I did not discover hummus until my first trip to Israel in the summer of 1967, shortly after the end of the Six Day War. Having been raised in a home where Polish-style food was king, I was oblivious to hummus and the rich assortment of Middle Eastern appetizers I have since come to love.
I can’t remember exactly where and when in Israel I was first introduced to this delicious dip, but having tasted it, I was hooked on heavenly hummus.
Since then, I have eaten hummus in restaurants in Israel, Syria, Egypt, Jordan, Morocco, India and Canada. I have also made it at home, though my version has never been as smooth or as creamy as the best ones I have ordered in restaurants.
A blend of mashed chickpeas and tahini, garnished with olive oil, warm water, garlic, salt and black pepper, this first-class appetizer is scooped up with pita bread and goes down exceptionally well with olives and non-alcoholic beer.
Widely considered to be the national dish of the Middle East, it tends to bring people together, as all fine food should, in theory at least.
During the late 1990s, when Israel and Syria were on the brink of signing a historic peace treaty, Israeli journalists wrote glowing stories of a hopeful future when Israeli tourists would order hummus in Damascus.
Unfortunately, this scenario did not materialize and is still far off in the distance. But in Israel, hummus unites Jews, Muslims and Christians in an aura of gastronomic amity, even if only on a superficial level.
Oren Rosenfeld’s offbeat and engaging documentary, Hummus: The Movie, which is now available on the Chaiflicks streaming platform, taps into this spirit through the stories of three Israeli restaurateurs who serve up hummus of renown.
Eliyahu Shmueli, the fervently religious proprietor of a chain of restaurants, truly believes in the motto of “salvation through hummus.”
Jalil Dabit, a 33-year-old Christian Palestinian from Ramle, a mixed Arab-Jewish town in central Israel, has been making hummus in his father’s restaurant since the age of 13.
Suheila Al-Hndi, a Muslim from Acre, a town north of Haifa that was once a Crusader stronghold, produces an award-winning product.
The film explores their respective lives through hummus, which has been a staple of Middle Eastern cuisine for centuries.
Shmueli was a secular Jew until his embrace of ultra-Orthodox Judaism. He dabbled at dead-end odd jobs until hummus and his wife-to-be beckoned. He visits the tomb of a famous rabbi in Ukraine every year, whipping up hummus on an industrial scale for his fellow pilgrims.
Dabit is a rarity among Palestinian Arabs inasmuch as he studied in a Jewish school. Having followed his girlfriend to Berlin, he divides his time between Israel and Germany, where he opened a popular hummus restaurant.
Al-Hindi, a widow, is “married” to hummus. She inherited her restaurant from her brothers. The hummus she serves is top-notch. She hopes to expand her business.
While Rosenfeld’s exploration of their affinity with hummus is interesting, he does not spend nearly enough time on their recipes and methods. Nor does he delve into the origins of hummus, which could have added heft to his film.
He claims that Abu Ghosh, an Arab town in the foothills near Jerusalem, is the capital of hummus in Israel. Yet he glosses over its restaurants and chefs, leaving a viewer in the dark.
Rosenfeld inserts a clip of Lebanon’s former minister of tourism stating that hummus is a Lebanese invention, but he offers no proof of that claim.
Hummus: The Movie had the potential to rise above the ordinary. But in Rosenfeld’s hands, it misses the opportunity.