This is one of my husband’s great comfort foods–he’ll happily scoop this dip up with extra thick pita, possibly triggering all sorts of childhood memories. When I married my husband, one of the first things I did was go up to his mother and ask her for the recipes of all his favorite foods. She happily obliged and started off by teaching me how to make hummus, something she learned from HER mother-in-law. It trips me out to think that this family recipe passed from its Jewish Iraqi roots to my Ashkenazi Jewish mother in law, to Korean American me. I’m honored.
This is “the real stuff,” as I know it, and as I have been taught. No adulterations: no black bean hummus or artichoke hummus or black eyed pea hummus or habanero hummus. I’ve made some changes over the years: I’ve increased the lemon and the cumin, and upped the garlic. But the main ingredients that make up a classic hummus are all there.
I’ve come to love this snack (I have always liked it, but now I too find it a happy snack, especially when paired with chicken schnitzel). And I’ve even learned to say it correctly: it’s hummus, with a gutteral “ch” and a “u” like “ooo.” “chooomooos.”
Recipe follows after the jump: