Sick of it

My daughter's friend Anmol is Indian and apparently kvetches (and we thought we were special, huh?) about having to eat Indian food all the time. Can you believe it? If we want Indian food (and oh, yes, we do), we have to go to a special restaurant. We have to pay a hefty price and we have to live with the fact that it will be a long time before we get it again. And here that kid is getting Indian food (home-made, no less) every day and she is sick of it. The other girls at the lunch table protested this but my daughter shared the story of a time when her evil mother managed to make her sick of....pizza. Yes, you read that right: My pizza-tarian child got sick of eating pizza. Not for long, mind you, but still.

This just goes to show that there is such a thing as "Too much of a good thing". And this week's parasha is a prime example of it. Way back when, the Israleites complained about hunger (they ran out of matzah right after crossing the sea) and G-d sent them the manna. Now, our sages tell us that the coolest thing about the manna was that it tasted like whatever one wanted it to taste like. Isn't that great? My students love this part. They always want to know if it could taste like chocolate. Which I suppose it could, if anyone back then knew what chocolate tasted like.

Anyhow, with a feature like that, one may wonder how can you get sick of manna. Well, never let it be said that Jews are not unique. They did get sick of it. What did they want? meat and vegetables. Vegetables! When they can have chocolate. Talk about ingrates. 

And how did they complain: "We remember the free food we had in Egypt". Free. Right.

Is it any wonder Moshe asks G-d to take them off his hands? And you gotta admire his choice of words: "Have I conceived this people? Did I give birth to it that you ask me to carry it in my lap?" This, from the guy who claimed to be "not so good with words."

So, G-d, who really likes Moshe (and was probably worried about finding someone else for the job in the middle of the desert), sends meat. Notice all children everywhere: He sends meat. Not veggies. 

And G-d has a sense of humor. He sends quail. Many, many quails, 'tis true, but quail nevertheless. 

What is quail? It's a tiny, tiny bird. Worse, it's a wild, migrating bird. Mid-migration. Therefore, we're talking of a bird with very little meat to begin with and what meat it has, is hard working muscles, very tough to chew. And the Israelites die while eating it, too. G-d sends a plague to kill them while the meat is still "between their teeth" (Which must have prompted the invention of dental floss.)

Have we learned anything in the thousands of years that have passed since that incident? How often do we recognize G-d's gifts? How often do we ignore the gifts we already have and complain about the stuff we don't have? Let's take a look around, right this second, and count everything we have. We have our eye-sight, the use of our hands, the ability to operate a computer, probably enough money to own one and the leisure to read about different ways to cook food, never mind enough money to actually have food, which most of the world doesn't.

So, yes, we don't have the house of our dreams, well behaved children or a movie star spouse. Like the "free food we had in Egypt", these things (including the well behaved children) only look good from a distance. G-d gives us exactly what we need. If we fail to appreciate it, we will be plagued. By a constant feeling of dis-satisfaction. We will not be able to enjoy our food even when it is "between our teeth".

Besides the meat, the Israelites missed a variety of fresh veggies: onions, garlic, melons, squash (I know it is translated as "cucumbers" but the word is modern Hebrew for "squash", as in "zucchini") and something called "khatzir" which was translated as "leeks", but which in modern Hebrew means various grasses. So here is a dish made with small birds, grass (wild rice), onion, garlic and squash. I couldn't find a way to put melons in it (especially as the word used in the Torah means "watermelon") but I did use a little honey to flavor the birds and if you really want to be authentic feel free to find watermelon preserves and use that instead. 

Note: Quails are not easy to find which is why I use very small chickens. And I do mean small. You can get tiny birds (about a pound and a half or less) if you ask the butcher. Sephardic Jews in Israel use pigeons (or is it doves?, I'm not sure of the translation here. It's called 'yona' in Hebrew), which is fine, too. Or, if you find quail - go for it.

Ingrate stuffed birds

2 Tbs olive oil

1/2 medium onion, finely chopped

2 Tbs shallot, finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

2 medium zucchini, diced

1/3 cup dry white wine or chicken broth

1 1/2 cups cooked wild rice

1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped

1 Tbs fresh sage, chopped

1 Tbs fresh thyme, chopped

Salt and pepper to taste

 4 very small chickens (one to one and a half pounds each)

2 Tbs honey

1. Pre heat oven to 400F.

2. Cook onion, shallot and garlic in oil over medium heat for about 10 minutes, until soft.

3. Add zucchini and cook another 10 minutes until soft.

4. Add wine or broth and scrape the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon to release any browned bits.

5. Cook until most of the liquids evaporate (5 minutes or so).

6. Remove from heat and mix with the rice, herbs and spices.

7. Season birds inside and out with salt and pepper. Stuff cavity loosely with rice mixture, then arrange on a   rack in a roasting pan.

8. Warm the honey a little (a few seconds in the microwave or dip the jar in warm water) and spread (or rub) over the birds. 

9. Roast the birds for 10 minutes; reduce to 350°F and roast for about 30-40 minutes more, or until the juices in the thigh run clear when it is pierced with a knife. 

10.  Let rest for 15 minutes, then cut in halves and serve.

Depending on the size of your birds and the appetite of your diners, this can serve between 4 to 6 people.

And remember to be grateful for what you already have.