On Hummus…

Daniel Dolgicer
Aug 22, 2017 · 2 min read

The other day I was writing a short description of myself for AIRBNB, which of course steered me down a long road of introspection. What are the defining moments of my life? And what, if anything, defines me? I recalled with some fondness a particularly gluttonous moment of hummus consumption on the northern edge of Tel Aviv’s Ibn Gvirol street. I came to the realization that of all the foods and foodstuffs of which I’ve been fond, on which I was reared, perhaps what is most comforting for me is a big bowl of hummus. I realized, at this moment, too, that pre-packaged hummus, whether it be Sabra or Cava or some other quasi-hummus chickpea-based spread, doesn’t appeal to me. It’s not like pizza, which is good even if it’s bad. Hummus is good when it’s good; hummus is good because it’s great — not because it’s hummus. The hummus I enjoy can be found on the streets of Tel Aviv and in some elite establishments around Manhattan, Brooklyn, and Queens, not in the aisles of Trader Joe’s. The notion that I’m a hummus snob is perhaps accurate. This entire conversation might seem trivial, although, I extrapolated a life lesson from all this mental commotion, something to behold and bear in mind: in any aspect of life that you consider to be important, you should insist on and seek out and fight for the best, and nothing short of the best, because that’s what you deserve and that’s what makes you happy.

Is that actually a useful takeaway? Or am I victim of my own fatigue and stubborn refusal to go to sleep at 3 AM?

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Daniel Dolgicer

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Cardozo Law school alum. Real estate broker. Native New Yorker. Lived in Israel. Passionate about tomatoes, men’s suits, and big hair. More silly than serious.