Help! I’m Obsessed With Soom Tahini

Hi, my name is Adam, and I’m obsessed with tahini. [Hi, Adam.] 

You know, I think I’ve always known I had a problem. [Takes a long pull of cigarette.] There were the heaping cups I’d use when I first started making hummus for my friends in college; then, later, I began putting it on pasta instead of cheese. Maybe my friends and family knew before I did. A lot of Jews have this problem—it’s in our blood (read: tahini is huge in Middle-Eastern cuisine); I guess writing “The Best Jewish Food Cookbooks” could have been a sign, or maybe it was the years of cooking Hanukkah and Rosh Hashanah dinners for my homies. Anyway, I think it’s time to accept that I might be obsessed with tahini. The more I ignore it, the closer it gets. I’m wasting my time.

Tahini is really a simple condiment—it’s just toasted, ground sesame seeds. It has an earthy, savory flavor and an impossibly creamy, luscious texture (at least, the good stuff does). It’s sort of a logical next step from peanut butter, a gateway ingredient if I’ve ever seen one. It makes sense that I can’t get enough of either. My favorite lunch these days is steamed veggies, brown rice or quinoa, and a decadent lemon-tahini dressing that I’ve come to be able to whip up in about 45 seconds (and hot sauce, obviously). It’s muscle memory at this point. 

I’d heard about Soom tahini for a while, as the ultra popular brand is really no secret. I guess I put off trying it, since it was everywhere. But the hype built up and became too great for me. I couldn’t resist. I’d previously been a regular 365 tahini-buyer; or, if I was at the international market, I’d get Ziyad, a perennial banger. Many of my most respected friends and favorite restaurants, however, use Soom; last summer, I visited Philadelphia, and Michael Solomonov’s falafel mecca, Goldie’s, was selling Soom as merchandise. I didn’t seem to be able to escape the pull of Soom, so I gave in. It’s an understatement to say I don’t regret it. It’s absolutely delicious; it has the perfect sesame-rich taste and velvet-thick texture.

I’ve always heavily stocked tahini at home, and Soom is no different. I go through more of it now than ever before—dips, dressings, desserts, Ottolenghi recipes (I dare you to try the “smoky, creamy pasta with burnt aubergine and tahini” from Shelf Love—it’s a miracle). In my household, the tahini never stops flowing. I’m here to say—comically late, but a tahini-obsessive arrives precisely when he means to—that Soom tahini is, indeed, worth the hype. Now that I’ve finally come to own my cosmic love of tahini, I’m hoping it can prevent me from going even deeper… because I know that once I taste chocolate tahini, I’ll be too far gone.

Anyway, it’s time for lunch.

Buy Soom tahini on Amazon. 

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