Essentials: Hummus
Sometimes I recall that I grew up without hummus and am amazed. It seems like such a natural kid-food, but it just wasn’t around in Houston then (now it is—my childhood, we’re talking decades ago now, people). I discovered hummus in my Yankee college town, at a little bakery that slathered it on a large, soft pita and wrapped it up with sliced tomatoes and onions. It dripped all over the place but was heavenly, especially during finals when one’s brain couldn’t be expected to function on dining-hall fare alone.
As a single girl in Manhattan, I had to be careful about buying hummus because I could eat a whole container over the course of an idle afternoon. What began as a little snack would end up a crime scene featuring me splayed out on the sofa with a magazine, eyeing an empty plastic tub and a half-full bag of baby carrots with horror: what have I done? My Lebanese friend warned me that hummus was full of fat. My Israeli friend taught me which brands would do (Sabra) and which would not (all the other ones) and convinced me to buy a vat of tahini. I learned some (some) self-control and self-sufficiency, and now I make my own hummus.
