NY hummus addiction
The Bellyful Awards competition is still on, and we’re checking out the Israeli restaurants that have made the greatest contribution
Hello. My name is Halil and I’m an addict. I got involved with a dangerous substance almost by chance eight months ago, and since then it’s been hard for me to stop. Today I’m celebrating four weeks without it, and I hope to be here with you in another month and not to surrender to this dangerous drug.
The décor - if you can call it décor in Hummus Place’s cave on St. Mark’s Place - did nothing to deter me. It’s been a long time since I sat so close to other customers, not to say on top of them. The space between this small restaurant’s tables is so tiny that you have no choice but to listen to your neighbor to the right while he chews, and to hear the fascinating conversation of your neighbor on the left.
I, too, fell into this trap, and it happened completely by accident. It was another busy weekend and I ended up in St. Mark’s Place. I just wanted to eat brunch. But the wait for a table was half an hour at my beloved A7, and with all due respect, I don’t wait in line for thirty minutes for a diner, even if it’s A7. Then G. suggested we go somewhere else, “Here, right around the block.” And that’s how it all began.
I, too, got addicted to the hummus at Hummus Place, and this wasn’t an easy task. Unlike most of the Jewish people, I am not a sworn fan of hummus. I try to avoid foods that look like a cream and whose color varies from beige to gray. But hunger had weakened me so badly that in that eternity that separated me from the food, I was prepared even to eat gefilte fish.
Previous Column
Yaniv Halily
Yaniv Halili explores Big Apple's restaurants, from gourmet to falafel stands; all are examined for their ability to fill his belly
On weekends this is an even more exhilarating experience because all the Israelis in town take over a spot in the cave and gossip about each other. What can you say? It’s two for the price of one: a good meal and a consular report that includes all the births, deaths, and divorces among Israelis living in the city.
But all of this actually pales in light of the hummus, which nothing had prepared me for. There were three types of hummus on the menu (with tehina, fava beans, or pine nuts), and I chose hummus with fava beans because ever since my childhood in a neighborhood with many Iraqi immigrants, I haven’t had the pleasure of eating fava beans.
Within a few minutes a bowl full of hummus landed on my table, bursting with freshness, with well-cooked fava beans cozily resting in the middle and a hard-boiled egg hiding underneath.
The fresh pitas (they have whole wheat, too) were torn in the blink of an eye and in the best tradition of our forefathers, I began to shove into them hummus, fava beans, the egg, a bit of harif (hot sauce), and a spoonful of finely-chopped Israeli salad. What can I say? Whoever said that sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll are the essence of life has not been to Hummus Place, because if you go there you’ll see that the taste of life is hummus, fava beans, and a hard boiled egg.
Some of you will no doubt raise an eyebrow and say that hummus is just hummus, and what’s the big deal? But that’s not the way it is. Hummus, like any other food, can be industrial, full of artificial flavors, boring and depressing, or it can be a true festival of flavors that is no less delicious than the fanciest foods in the most expensive restaurants.
This is more or less the difference between buying white bread in the grocery store and eating bread that just came out of the oven in a fancy bakery. Hummus Place uses a special machine to grind the chick peas, then adds spices and serves it. There is no refrigerator and there are no preservatives or any other reminders of a multi-stage food chain.
But everything has a price, and while a complete meal at Hummus Place does not exceed $20 a person, the price is my expanding paunch. I hadn’t even finished digesting the meal and a trampoline had already appeared on my body that the neighborhood children wanted to jump on in the afternoon. In the weeks following the first visit I kept finding excuses to visit a Hummus Place (there are three of them).
But within a month, when my paunch had entered the Hummus Place on the Upper West Side and I had arrived a half hour later, I realized that something had to be done. The fact that the waitresses recognized me and smiled nicely made me see that I had to take drastic action. Since then I’ve been on a celery diet.
Here are several tips:
Order hummus and Israeli salad because the combination is not only logical, but also a winner. On the other hand, you don’t have to have dessert. While the desserts are reasonable, they could be a bit more creative. My favorite Hummus Place is the one on the Upper West Side, and not just because it’s the most spacious. Go some evening in the middle of the week when it’s less busy and of course less noisy. That way you can avoid the loud Israeli festival and meet the JAPs instead.
Hummus Place
305 Amsterdam Avenue, 212-799-3335
99 MacDougal Street, 212-533-3089
109 St. Mark’s Place, 212-529-9198
Correction
In my previous column I was so excited about Miriam (the restaurant) that I forgot to tell you where it is located. Here are the address and phone number so you can reserve a table, which is recommended because on some evenings the place is packed:
Miriam, 79 Fifth Avenue, Brooklyn, 718-622-2250
Yaniv Halily is the Yedioth Ahronoth reporter in New York. This column was first published by Yediot USA
מומלצים
