Greek Salad Hummus

If hummus had a fan club, I’d probably be the president.

You know how some people say they bleed guacamole or are basically made of pasta? Well, I’m pretty sure I’m 80% hummus and 20% everything else.

Hummus has a permanent place at my table. It ends up on (or beside) just about everything I make. I’m not the least bit shy about pairing it with breakfast alongside fried eggs and Korean-style glass noodles, spreading it over toasted sourdough, scooping it up with herby crackers, dunking crisp veggie crudités into it, serving it over rice, smearing it onto grilled chicken, or tossing it into pasta salad instead of mayo for a healthier twist. And yes, I’ll happily eat it straight from the bowl with a spoon. You get the idea—hummus isn’t just a dip in my house; it’s practically a food group.

Truthfully, hummus has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. Being half Middle Eastern, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was one of the very first foods my grandmother introduced me to during our Sunday family gatherings.

My grandma was born in Bethlehem, and feeding people wasn’t just something she did—it was her love language. In her world, there was no such thing as “I’ve had enough.” Even when I insisted I couldn’t possibly eat another bite and my pants were beginning to protest under the table, she’d flash that mischievous smile, spoon another helping onto my plate, and say, “Eat some more, please. I know you want to.”

My grandma can no longer remember who she is at times, or who we are… it’s a disease that’s robbed her of many memories; but a lot of who she is is still there. The one constant denominator that continues to permeate through every single pore of her being is her enduring love for “all things food”. I feel that, in an odd way, it’s preserved a “sense of identity” for her.

She still enjoys now, what she used to enjoy then. She loves hummus and can still polish a bowl of really good, real dairy chocolate ice cream. That’s where we’ve built our bond on these days: food. My parents bring her food daily, and talk about food (mostly), and she’s always very animated at meal times as my dad spoon feeds her. Some memories can outlive disease, and we’re so thankful for that little piece of her that’s still very much with us. 

The one thing I’ve learned about the way she made hummus was the ORDER in which things were added to her blender is everything. Always, always add the tahini and lemon first; she would say. At first, I thought there was no rhyme or reason to this methodical madness. But, that’s until I actually started making hummus myself and then I realized the order in which you process the ingredients does make ALL the difference:

1. Tahini and lemon juice go in first!
2. Garlic, olive oil, sea salt, cumin, sumac follow suit!
3. Chickpeas, and more Chickpeas!
4. Icy cold water; at the very end to FLUFF IT UP ~ 1 tbsp give or take

This hummus is a little EXTRA because I decided to Greek it up, AKA decorate it too look pretty and make it even more dip-able. Is that a word? If not, it should be. Because the noun is a very real thing. The best appetizers are dip-able. Or, dippable? In any event- you get exactly what I’m trying to say. Try this, you’ll get exactly why I’m obsessed with this bowl of hummus topped with feta, black olives, organic cucumbers, cherry tomatoes & a drizzle of sumac and olive oil.