I love to make hummus. Almost as fun as my magnitude of delight while eating it, is my enjoyment watching other people attempt to do so. Especially someone who's never tried it before, or at least pretended not to anyway. I mean it's not hard to guess what a person thinks the first time they see a bowl of hummus in all it's unadulterated, grainy glory. It looks like a tiny sand dune of ground up oat bran. Or better yet, a big steaming pile of swirled into a whip dog poo. Hmm..tasty! Always the reaction is the same: the nose turns up, the eyes squint in for a closer look. A reluctant sniff inevitability follows. A hint of garlic, some lemon maybe, the smell of fresh cut grass all rolled into one pretty ceramic bowl. What's not to like?
"I made hummus. You want to try some?" I ask my teenage son.
He circles his decision - every single time. At first he says, "No, I don't like hummus," and he scrunches up his face as he sniffs it. "It smells awful."
He leaves it for a minute or two, then comes back again and looks at it. I wait patiently, not saying another word, knowing eventually his path will wander back in the right direction. I pretend to do something else. Maybe I'll even whistle a folksy tune.
He takes a chip and dips it.
"No, I still don't like it."
I wait, patiently pretending to do the dishes.
He tries another, then another until I notice the bowl and chips are gone off the counter and moved into the family room.
I smile to myself.