If ever you need a barometer for the current mood of the middle classes, simply type a single word into an internet search engine: hummus.

This past week has seen an almighty furore break out with news that Tesco and Sainsbury’s have ditched single-use rigid, plastic lids in favour of a thin, peel-off film on their own-brand hummus pots as part of plans to reduce unnecessary waste.

Under normal circumstances, this kind of environmentally friendly, green-aspiring move would be welcomed with self-righteous open arms. But, alas, not when the integrity of the hallowed hummus hangs in the balance.

While the premise is in line with similar efforts across the food industry, covering everything from bottle tops and carrier bags to cutlery and straws, some furious shoppers have vented that it is “eco-friendliness gone too far”.

The suggestion that customers could buy reusable lids to help keep products in the new-style packaging fresh, appears to have fallen on deaf ears. Certainly, if angry posts on social media are anything to go by.

It is a saga that raises many baffling questions. Chiefly about basic practicality. Are those lamenting the loss of the old-style lids living in homes that don’t have any Tupperware? Not a single tub leftover from a takeaway, washed out to use again?

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Hummus isn’t the only food to come under the new packaging rules, but I don’t see anyone crying over yoghurts and tzatziki dip.

In truth, I have never got the hummus hype. As foods go, it’s arguably the culinary equivalent of magnolia walls. In a world with so many other tasty beige foods (sausage rolls, chips et al) it is a 5/10 at best.

Hummus brings decorating to mind for other reasons too: made badly it can have the consistency of lumpy wallpaper paste. I’m never quite sure if I’m supposed to eat it - or use it to help the host hang a few rolls of William Morris in the downstairs loo.

I remember the great British hummus shortage of 2017, followed by similar scares in 2022 when the vital ingredients of chickpeas and sesame/tahini were in perilous scarce supply.

On the days when fevered rumours swirled that new stock was en route, the deli aisles of M&S and Waitrose quickly resembled a UN food drop. A hummus rights crisis.

At this juncture, I reckon the supermarkets would be just as well employing a full-time team whose sole job is to deal with any hummus-related emergencies that crop up.

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There could even be a special helpline for folk to call and spew fire at a legion of dedicated, AI agents who, in turn, reply with a series of suitably chastised, preprogrammed responses.

Perhaps it’s context? I’ve eaten delicious hummus in Lebanese restaurants, when it was served dusted with paprika and accompanied by freshly baked pita bread. I also very much enjoyed a friend’s recipe for an incredible, flavoursome beetroot version.

The crux of what irks me, if I’m bluntly honest, is that hummus has become a bit of a boring and cliched middle-class status symbol. Like glazed bi-fold doors, underfloor heating and a couple of Range Rovers parked in the driveway.

I feel continually bemused as to why we haven’t hit peak hummus yet. That said, I hear that cottage cheese is having a moment.

Yep, the staple of 1970s dinner parties and 1980s fad diets is back in vogue thanks to the trend for a “viral cottage cheese wrap” doing the rounds on social media.

This basically involves spreading a thin layer of cottage cheese onto a greaseproof paper-lined baking tray, whacking it in the oven and once crispy, using it to make a flatbread-style offering stuffed with vegetables, fish or meat.

Watch out hummus. Cottage cheese is coming for your crown.

Susan Swarbrick is a columnist and freelance writer who specialises in celebrity interviews, TV content and musings on popular culture. She also loves the outdoors and regularly covers sport. Follow her on X @SusanSwarbrick