Hummus is one of the most ancient, most delicious foods in the world. Seriously, we mean like, millennia ancient: it was born in the Levant, aka “the Fertile Crescent.”
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Given some thousands of years, it’s no wonder there is a lot of store brand hummus out there. (We know, we’ve tasted a lot of them―some of them are even chocolate-flavored and not horrible.) You probably know the major names: Sabra, Cedar’s, Ithaca, CAVA. Even Boar’s Head has a feisty little line. There’s even a decent selection of store brands out there: Kirkland Signature, 365, Good & Gather. Pretty much wherever chickpeas can be mashed and mixed with tahini, there’s hummus.
Thing is, I’m a bit of a hummus snob. I wouldn’t say expert―I can’t make it. My mom can (and it’s the best―it’s just, it’s the best). But my grandpa was Lebanese, and whenever he visited he’d stop through a heavily Middle Eastern part of town and bring a “mezze” of some of the greatest foods you’ll ever eat. Tabbouleh, falafel, lahmajun, pepper-flecked string cheese drowning in olive oil, my favorite babaganoush, and, of course, hummus. Needless to say, I’ve had some excellent hummus. Really, what’s probably the only snobby thing about me is I have a fairly low opinion of most store bought hummus. So when I read “Lidl has the best hummus hands down,” obviously I had to find some pita (or lavash) and get to dippin’.
Classic Hummus by Lidl
Pros: Most store brands suffer from what I’d call terminal pastiness: they’re too thick, the texture is too tight, they eat like spackle. Lidl’s hummus does not suffer from terminal pastiness, in fact quite the opposite: a lot like my mom’s hummus, it’s actually lighter, silkier, and looser in a way that tastes more traditional. I have asked my mom about her recipe, but as for the differences in store brand textures, my best guess is Lidl’s recipe uses the right amount (as in “more”) tahini, in addition to a delicate amount of (for Lidl, neutral) oil. (Good rule of thumb―not that you eat it this way necessarily―but hummus should not break a potato chip.)
Now the aromatics: even just opening the little tub, you get a whiff of that tahini sesame-laced goodness, plus something that almost reads a bit like sumac.
But perhaps most importantly, you can tell this was made with love. Sorry, I meant garlic. Also, probably, love, considering Lidl’s store brand uses not just garlic but granulated garlic―not that all hummus has to be garlicky, but a hint of garlic, with its seductive aromatics gives a (fleeting) sense of a deeply savory, almost herbaceous desert breeze. The flavor is boldly more tahini-rich than most store brands, but with that gracious savory aromatic garlic note, some brightening citric acid and those mysterious spices. Simple in the sublime way.
Cons: Almost none to speak of. If anything, I kinda wish someone at Lidl had called my mom and used a squeeze of lemon juice instead of citric acid (which is basically lemon juice) because the flavor would be more expressive. It’s definitely the best store brand hummus I’ve ever head―it’s just a degree (or a sprinkling of za’atar) away from lush dimensionality. Otherwise, especially at that Lidl low price, I’ll be buying this for the foreseeable future.
Final Verdict
Yes, opinions on hummus recipes vary―sometimes within the same family, sometimes up to like, shouting-levels. But I think most hummus-lovers would agree, Lidl hit so very close to that elusive sublime hummus mark (it’s a thing). The simplicity of ingredients―chickpeas, tahini (sesame paste), some neutral oils, garlic, citric acid―and the preparation yield a silky but light texture that’s easy to come back to. Pop this in the middle of your mezze, make a well for some good olive oil, sprinkle some za’atar if you’ve got it, and watch it get gobbled up.
Now if only I could find some over-the-counter babaganoush…
Thoughts? Questions? Complete disagreement? Leave a comment!