Kosher Kerfuffle

Rahm Emanuel's family trip to Israel gets off to a rocky start when he is caught eating bottom feeders at a Bostonian-themed restaurant in wannabe Las Vegas resort town Eilat.

Really, Mister Chief of Staff? You fly halfway around the world for your son's Bar Mitzvah to eat the waspiest grub known to man? Rahmie, take a tender critcism from one self-hating Jew to another, you need to wipe some hummus. Go do it, and while you're at it have the traveling press corp take your picture chowing on pita and pickles. That would be the culinary equivalent of serving in Gaza: your Israeli credentials will be established, and from then on you can devour raw hogs on public television.

Indian Weaponizes the Chili Pepper

"This is definitely going to be an effective nontoxic weapon because its pungent smell can choke terrorists and force them out of their hide-outs,"

Which begs the question, what if terrorists like spicy food?

Lunch on a Head

This man charges 7 NIS for waht he calls "a tomato meat sandwich," speaks excellent English, and has so far always been sold out when I've attempted to nibble some. Hopefully I'll catch him early on my next weekly trip to East Jerusalem. And so: To be continued...

New York Times Columnists On Israeli Cuisine

First Roger Cohen:

I’m a big believer in the stress-dissipating, difference-bridging kitchen. Nothing dissolves angst as fast as culinary creation. I look forward to the first Israeli-Palestinian food festival and the inaugural Indian-Pakistani gastronomic fair. Visceral enemies betray themselves in the similarity of their foods. We know from the Bible how blood brothers slay each other.

Cohen touches upon an often overlooked and encouraging aspect of the Israeli-Palestine conflict: The exchange of culinary and to some degree, linguistic traits in Israel. Many day-to-day expressions in Hebrew betray Arabic origins (including the great majority of curse words). Of course there are those who take this as evidence of cultural imperialism and indeed, I have on many occasions heard offhand remarks by Israeli soldiers on the glory of Gazan hummus, but I prefer to be optimistic and think that if we can cover a lot of ground at the dinner table.

On the other hand, in an article on Israel's success in Hi-Tech, David Brooks wrote:

Milton Friedman used to joke that Israel disproved every Jewish stereotype. People used to think Jews were good cooks, good economic managers and bad soldiers; Israel proved them wrong.

I could not disagree more, Mr. Brooks, though I suppose my real beef is with Mr. Friedman. Israel features a wide array of culinary traditions from European as well as Middle-Eastern countries. More to the point, a new generation of Israeli chiefs take the same dedication, discipline and spirit of innovation Brooks writes sees in Hi-Tech right into the kitchen. Mr. Brooks, next time you're in Israel, I've got some Sabich you should try.

A Meal I Couldn't Stomach

In my first post for this blog, the gripping mission statement, I made a pledge to document the good food devoured in my comings and goings throughout Israel. (Actually "chronicle delicious restaurants" are the exact words I used.) Though I wholeheartedly intended to honor this statement, I must deviate from my it now, my mission statement being the fine, elastic document that it is, and tell you about the worst food I barely ate in israel.

Ever since a friend pointed me to the health concerns over the cheap ethnic food stands in shopping malls throughout israel, hygiene and food quality have been like a persistent virus that's infused itself into my DNA and changed the way I operate. I tend not to think in the condescending "oh food outside of the modern world is so icky, disgusting and dirty and I totally never trust it. Mom please send me a box of Nutrigrain Bars so I have something to eat" kind of way but more from the place of, "hmph this kebab costs 6 shekels, they must be making a decent profit off of it, which means the meat must of cost around 3 shekels, it might be contaminated and even if not, it has to be pretty lousy quality."

Hygiene was very much on my mind a few weeks ago when me, roommate and sister did a little grocery shopping at the shoq and decided to have a quick meal. We stopped beside a small kitchen-room. Outside of it was a table with a smorgasbord of items. It looked like this:

Not too bad right? Some kobeh, pickled vegetables, fried eggplant and fish. We hesitated for a minute or so but decided to go inside. My thinking was that my pescatarian sister could indulge in some fishy flesh. And what the hell, it's Israel. There's a huge cuisine culture, yeah? People here love food, no? Bad restaurants close down in a month, right? What's the worst that could happen. So we sat down.

That decision was immediately regretted.

The kobeh was thick, doughy and oily, with hardly enough ground beef inside to hit the spot.

The eggplants were so-so (as long as they're cooked enough, it's nearly impossible to screw up eggplant).

And when we asked for hummus, the owner brought us a massive bowl of tahini. But only the bowl was massive: There was barely any tahini left inside. Desperate for something edible, we wiped it clean.

Worst of all, it was filthy, and I didn't fail to comment on the "hygiene standards in a place like this" to my companions. Looking back, that was a critical mistake: Either you comment on the hygiene and get the fuck out of dodge, or you stay in your seat, keep your trap shut and pretend to enjoy the meal.

But if you mention the squalor, muck and grime and stay put, there's no way you can even pretend to dig the grub.

Still, I'll never forget this meal. Images from that are carved into my memory, like when the owner picked up the extra fish we didn't want with her bare hands. That's when I looked up and noticed she had a mustache.

Anyway, the point of all this: When you're picking a restaurant on the fly, go with your gut. Don't think out why it might be good for you pescatarian sister. Though you might end up with a decent story. I've paid way more than 35 shekels for that.

War & Hummus

You can read all about the Hummus War here. And here. And here and here.

(by the way notice that the last article from ynet refers to a gathering of garlic-lovers, despite garlic being an optional ingredient in hummus.)

It is rather disheartening to find that hummus, long touted (along with food generally) as being the only agent potent enough to bring Arabs and Jews together, is now becoming the cause de guerre of a geo-political conflict involving Israel, Lebanon and a suspicious British organization (in this case that Guinness Book of World Records).

The back-and-forth in this conflict ranks pretty high on the petty meter. If I were Lebanese, I'd sure be peeved that Israel is becoming synonymous with hummus. But at the same time trying assert national provenance for a dish reaching as far back in time as hummus is either foolish or futile. And we can always count on the Israelis to instigate. Please remember: This isn't the Golan Heights people! You can both be heirs to great hummus. I suppose one ought to be pleased that this war is being fought in the kitchen and not on the battlefield but still, where is the love?

What's funny is that when it comes to food, it's not about size but quality and flavor. A better way to wage the Hummus War is to prepare and deliver a tastier product. It's safe to say that in that war, we'd all be victors.

For what it's worth, the best store-bought hummus I've tried in the States came from Abu Gosh in Israel and was made by a company called Sabra. As for Lebanese hummus, I've yet to see any in my grocery store. 

Mission Statement

Having a set of governing principles and intentions (read: mission statement) seems like an absurd idea when working on a medium as ephemeral, immediate and dynamic as a blog. Nevertheless, I'll state outright that what I intend to do here, if for no other reason than to provide an easy entryway into my first post.

The point of this blog--and we'll see how this changes over time--is to explore Israeli cuisine from the inside-out, to pinpoint the reason for the Israeli obsession with food and to examine how something as simple as our daily bread intersects with culture, politics and society. Along the way I will document great dishes, chronicle delicious restaurants, and provide the occasional easy-to-make recipe.

Some overarching questions:

Should we speak of Israeli Cuisine as a discrete entity, or is 'Israeli Cuisine' a simple smorgasbord of dishes imported from around the world? In other words, is the sum greater than its parts, or is it just a sum?

To what degree does the old-world Ashkenazi/Sephardic division hold in the kitchen?

Can food be a vehicle for peace?

Why is it impossible to find good hummus in the USA?