A list of where to eat hummus in London would be incomplete without a nod to the Cypriot immigrants who first brought the dish to the mouths of Londoners. Greek-Cypriot restaurant Vrisaki was opened in 1970 in the still Cypriot north London neighbourhood of Palmers Green, and where else can someone order a meze dish of hummus for £3.50? Cypriot hummus includes garlic in addition to lemon and tahini and it has a grainier texture than Lebanese hummus, closer to the Turkish variety that uses less tahini. Competing with the likes of tarama and tzatziki, it is loaded with garlic, though less so than the notoriously punchy tahini mezze (called tahini on the menu, but known in Greek as tashi.) If dining with a large group, it is best to order the hummus as part of the Vrisaski set meze, which offers a colossal amount of food for just £22.95, and can be followed by an equally generous main course servings of tsippoura (grey bream), keftedes (pork and beef meatballs), or kleftiko (lamb shank slow-cooked in white wine).

Opened in 2017, an Arabic sign outside Beit el Zaytoun reads “the form of the olives were different,” a lyric from a song by legendary Lebanese singer Fairouz. The decorative interiors and geometric-patterned tiles give an upmarket feel, but the prices remain reasonable. In addition to hummus (here, hommos) and hummus beiruty, there’s options for shawarma and minced lamb (bil lahme) toppings on the standard hummus. The ordinary hummus is softer and slightly sweeter, and bil lahme, it makes a pleasing contrast to the piquant meat and crunchy nuts. But the hummus beiruty is the winner here. It is relatively smooth, with some texture and bite, and an abundance of lingering herbal, spicy, garlicky flavour. Accompany it with a tamer hindi “mocktail,” whose tamarind acidity and rosewater fragrance makes for a refreshing contrast, and if not just there for the hummus, it is worth ordering from the “home cooking” section. The frikeh bil lahmeh (cracked green wheat with slow-cooked lamb shoulder) is particularly good.

Honoring the chickpea and fava bean breakfast traditions of Damascus at weekends, the msabbaha bil sujik is the standout dish here. Translated as “swimming,” somewhat confusingly, in most of the Levant, msabbaha refers to unblended warm hummus, but here it refers to the spicy minced lamb sujik mix that swims on a silky hummus base. Even with a lighter base, there is no denying it is a hearty, sapid dish. It’s only served at weekends, alongside tiseeya bil samneh, a riot of chickpeas and pita chips in a yogurt tahini sauce topped with spices and hot ghee, and ful bil zeit: fava beans in olive oil. The sweets programme, however, runs all week, and it isn’t to be missed. Try the halawat el-jibn, a semolina and cheese skin filled with orange blossom-flavoured clotted cream, ashta; knaffeh nablusyiah (made with semolina, the original version of the dish hails from the Palestinian city of Nablus), and the slightly chewy-textured pistachio ice-cream. One can also go home with some homemade fruit preserves and fermented chilli shatta imported from Damascus.

Established in 1979, this family-run, Marylebone restaurant proudly advertises its commitment to Egyptian cuisine. The restaurant interior is cosy, and the walls are covered in paintings of historic Cairo’s bustling markets, and of course, the Nile. If eating at lunch, there are often more family members than customers, a gesture towards the intimacy of Egyptian hospitality. The hummus here is necessarily Egyptian-style: slightly more coarse in texture than its Lebanese or Syrian counterpart and tahini-heavy, and topped with a mild and fruity olive oil, the dish’s overall balance is excellent. Whilst the menu isn’t totally devoid of Lebanese influences, one can also order the very Egyptian dishes of mombar, where sausages are stuffed with tomato, chilli and dill rice; the garlicky molokhia soup made with Jew’s mallow; the carbohydrate triple threat of koshari’s rice, lentils, and macaroni with fried onions and spicy tomato sauce; and grilled quails.

On entering Al Enam, diners are immediately struck by the tanoor (clay oven) and grill. The tanoor bread and grilled meats are superb, but the hummus is equally worth a mention. According to the menu, it is prepared “according to the Iraqi recipe.” Whilst Baghdad is famous for a thicker, denser, variety of hummus, this version feels airy, light and fine, and its taste is astonishingly well-balanced. The Lebanese influence? Perhaps, but regardless, the quality of the dish is a welcome indicator of what may follow in a meal there. The lamb livers and lamb ouzi are particularly sensational. 

London-born head chef Helen Graham’s success at Bubala has led to plans for a second location in Soho. Her halloumi with black seed honey has been widely celebrated in the media, but the hummus dish is equally impeccable. After much experimentation over the ideal chickpea-to-tahini ratio, the silkiest form has been masterly achieved. It is garnished with pine nuts, chickpeas, and less conventionally, nutty brown butter; an ingenious touch that is one of co-founder Marc Summers’s contributions to the menu. Laffa, an Iraqi flatbread here produced by Ararat, the lauded baker on Dalston’s Ridley Road Market, provides a wonderfully contrasting dipping device. It is soft and pillowy, but with slightly charred crispiness on pockets of the surface.

Hummus is not an Iranian dish, though Iran’s geographical proximity to the Arabian Peninsula has led to its increasing popularity in the southern regions of the country, as well as Tehran. In London, it is as common to see hummus on an Iranian restaurant menu as it is to see one without it. Still, at a restaurant promising to reinterpret Tehran’s hole-in-the-wall eateries, one might not expect to see hummus on the mazeh section. Berenjak’s hummus is certainly a reinterpretation, with its texture closer to parfait than to a classic hummus, and as the sesame-laced taftoon bread baked in a clay tanoor just minutes before arrives to the table, there’s a definite sense of expectation. The mix combines black chickpeas with Aleppo pepper and green raisins, in addition to tahini and lemon juice. It is adorned with grated and chopped walnuts, and flavour-wise, the dip is layered with quintessentially Iranian fragrant and slightly sweet tones. As the scent of saffron wafts by, and Farsi-language music blasts from the speakers, the frankly delicious dish gets headier and headier.

London’s (natural) wine bar scene is ever growing, and hummus features on many menus. The Nook opened in July 2020, and the kitchen is headed up by Ankara-born Lale Oztek-Pook, who moved to London when she was 25. After training at Cordon Bleu and working in Italian restaurants, at The Nook she began cooking the Turkish food of her heritage, with some twists. She told Eater, “In London, in a wine bar, hummus is going to be popular. I wanted to put my spin on it and make it fun.” The hummus itself is glossy, with the faintest hint of grain, a heavy dose of garlic, a lighter touch of lemon, and a high rate of chickpea in the chickpea-to-tahini ratio. The spin Oztek-Pook speaks of is a pickled naga chilli oil, which adds smoky, fiery, slightly sweet complexity to the dish. It is then garnished with crispy chickpeas, which give crunch and texture. There is no pita or pide ekmek to dip with, but Bread by Bike’s sourdough is sliced thick enough to be up to the task. Lale had not eaten Indian food before moving to London: This hybrid dish truly is a London hummus.