asmuch as the famous opening theme from Swan Lake. When the sound trailed off,she felt almost bereft. She craved to hear more. Will the musician play again?Oh, she hopped so. She’d wait for it.

Outside?On the sidewalk at almost ten at night?

Unwise, not to mentionquite dangerous. Granted, this spot in SoHo was not prone to crime. But still.A young woman alone was bound to attract some attention.  Verochkalooked at the closed door of the bar, biting her lip.

To go inside, orcontinue on her way? The wisest thing to do, of course, was to turn around, andgo home, to her tiny apartment. It was late. She must rest before her wake-upcall at 5:30 AM. All morning classes of Madame Valeska started at precisely 6AM, and God forbid if any of the dancers were late even by a minute. The wrathof her teacher definitely equaled to her worldwide fame as a former principal dancerof The Royal Ballet.

Tired after the longday of classes and rehearsals, then cleaning the premises, Verochka barely kept upright. She hated her after- hours janitorialobligations, but promise was a promise. And VerochkaOsipoff never broke her word.

No matter how spentshe was, each and every evening, after all the dancers went home, and theschool was closed, she headed to the closet for a broom and a bucket. At first,she didn’t mind it at all. It was an arrangement made in heaven. An eighteen-year-oldorphan from France, determined to reach her dream, Verochka arrived at the doors of the famous New York ballet schoolwith nothing but fifty dollars to her name and a small satchel that belonged toher father.

After her initialshock faded, the formidable Madame Valeska, the owner of the school, ordered Verochka to change into her leotards,and dance.

Her final verdictdelivered in a grumbling voice was like a heavenly music to Verochka’s ears.

“You have a potential,Miss Osipoff. I’ll take a chance on you, and let you stay for a probationaryperiod of three months. After that, we’ll see.”

Verochka’selation was huge,but temporary. The school was obscenely expensive. No way she was able to affordthe tuition. There was a stipend, but applying for it took only God knew howlong, with no guarantee that it will be granted in the end.

On top of it, she wasa foreigner, all alone in the strange country, and barely able to speakEnglish.

Madame Valeska, quicklyassessing the situation— more accurately, feeling sorry for her— offered Verochka a deal: the education inexchange for cleaning services. A tiny room in the attic as a temporary placeto live was added to that offer. To Verochka,it was like a Christmas gift she could never have dreamt about.

Overwhelmed, moved totears, Verochka grabbed theopportunity with both hands. After a while, she got her stipend for the giftedand unprivileged students, thanks to Madame Valeska’s help, and was able tocover most of her tuition.

The convenience ofliving on the premises saved her the expense of a rent, and occasionalparticipation in corps de ballet’s performances made everything elsemanageable. She didn’t need a lot of food, as her extremely strict diet fell mostlyinto yogurt and fruit category. As to clothes— she learned at her dancing parentsknee the skill to mend tears and repair pointe shoes.

Two years later, Verochka was still living in the attic,and still mopped the floors, and cleaned the premises. But it didn’t matter. Hermain goal to become a prima ballerina of The Royal Ballet took the precedenceover everything else.

Ambitious? Maybe. But,as her father always said, you must dream big. Otherwise, what was the point? So,she dreamed big, and worked like a woman possessed in order to reach thatdream. She was content, and happy, and along the way, fell in love with NewYork, her new home. Her only home. She learned English, and became quite fluentin it, even though her accent stubbornly refused to be erased.

Of course, she missedFrance, and Paris, and small street cafes, and long strolls along the Seine. Oh,the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sprinkled with powdered sugar beignets!Sometimes, she could smell them in her dreams.

But most of all, shemissed her parents. She was sure they were looking at her from heaven, smiling,proud of her accomplishments.

Her occasional nostalgiawas usually sweet, and short, like a children’s lullaby.

But not tonight.

After finishing herduties, Verochka was ambushed by a sadnessso huge, she almost doubled down with it. Suffocated in the large emptybuilding that housed the ballet school, she was lonely, isolated, until shecouldn’t bear another minute longer locked inside. Hence, her impromptu eveningwalk that brought her in the middle of SoHo, to the Broome Street Bar.

The plaintive soundsof sax reached her ears again.

Oh,yeas, please.

Listening to thoseseductive low rumbles, she wondered about the player.

Available at BOOKStoREAD, AMAZON, and GOOGLE PLAY BOOKS.

Stella May is the penname for Marina Sardarova who has a fascinating history you should read on her website.

Stella writes fantasy romance as well as time travel romance. She is the author of 'Till Time Do Us Part, Book 1 in her Upon a Time series, and the stand-alone book Rhapsody in Dreams. Love and family are two cornerstones of her stories and life. Stella’s books are available in e-book and paperback through all major vendors. 
When not writing, Stella enjoys classical music, reading, and long walks along the ocean with her husband. She lives in Jacksonville, Florida with her husband Leo of 25 years and their son George. They are her two best friends and are all partners in their family business. 
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