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Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cooking. Show all posts

Things that are cool in Israel #12: Boureka Laws (with boureka and freezer puff pastry dough vocab lists)



Every once in a while, just when we start feeling Israeli, something new comes along that honestly charms the pants off of me all over again. Something like… the Boureka Law.

Yup, that’s really a thing. Read on to find out.

Tummy rumbles 

For supper tonight, at NR's request, we're making homemade bourekas. We bought the pastry and now we just have to make a bunch of fillings and bake them up. In case you're wondering, there are a million kinds of freezer pastry here. Probably in North America as well, but there, most of them weren't kosher. Usually, we just

What should you bring on aliyah? What should you leave behind?

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Should you bring Ziploc baggies?  What about furniture and appliances?  One question every single oleh is going to have to face before moving to Israel is – what should I bring with me?

So I thought I’d turn to the real experts – olim who are already here. I asked the following question on two major aliyah groups on Facebook:

What ONE item did you (or should you) have brought with you when you made aliyah? Bonus: what ONE item did you bring that turned out to be utterly useless? (ours was snowsuits!!!)

I’ve divided up the responses into categories to make it easier for you to read. But essentially, there's no one answer that works for everybody. Some people bring several lifts' worth of items, others come with just a backpack.

The advice here is also sometimes contradictory. I’ve met people who say, “Don’t bother bringing anything major, you can get everything here.” And then there are others who tell you to bring everything you possibly can. It really depends on who you are and regardless of what other people’s experiences have been, what you choose to bring is up to you.

That said, hopefully we can all learn something from what people chose to bring (or what they regret bringing...).  Spoiler alert – not one person mentioned ziploc baggies.  Or toilet paper, tuna, chocolate chips, or any one of a huge range of items that they would have been begging for 10, 20, or 30 years ago.  You can get zipper bags of various kinds (though they’re still not very good, in my opinion!), the tuna is excellent, and they even have Godiva chocolate for sale here now.

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(Mmm… I saw these in a store the exact DAY my husband surprised me by showing up with one as a Rosh Hashanah present!)

Here are the major categories of people’s MUST-BRING items as well as their aliyah REGRETS.

The very biggest regret, hands-down, is a category

Things that are weird in Israel #10: Celery

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Does my hand look disgusted in this picture?

It should.

This is a stalk of what passes for “celery” in most parts of Israel.

The celery here came as a bit of a surprise, because of what everybody (truthfully) says about the produce here in Israel – which is almost universally fantastic.

Almost.

We have found a few exceptions. 

Early oranges, for example, are not inspiring in the least.  But they sell like crazy anyway, because people are so eager for oranges after months without them.

The cucumbers here are tasty, but they are tiny, more like little pickles than a full-blooded cucumber.  Most people don’t bother peeling them, making them a convenient snack (for most people). 

But in me, the peeling habit has become ingrained, making them a totally annoying treat.  I’ve read too much about all the pesticides and bad stuff in the peels to just munch away on them.  So I have to peel and slice four of them to have enough to serve even me and the kids.  (slicing is optional, I admit)

And as for celery…

When chummus comes a-knocking…

image Ya know, it’s the worst cliché about Israeli society, but like many bad clichés, it turns out to be a true one: 

Israelis love them their chummus.

When I saw this truck parked outside our building this morning, I called Akiva to take its picture.  Just too funny to think about chummus being delivered to your door in just about the biggest truck I’ve seen since moving here.

I got so excited when I saw this. I imagined some sort of spigot at the back where you could just get the stuff on tap, but Naomi Rivka said, very seriously, "no, you need olive oil." Hmm... maybe from a separate tap?

image In the crazy Adam Sandler movie, You Don’t Mess With the Zohan, he plays a chummus-obsessed former Mossad agent who moves to America and reveals that all he wants to do is style women’s hair.

And he LOVES chummus, at one point even going so far as to use it as a hair styling product.

In that, he’s a typical Israeli, which I suppose was the idea in the first place.

Me, I don’t even like the WORD chummus, because, in English-speaking countries, they call it “humus.”  Little suspecting that there is ALREADY a word “humus” in English, and this is what it looks like:

humus

(photo credit:  Wolfgang Berger, via flickr)

Ew.  Just a little too close for comfort.

So even back in Canada, I made an effort to pronounce it right:  “chhhhhoooo-mooos.”  With a topping of “techeeeeena” - no Anglicized taheeeneee for me.

When we did our little home matzah-baking workshop before Pesach, I bought a variety of condiments for the kids to enjoy on their homemade matzah:  butter, cream cheese… and, as an afterthought, chummus.

Let me tell you, there was no other condiment in the WORLD, as far as the Israeli kids were concerned, that could top the chummus.   They didn’t even glance at the butter (my kids’ choice) or cream cheese; just shmeared their matzahs with great generous dollops of chick-pea lotion. 

Like, I had to bring out more knives so they could devour it with greater rapidity.  Children don’t lie:  they are the true harbingers of Israeli culture.

So this might be a good time to mention that I don’t like chummus? 

Not just the word, the foodstuff.  It’s not exactly true; I’m coming around and will tolerate a streak of it in a falafel or wherever.  Even better if it’s tinged with roasted red pepper or something else to give it an actual non-grimy taste.

You heard me – grimy.  And don’t tell me you can “brighten” the flavour with lemon juice, garlic, olive oil, paprika, hair tonic or puppydog toenails.   I have MADE chummus that other people have told me is fantastic, and I still didn’t like it.  So don’t tell me I haven’t met the right chummus yet.

My favourite homemade “chummus” back in Toronto, when I still had a food processor, was made with black beans.  Second best, kidney beans.  Actual chummus made with chummus aka chick peas aka garbanzo beans (ew, garbage-o beans!), came a very distant ninetieth.

Like humus, chummus is not particularly photogenic.  If you ask Wikipedia what it looks like, you’ll find out soon enough…

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(photo credit:  Donovan Govan via Wikimedia)

(I love the looming shadow on that picture, as if the chummus is evilly plotting to kill you in your sleep.)

Various attempts are often made to disguise it with condiments.  These often end up just making things worse.

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(photo credit:  Gilabrand via Wikimedia)

It seems that there is even no word for chick peas in this country – it’s all just chummus.  The bagged chick peas in the freezer section of the grocery store:  chummus.  The dried beans lurking on the shelf:  chummus.  I imagine if you could find them in tins, those, too, would be chummus. 

It’s all just chummus waiting to happen.

I know it’s ubiquitous throughout the middle east, but really, there is no more Israeli food than chummus.  It’s cheap, plentiful, supremely nutritious, savoury and goes with almost anything (if by “goes” you mean, “contributes a grimy taste”).

So in honour of Israel’s 66th birthday, let’s raise up a glass… of this quintessential Israeli food!  Or just style our hair with it and say le’chaim.  Oh, yummy yum.  I just can’t wait!

Pesach “balloons” of happiness…

IMG_00004379 Welcome to my shiny-weird Israeli Pesach kitchen.

I’m calling it a kitchenETTE.  Notice I’ve brought our transformer into the kitchen… I left behind most of our kitchen appliances in Canada, but decided to pack along the Pesach mixer and hand blender, for some reason.  I’m grateful to have them.

A few night ago, I started worrying.  Why?  Our balonim.

Huh?  Balloons???  Yup, gas balloons. 

Basically, in Canada, when you have a gas stove, dryer or any other appliance, the gas comes in a pipe from some mysterious unknown place.  The supply is pretty much infinite, like turning on tap water. 

Here, it’s not quite so simple.  Instead, every home owner or apartment renter, if they want gas, contact one of several gas suppliers to obtain “balloons.” 

I first learned about balonim courtesy of Batya over at me-ander, in this post.  As she points out, there are occasional problems – like the “off” one can leak and empty itself out without warning.  But it’s not a bad system; just weird to get used to if your gas supply has always been infinite before.

(In the merkaz klitah, there were no balonim; just a “mains” gas supply, like in Canada.)

The gas company give you two canisters – one on (ie connected to your apartment), one off.  When the “on” one runs out, you switch to the “off” one and order a new one to replace the empty balon.

There is no coordination between neighbours, either, so outside every single apartment building, you end up with a motley collection of mismatched balonim:

This one’s actually pretty tidy.  Ours is a real mess.  I don’t know what the “hood”  over the top of the balonim does, either.  Ours is just about the only one in the neighbourhood that doesn’t have a hood.

So after I read about them on her blog, I pretty much forgot everything… until a few nights ago when I lay awake thinking of all the cooking ahead for Pesach and wondering, “how long do these things last, anyway???”

We moved in in late January, and now it’s April.  And a quick facebook poll revealed that three months was pretty typical.  Eek.

Happily, I sent Akiva out there today to check and it seems like we have plenty; one full and one with “enough,” he said, to last through yom tov.  Phew!  He also tested how to switch them and said, “it’s easy.”  Phew again!

NOTE TO SELF:  Don’t ever forget the “balloons” again.

And now that the worry is past, it’s time to cook and cook and cook and cook…

In our teeny-weeny kitchen, we have 2 shelves loaded with Pesach food.

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And what’s cooking?

Lemon dessert in progress…

Here’s the crust (crumbs of a marble cake at left, mixed with a little coconut oil and baked into a crust at right):

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And here’s the filling – lemon curd (underneath, made last night), 3 egg whites to mix in to make the main filling, 4 more egg whites to make the meringue.

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Wondering where all the extra egg yolks go???

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Egg lokshen!!! 

When cool, I’ll roll these up and slice them into “noodles.”

Chocolate-dipped coconut macaroons! 

(super-easy, no whipping – here’s the recipe!)

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Eggs for the seder, puréed squash for tomorrow’s soup, and roasted beets (unpickled; the pickled ones are on another shelf).

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Last post before Pesach; a lot is done already, but there is still much to do.

Best, best wishes from the Holy Land for a happy freedom festival!

Yom Yerushalayim

IMG_00002465  Planning our aliyah, I said over and over that I didn’t think we could live in Yerushalayim, for many reasons, but that there’s no point in living in this country if we can’t get there on a regular basis. 

So today was the test of that:  how easily can we get to Yerushalayim from up here in the north?  (and also, another importanIMG_00002464t question, how affordably?)

The answer is:  it’s an easy trip – for an adult.  For the kids, it’s a bit much.

For an adult, it costs ₪42 (about $12-14) from the Haifa bus station, plus the local fare to get to the bus station.  Normally, that’s ₪5.50, but because they’ve just unveiled and are working the kinks out of a new super-duper high-speed Haifa transit system, the Metronit, it’s temporarily free to get to the bus station – bonus!!!

Time-wise, the Metronit makes it much easier, replacing a bus that was annoyingly slow the 2-3 times we had to take it during our short stay here.  But in order to get to the station free and save the ₪5.50 (per person!), we have to walk to the Metronit, which is not exactly close.  So what with kid-walking-speed taken into account, the travel time to the Haifa station is still about one hour.  Drat.

The bus to Yerushalayim leaves once an hour (a bit more often during rush hour).  Once you’re on the bus, it takes exactly 2 hours to get there, not a bad stretch of time, but a restless one for little people.  We brought books and other forms of entertainment, but it still felt a little on the long side.

(The bus was full both ways.  On the way home, as luck would have it, the last seat on the bus, ie mine, was waaaaay up at the front of the bus, far away from Ted/Akiva and the kiddies.  So I had a nice, relaxing ride while they made him crazy the whole way back to Haifa.  The last couple of passengers, both times, spent the trip sitting on the floor.)

Arriving in Yerushalayim, I noticed a difference in the weather immediately.  They say it because it’s true:  “It’s a DRY heat.”  Yerushalayim is bone-dry right now.  So’s Haifa, but here, we have the damp, salty Mediterranean air, with a humidity often reaching into the 90% range.  There, you drink and drink and drink and drink… and it all evaporates out your pores.

It is VERY dry in Yerushalayim; did I mention that?  But that means that when there’s a breeze, it feels nice.  In the shade, it feels nice.  Most importantly, the stickiness that has clung to our skin for the last 12 days finally evaporated, leaving us feeling slightly human again.

Our “errands” for the day were:  daven at the kosel (kotel, western wall), find lunch somewhere afterwards, get ice cream at the place I saw near the kosel back in February, stroll through machaneh yehudah market (shuk) and then meet an old friend so our kids could play with her kids.  Oy – too much for one day out with kids!!!

IMG_00002449  By the time the bus pulled into the merkazit (central bus station) in Yerushalayim, the kids were starving and melty, so we shuffled the priorities and added Aroma iced coffee to the list, stopping at the super-cool Big Apple Pizza near Yaffo Street.IMG_00002448

The pizza was very nice, though I refused (now that we’re officially Not Tourists) to let the kids buy sugary drinks to go along with them.  They knew we planned to get ice cream later anyway.

However, stopping off BEFORE the kosel meant a longer walk to the kosel itself… a hot, sunny shlep until we reached the Old City, where all the weird covered alleyways were about 15 degrees cooler.

Eventually, we made it to the kosel:

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It sounds redundant to say it was sunny there, too, but the big open plaza made it feel EXTRA sunny.  Some of the ladies were taking shade under a temporary construction bridge across the ladies’ section, but most of those seats were taken.  Anyway, I told the kids we wouldn’t stay long, and just did a couple of chapters of tehillim (psalms) before turning around. 

Well, not literally.  There’s a minhag (custom) to not turn your back on the kosel, just as you wouldn’t turn around and walk away from royalty; it’s just rude.  Some people don’t know and just turn around and leave; others take it to an extreme and walk backwards the whole way out.  I kind of do a compromise where I go backwards until I feel I’m not really “there” anymore and that it would be ridiculous to back up any farther.  Then I turn around.

By the time we’d worked our way back through the warrens of the Christian Quarter, the rest of the plan had kind of gone to pieces because we were late.  My friend was very time-constrained, as her son was coming home from school soon (chareidi boys’ schools started back on Rosh Chodesh Elul).

We tried to catch a cab, with no luck, so took the train to machaneh yehudah instead.  Then we caught a cab to the park where we were to meet, only 15 minutes late.  Found our friends and it was a nice playground; the kids had a good time, if not for nearly long enough.

They walked us back up almost all the way to machaneh yehudah (the shuk) and then left us on our own.  Both kids were starting to complain about their legs hurting, so I promised that by the time we got to the other side of the shuk, they would have a) fresh juice drinks, b) halva, and c) a train ride back to the merkazit.

Happily, I was able to make all those dreams come true – cups of fresh limonana (icy-cool lemon-mint slushy) and countless halva samples later  (yes, I bought some to bring home, but not much, because we’re NOT tourists!), we caught the train back to the merkazit. 

Quickly checked the time and we had FIVE minutes to catch the return bus to Haifa!!!  Pre-emptively, I had demanded a complete schedule and platform information when we arrived in the morning, knowing it might be a rush on the way home.

(Note about the bus station – if you go to a “tickets” window and ask for information, they will yell at you; if you go to the “information” window, they may still yell at you, but they will also happily give you all the information you need, and it is very, very useful!) 

(She yelled because I asked for the schedule and then clarified because I didn’t think she’d understood me, so she yelled that she was getting it already.  It may not have been actual yelling, but it was scary to my Canadian ears.)

I was happy now that I had done all that already, but I also knew that when security is tight, it can take way more than five minutes just to line up and get in to the merkazit, let alone three floors up to the departures platforms (ratzif, ratzif, ratzif… must stop calling them “ritzpah” (floor) instead of “ratzif” (platform).)

Weirdly, for some reason, there was NO security.  Like, the door was wide open and the security guy was doing something else.  He didn’t even wave us in; he didn’t even look.  We ran up the escalators, ran to the platform (ratzif!) and eventually made it into the last four seats.

Exactly two hours later, we pulled in to the Haifa merkazit, and an hour after that, we tumbled sleepily into the apartment, two hours late for a Skype call with my mother, which lasted about two minutes.

Ted / Akiva had the BRILLIANT idea of having hot dogs for supper (oops, yes, we are eating a lot of meats-with-preservatives these days; hopefully it will average out over a lifetime).  I was totally craving them after the delicious-smelling hot-dog stand we always pass in the merkazit in Yerushalayim.  It is very, very nice to be able to find kosher buns at any hour.

GOOD:  When we got home, a fedex was waiting for me with the replacement for my VISA card which was cancelled last week.  They refused to mail it to my mother’s house but spent however-much to fedex it to me across the Atlantic.  Whatever; I’m happy it’s here.  Also, we found a bank machine that worked with our cards, all the way down there in Yerushalayim.  Good to know, though it may be the only one in the entire country!

BAD:  We dropped off Ted / Akiva at the store to buy the hot dogs and I took the kids home on the local bus (yes, I spent the ₪5.50 per person – GZ was so tired on the Metronit that I had to give him a Werther’s candy to keep him awake.)  Naomi sat by herself in the back of the bus and I didn’t notice she got off without her “teek” – the brand-new extra-huge-for-school Roots backpack her Aunt Cheryl bought her when she came to Toronto 2 weeks ago.  :-(  So I have to call Egged Haifa lost-and-found in the morning and figure out how to tell them we moronically lost our bag.  Also, our teudot zehut (identity papers) are officially lost and we have to spend tomorrow shlepping around replacing them.   That’s actually kind of good news – by this time tomorrow, we may have them at last.

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