Day 3

Life is good because hummus is so amazingly tasty. I just returned from a lunch date with my best Evanston friend where we had some homemade hummus at a fabulously good (and cheap) Mediterranean restaurant. My husband doesn't really like hummus so I feel like I have to overcompensate and eat enough hummus for the entire family. (Not extended family, however, because my own father passed on this hummus-craving gene.) Afterall, I don't want to have hummus-hating children so it's important that I get the stuff running thick through my veins so that they won't take after their father in that regard -- I'd be more than happy if they get his curly locks and his great sense of humor, among other shining attributes.

Hummus is made from chickpeas, otherwise known as garbanzo beans. It's mixed with tahini, a sesame seed paste, some lemon juice, cumin and garlic. But it tastes so much more complicated than that. Perhaps hummus is to me what fry sauce is to Utah and Idaho natives. For those who don't know, fry sauce is nothing more than a mix of ketchup and mayonnaise (or if you go crazy, bbq sauce, mayonnaise and a touch of seasoning salt). Yet, residents rave about it like it's a secret recipe that can only be made by master chefs (like the cooks at Training Table). It's as though its two ingredients undergo some morphic process that turns it into a rare delicacy ... but it's still just ketchup (or worse, catsup) and mayonnaise, though you don't dare remind a fry sauce fan of that, which I understand because that's sort of the way I am about hummus.

Anyway, life without my husband is going well as long as the hummus is flowing and friends are nearby. The moments in between, however, can be lonely -- productive, but lonely. I miss that guy. But I sure do wish he liked hummus more.