Tapanade for the Fish Phobic

I am afraid of fish. It’s true. I get that it isn’t logical, that is why it is a phobia. Anyway, for some reason, people put fish into tapanade and it doesn’t need to be there at all. My boyfriend knows of my fear and though I tell him tapanade is really easy to make, he insisted on buying it twice this weekend and both times it was just not good, but didn’t  involve fish products. So, since he spent his holiday weekend helping me garden and generally being a prince, I made some for lunch today. We had it with baguette and manchego and lemonade with added rose water (lovely) out on the deck. He’s now convinced.

Tapanade
-Equal parts black olives and kalamata olives (approximately equal is fine)
-One clove of garlic (or more if you are using more than the equivalent of one can of black olives)
-one sprig of rosemary

Put the clove of garlic and rosemary leaves into a food processer and go at it until they are finely chopped. Add the olives and pluse until the olives are chopped but not too finely. Let it sit at room temp. for a couple hours before serving.

For a “fancy” appetizer, toast baguette slices and then spread a small amount of fig paste (or something like apricot  jam would also work), a nice heap of tapanade and a sprinkle of crumbled goat cheese. Swooning ensues.

There’s no place like hummus.

I had my first taste of hummus when I lived in England. Sainsbury’s brand,  usually, or Safeway’s or a tub from the little supermarket down the street, and they all tasted pretty much the same, that is, *delicious*. We would buy a tub of hummus and a tub of taramasalata pretty much once a week, and eat them on toast or raw veggies or rice cakes  whatever was handy. The only time I was ever disappointed with my hummus was this one time when I was at a vegetarian restaurant. This was back in a time in England when any trip to a cafe or restaurant was a very risky proposal. There was seemingly only about a 30% chance that the people running the restaurant would have the slightest idea about what constituted an acceptable meal, and outside London, the odds went down further. This was a cafe in some little country town like Bicester or Tunbridge Wells, so I should have known better. I ordered some sort of veggies and hummus plate and as soon as I took a bite, my heart sank. Canned hummus. Hummus, out of a can. I know. It doesn’t bear thinking.

So after 13 delirious, hummus-and-tarama filled years in the UK, I moved back to the US and I was pleased to see that in my absence, hummus had been discovered by the Americans and was readily available in all the major supermarkets and minor local delis. My pleasure was short lived, however, after I bought a tub of Sheik or Two Tribes or somesuch crap from the local Shop-Rite, and I was instantly transported back that cafe in Tunbridge Wells and a little part of me died all over again. I tried a couple more brands, and Sabra comes out tops, but nothing like the real thing. So at some point you just have to admit defeat, buy yourself a jar of tahini and get the food processor out.