"It would be more appropriately named 'Pizza Goldfish: The Dip.'
You may feel confused. So did I.
As I was reaching for my go-to garlic hummus, the demon within that possesses me to dip French fries in vanilla soft-serve and pizza in ranch sauce persuaded me to pick this up instead.
The concept itself is a bit unsettling. The response from Serious Eaters in the office to my announcement that I had obtained "pizza hummus" was unanimous: "Huh? How bizarre."
As for the taste test? Again, responses were mostly ones of confusion—among them, "Weird" and "...Why?" Good question. The label, which boasts "Kid Approved!" betrays Tribe's likely motive: seems like health-conscious mothers have had little success convincing their kids that chickpea paste is better to eat than pizza.
Accordingly, the flavor of the hummus is catered to a kid's palate—like a watered-down marinara sauce with only phantom cheesiness, if any at all. The texture is odd; it manages to be watery and semi-grainy at the same time, perhaps the result of an unfortunate tahini: chickpea ratio (tahini is one of the last ingredients listed).
While another colleague thought it seemed like Tribe put spaghetti and pasta sauce into a blender, I found it more reminiscent of Pizza Goldfish—bland, but relatively pleasing to most palates.
Overall, the pizza hummus was neither a hit nor a miss. I wouldn't buy it again over my traditional favorites, but it might find more success among the kindergarten demographic. I do think it would be more appropriately named "Pizza Goldfish: The Dip."
My tip: Stick with the more classic hummus flavors. And if you really want to taste pizza, get pizza. I'm all about unconventional combinations, but these two American favorites are probably best kept separate.
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