In my childhood home we ate couscous only in one way. Hand made and steamed over a pot of soup. It was almost impossible to enter our small kitchen when mom would make couscous. In one bowl there was the semolina that mom would wet slowly while stirring so that no clumps would form.
"What will we have for lunch?” I asked as I was standing in front of the open refrigerator, enjoying the cool breeze that it provided. “I really feel like salad” answered my better half as she sat right across from the air conditioner. “Salad? We eat salad every evening” i said. “Not that kind of salad” she replied, “you know what I mean”.
“Is there nothing else to eat?” I asked opening the pot on the stove. “No” said mom, “sit down and I’ll fix you a plate.” “No,I don’t like it, I’ll make something.” “What will you make?” Mom insisted, “salad” I answered opening the refrigerator. “But salad is not a meal”.
One of the things I like most is finding new recipes or revising old recipes. When we host or are being hosted, these are the times when the joy of creation rests upon me and I turn the guests into guinea pigs for dishes I have never made before. One of the times last year that that we were invited to friends, I asked what we should bring, the answer was a salad. “What do you think about black lentil yam salad?” I asked my better half. “Yam?” she looked at me playfully, “isn’t that one of the vegetables that you don’t eat?”
“No salads?” asked dad as he sat down for dinner on Friday evening. “I didn’t get to it” answered mom, and started detailing what she did get to that day. She cleaned the house, baked two trays of bourekas, 3 trays of cookies and a cake. Even though it might sound like it it was not a lot, we were 5 kids after all.
There are times that I don’t really get what all the fuss about humus. All in all we are talking about a crashed legume with tahini sauce, lemon juice garlic and spices. Sounds like a nice veggie spread, but not something to write home about.
All this instantly forgotten when I sit at the table with fresh made humus in front of me and pickles hot sauce and pita bread along side. At this moment I forget all high end chef’s specials, with their poetic descriptions and indulging in sheer pleasure reserved only for good hummus.