Hummus-Loving Israelis Debate Whether It’s Kosher

No pork. No shellfish. No mixing of meat and milk. But non-kosher hummus? That’s something new for the Israeli rule book.

A former chief rabbi’s decree that the popular chickpea spread may not always be in compliance with the biblical dietary code has made national headlines, provoked a counter-blast from a rival rabbi, and pushed at least one major hummus manufacturer to check with his supplier that all was kosher.

Rabbi Mordechai Eliahu ruled recently that sesame seeds for tahini, a key ingredient in the ubiquitous Middle Eastern dish, become non-kosher when roasted and shelled by non-Jews.

The ruling can apply to certain other foods as well, said Eliahu aide Rabbi David Lahiani, but focusing on hummus touched a public nerve. Hummus is a dish beloved by rich and poor, Jew and non-Jew, religious and secular.

“It is people’s food,” said Micha Alfasi, a customer at Rahmo, one of Jerusalem’s hummus eateries. “You don’t have to put on after-shave to go out and eat it.”

Hummus is also nutritious, inexpensive at about $3 with all the trimmings, and doesn’t require a knife and fork. It’s scooped up -- Israelis use the Hebrew word lenagev (wiping) -- with bits of pita bread.

There is also an incessant debate about whether the correct way to wipe is to plow down the middle of the plate or to work inward from the rim.

And now, there’s the question of kashrut, or kosherness.

With observant Jews only eating food approved by a kashrut inspector, the ruling could have financial implications for producers.

Rabbi Jonathan Rosenblum, an authority on Israel’s Orthodox Jewish communities, reckons that the policing of food by Israel’s army of paid inspectors is an industry worth about $100 million a year. For food producers, paying for the right kosher certificate to hang on the wall “is like advertising costs,” he said.

Fortunately for those who don’t live by Eliahu’s edicts, a half-dozen other kosher certificates are available, depending on how strict the consumer is. Those issued by the state rabbinate are widely accepted, but aren’t strict enough for some. So food sellers need to know the makeup of their clientele. Lahiani reckons that because of his boss’ ruling, “Thousands of people will stop eating these products now.”

But followers of another former chief rabbi, Ovadia Yosef, are unlikely to be among them. Yosef, who happens to be an old rival of Eliahu, was quick to reject the ruling, telling the daily Maariv flatly that sesame seeds are kosher, no matter who processes them.

Meir Micha, chief of the Pinati hummus company, said Eliahu’s ruling prompted him to check up on all his factories. But he questioned the rabbi’s motive, saying it might stem from a dispute between rival religious camps.

Lahiani insisted the issue was “about Jewish law, period,” and only arose because he inspected a factory where non-Jews were cooking the sesame and asked Eliahu for a ruling.

At Rahmo, in Jerusalem’s Mahane Yehuda market, owner Shmulik Nahmias takes prides in a secret recipe of 51 years’ standing, and says he couldn’t survive without a kosher certificate. But although his tahini is made by non-Jews -- Israeli Arabs, to be precise -- he doesn’t care because his business isn’t under Eliahu’s authority.

In fact, he said, he has started getting his stamp of approval from the state rabbinate because the rabbis he had previously relied on were setting standards that were “too extreme.”

His hummus contains the standard ingredients -- chickpeas, tahini, lemon juice, parsley and garlic, “but the secret is in the process and the amounts,” and nothing will change, he said, standing under a large portrait of Rahmo’s founding father on a kitchen wall.