Israel (and Jordan), a mouthful

Kate came for a 10 day visit. This was always going to be an ambitious project, us trying to squeeze a diverse, ever changing, constantly evolving rich foodscape that is made up of dozens of different cuisines, local and from the various Diaspora; Street food, gourmet, cheap and expensive, simple and pretentious, fresh and seasonal, slow and traditional, we had it all.

This was a week of chicken, turkey and lamb shawarma, good hummus and bad, cheap borek, good borek and luxury crab meat borek, brains on toast, kibbeh soup, shakshuka, mujaddara, sweet knafe, mild Malabi and a sour sweet tamarind juice.

The new covered market at Tel Aviv port was the place we had a fluffy kebab and an inspiring gelato, at Levinsky spice market we collected spices, from dried Persian lemons to white Yemenite coffee, a mediocre borek and an unforgettable pomegranate orange juice. Lastly, we made a pitstop at HaCarmel market for some succulent Medjool dates.

Ali Karawan’s mind blowing hummus in Jaffa was a Friday breakfast appetizer, but then we simply had to stop at the doctor for a spicy shakshuka, a taste of his shawarma and a cuscus (Dr. Shakshuka has a Phd in shakshuka, in case you wondered).

A visit to Jerusalem's Mahne Yehuda market began with coffee and a visit to 'Marzipan' patisserie for their gooey dripping Rogelach and boreks before we headed to Azura for a taste of Kibbeh soup and okra cooked in tomato sauce. We had no time to waste and so we headed to the old city, for more food and some spirituality at the wailing wall and the church of the sepulchre.

It was late afternoon, and we had already sampled the local Knafe (fried kadaifi with sweet sheep's milk cheese, rose sugar syrup and pistachio) when the search for the best shawarama began. We didnt have an address as such, or a name for that matter, but we knew what we were after. Eventually we made it to a fluorescent lit dining hall, and were greeted by a large shawarma and several men with a smile that says: " I know you made quite a way to get this far and its well worth it". We were sat down and were served some salads, pita bread and two heaped plates of freshly carved shawarma. It was thanksgiving in the US and the turkey meat cooked in sheep fat was appropriate for the occasion. And it was wonderful too. Dinner was a disaster so I wont go into it. Suffice to say it didnt change Kate's mind regarding eggplants or tahini, both of which were badly made and expensively charged.
As part of the' once in a lifetime' experience we made plans to visit Petra. Although Jordan is the closest thing to abroad from Israel, this was to be my first time. A taxi ride, flight, border pass, and more taxi ride later we were in Wadi Mussa, ready to see the wonder. It may have been the end of November but you couldn't tell from the heat wave. We saw the wonder and even saved our packed lunch to have in it's presence. Several hours later, after marvelling at the landscape and trying to avoid the donkey rides that kept appearing in front of us we had dinner at a restaurant specializing in typical Jordanian cuisine.

Despite a few glitches like a random apple mayo salad, we were served local dishes such as stuffed zucchini and a fragrant lamb Maqluba, fresh yogurt, Hummus, bitter olives and beet salad. However, we both agreed that apart for the cold beer and free nuts at the Movenpick hotel lobby it was the 1 Dinari falafel and fried shawarma wrap that did it for us.

As a fitting finale to our Jordanian adventure, our taxi driver shared with us a freshly baked bread he picked up in a bakery on his trip back, still warm and humid from the taboon.

Dipped in fromage blanc and a bottle of beer it made for dinner, Biblical style.

There were many more dishes and meals, from 'North Abraxes', to 'Shila' and a hedonistic meal at the 'Basta', a Russian breakfast at 'Cafe Mersand' and a sabich finale at Tchernichovsky.

Now that I have caught on my sleep and the workload and had some time to ingest the week and digest the copious amount of foods I feel I must mention some of the catastrophes, mishaps and general cloud of strange coincidences that came flying our way from all directions and at all times, from dentists and mormons, to a fringe, a spilled jar of tahini in a suitcase, lost chargers, unstable bikes to one very bad film, to name but a few (all of which added to the experience and the taste of the food). I'd do it all over again kate.

Till the next time, however, there is no rest for the wicked and I have landed directly in the hands of Hanukah (thats code for fried latkes and more fried doughnuts).

Must. carry. on.

Israeli cuisine meets red cabbage

Something is happening and cabbage on a plate just might be it.

Spending 12 months of food studies in Italy was an eye opening experience coming from Israel, a country with a budding gastronomical identity, still in its culinary diapers. Trying to define an Israeli cuisine is not an easy one. There are the European Jewish cuisines; Polish, German, Russian, Hungarian, and Romanian for example. Then there is the Mediterranean variety of Jewish cuisines such as Moroccan, Tunisian, Syrian, Iraqi, Persian, Libyan and Turkish. Ethiopian and Balkan cuisines also spring to mind, and there are MANY others that don’t. As if this was not complicated enough, the equation is still incomplete.

This cornucopia of cuisines joins an existing local food culture. Christian, Muslim, Samaritan, Galilean, Druze, Jewish, Armenian and Bedouin communities have co-existed on this land for centuries, each with its particular food culture based on religion, locality, tradition and seasonality; fascinating considering the small scale of the terroir.

A short recount of the local food map since the early 20^th century: in the beginning each ethnic group kept to its own food culture, steering clear from the suspicious unfamiliar, and associating food with identity. The fragrant tomato, addictive cottage cheese and Jaffa oranges became quintessential symbols of Israeli food, as did the falafel and now controversial Hummus. This was not only a far cry from a local cuisine, but, as per the ongoing and current hummus battle, their origins are unclear and have likely been adopted from elsewhere considering the ungraspable variety of possible sources.

During the 80s and 90s Israel was introduced to the pleasures of fine dining by a selection of classically trained and well traveled local chefs keen on creating a classic food experience with a taste of old Europe, mainly that of French cuisine, to this day fondly remembered for the explicit use of butter, and previously unheard of high quality ingredients flown from a far. This was novel and it tasted good, but it was anything but Israeli. Then everything went quiet. A period of hibernation commenced in which those classically trained chefs, each on their own, reconnected with their gastronomical roots and their mothers’ cooking, as well as embracing local ingredients and the readily available resource of local cuisines, traditions and recipes.

Metaphorically speaking, the ingredients were added to the pot decades ago, commencing a culinary meltdown and the emergence of a new Israeli cuisine that is based on the land, seasons, and the culinary treasures accumulated over centuries of endless roaming.

An excellent example is a red cabbage I recently enjoyed as a main course at a highly rated restaurant in Tel Aviv. Looking at the menu, one might have been fooled into thinking this was a canteen at the market, or a snack bar at a gas station. The recently opened ‘Abraxas Tzafon’ prides itself on simple food made from the freshest, (mostly) local ingredients. Literally.

This is fast food with a twist, as it is not fast and it is real food.

The tables here are dressed in brown recycled paper Instead of tablecloths. Advance preparation is kept to a minimum and the food is prepared to order. Only then will the pita bread be baked, the ripe tomatoes sliced, the kebabs chopped and the in house ketchup blended.

An entire cauliflower seasoned only with crushed salt arrived at the table, wrapped in parchment paper like a flower bouquet, all steaming and buttery. A Ruben sandwich tied like a small bundle was filled with a thrice- cooked corned beef, encased in toasted sourdough bread baked from a unique blend of 3 flours.

Only one dish can be crowned as a piece de resistance and much has been written about this one; a round glistening red cabbage shared the plate with no one, as it proudly stood alone in its entirety with no distractions or obstructions. Cooked for 6 hours in a ‘specific stock of root vegetables and 2 bones from a lamb’ the result was a rich, smoky, crumbling cabbage, succulent, rich and unapologetic as if to say ‘It is what it is’. And what a beautiful ‘is’ it was.

Who would have thought that a cabbage could prove a culinary experience so intense? This just might be the symbol of the zeitgeist in the Israeli food map; high quality seasonal ingredients celebrated for what they are with no noise and no frills. Their voice can now be heard in all its honesty.