Dearest Hummus:

The first time I had you was at a party this past summer in Dallas.  I figured it would be a one time thing.  I didn’t know how good you were going to be.

The reason was because you weren’t flavored.  You were described, officially, as “traditional”.  I wasn’t expecting anything exciting from this.  Your package was average.  I didn’t think twice about putting you in my mouth because that is why you existed, right?  Only to find out in process that you made me have a mouth-gasm.

I looked closer at your writing in an explosion of sensations.  You are from Quebec?  What do the French-Canadians know about hummus?  Pretty sure your ancestors are Middle Eastern in origin. 

After our initial encounter I couldn’t get you off my mind.  I tried to find you in Austin but you didn’t exist there.  I had to have other hummuses.  They didn’t taste like you.  My life went on, but with a little tear in my chest every time I went to the store and didn’t see your label.

After months of going without you I got to see you again at Christmas time.  I have to admit that when I saw you there, on the shelf in my mom’s grocer’s freezer, my heart skipped a few beats.  Would you be as amazing like before?  I brought you home to my mom’s house, snuck off in the corner, peeled your lid back, and stuck my bare fingers inside (without using any sort of cracker or carrot).  You tasted just like I remembered.  Divine.  I gazed at your label in adoration:  Fountain Of Health.  I sure loved drinking from your fountain.  I ate your entire container in one sitting.  I didn’t share.

Whole Foods doesn’t have you.  HEB doesn’t have you.  Randalls (that asshole) doesn’t have you.  And alas, I don’t have you either.  At least, I tried.  I drove you home to Austin.  I brought you into MY home.  I knew that Father Time wouldn’t permit us to last forever, as you have an expiration date.   And sure enough after a few days you didn’t taste the same.  That spark, that dewy glow, was gone and you were just like every other hummus I’ve had.  

Let’s remember it like it was the first time when it was new.  At least I won’t longingly mourn for you anymore.  I’ve moved on to other hummus.  I wasn’t going to get specific but I guess I should tell you that the new hummus is named Zach.  Baby Zach.  It’s made in Austin so it’s local.  This is so much easier.  Thank you for understanding.  I know you will understand because you have many other lovers of you, including my original friend who brought you to the party this past summer.  I’m glad we got to share you.  You will live on both in life and in my heart, like, my literal beating heart.  I know these benefits you gave to my insides will live on much longer than the fleeting taste I got to experience and for this I’m forever grateful.  Here’s to health, Fountain Of Health hummus.

Your (former) #1 fan,

Heather