This could be remedied, Goldberg is aware, by a variety of measures. For one thing, he could implore the loyal health-food shops (Weaver's Way, Essene, etc.) and local Whole Foods Markets that carry it to pop the lid and sample it a little more with, say, crackers, pita, or his own favorite, baby carrots.
Another thing: He might downplay the tofu part, though that might be considered a profanation in the vegan world. (Like most of his product line, sold under the label Helen's Pure Foods, this dip is strictly vegan.) Tweaking the name could have another drawback: It might seem a gesture of disrespect for the spread's originator, Michele D'Ambrosio.
He could do something else, he says, talking to me from his "plant" in a 1930s-vintage grocery store at 301 Ryers Ave., Cheltenham Village, where his walk-in cooler is in the old meat locker. (Talk about Revenge of the Vegans!)
What he could do is: "I should get those blue stickers to put on the tubs." The kind that say 30th Anniversary Edition, or words to that effect. Well, to that let us just say . . . duh.
Except, Goldberg demurs: "They're pretty costly."
The man has no Web site. He forgets to mention until after two interviews that: "Oh, did I mention that we use fresh garlic and fresh parsley?" And, "Did I mention that it's even local tofu," made in this case by Nature Soy, a booming Chinatown expatriate that now makes its products at 10th and Fairmount.
It has imported tahini, too, the sesame paste that confers the nuttiness. (Tahini has doubled in price recently. But Michele's has stayed around $3.69 an eight-ounce tub.) It has lemon and vinegar, which add the brightness. And carrots, of course, for sweetness.
All of which - robo-couped in the proprietary order dictated by Michele D'Ambrosio - make for an almost magical, and surely addictive spread, at once runnier and lighter, brighter and fresher and sweeter than, well, your standard, sturdier, starchier hummus.
