An Intervention Letter to Kate Moss

Dear Kate Moss,

We’ve never met, but we have many things in common. We are both, for example, skinny and gorgeous international supermodels. But more importantly, as we learned only the other day, we’re both addicted to hummus. I’ve been there, Kate, to that dark and terrible and garlicky and tangy and creamy place you’re now in, and I can help. It’s time I told you about the twelve steps for Hummusoholics:

1. Admit you’re powerless over hummus, and pretty weak at the sight of tahini as well.

2. Believe that only a power greater than yourself—God, say, or anyone who is not a fully-grown woman who weighs less than a gaunt toddler—could deliver you from the pasty menace.

3. Make a decision to turn your will and your life to said power, kindly asking them to refrain from presenting you with pitas or pita-like substances.

4. Make a fearless moral inventory of your life choices, and admit that going from cocaine to Mediterranean spreads is sort of like going from dating Johnny Depp to dating Pete Doherty.

5. Admit to God, to yourself, and to other human beings the exact nature of your wrongs, which, if you think about it, involve being fond of a delicious and healthy dish and consuming the same number of calories the rest of us who aren’t sexy skeletons eat each freakin’ day.

6. Pray to God to remove all these defects of your character, or, at the very least, remove mushrooms, red peppers, and other ungodly substances American manufacturers of hummus en masse insist on inserting into the spread to make it more palatable to people who are deathly allergic to flavor.

7. Make a list of all the people you’ve harmed by looking at them, as they were biting into an apple, say, or a piece of sushi, and saying “you’re going to eat that, fatty?”

8. Then, make amends by inviting all these people to Hummus Place, New York’s best joint, for some Masabacha, which is really the only form of hummus worth consuming. When they ask if you want some schug on the side, say yes.

9. Continue to take personal inventory of your choices and predilections. With a little luck, you may soon discover other forms of food, like cake.

10. Seek, through meditation and prayer to God as you understand Him, to improve your knowledge of hummus. It should never be smooth and creamy, always chunky and rough. And the best way to make good tehini is with lemon juice, not water. And you can never put in enough garlic.

11. And the correct way to consume hummus is with a tear of pita, folded over, facing the plate at a sharp angle and dipping into the spread with a brisk flick of the wrist.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, carry these messages to other hummusoholics and encourage them to continue and enjoy the world’s greatest dish.

Godspeed, Kate, and good luck.