Promised land

Imagine, if you will, a small house, painted the lightest of greens, built on a hill in the Galil. On your left grows a fig tree with its sweet, perfectly shaped fruit; on your right a grape vine covers a pergola, heavy clusters hanging down above your head. A little further in the yard there are olive trees, their fruit small and dark green. From where you sit, you have a lovely view of the hills and mountains of the Galil. The heat of the day doesn't bother you because A. You're sitting in the shade and B. There's a light refreshing breeze. 

The owner of the place approaches with two wooden platters. On one, there's a small pizza; on the other, a pesto and tomato foccacia. Both have been baked a few minutes ago. You're almost done with the heavenly breads when the guy appears again. This time he brings herb omelets, a cheese platter with labaneh drenched in olive oil and za'atar, a basket of whole grain baby pitas and grain topped small rolls, another wooden server with sliced cucumbers, quartered tomatoes, shredded lettuce, strips of peppers, julienne carrots and kohlrabi, all sprinkled with toasted sunflower seeds, small bowls of green olives, Tahini, dotted with parsley, smoky flavored Baba Ganoush, lightly pickled beets, butter, two kinds of jam (peaches and pears), a carafe of lemonade and iced chocolate milk. When asked, he shyly admits that everything is home made. A simple tasting verifies the statement. 

When we couldn't eat another bite (and hubby finished licking clean a second bowl of pear jam), here comes the owner again with a plate of sliced, ice cold melon of a type I am not familiar with. Hubby points to the grape clusters hanging practically over our heads and asks if we could possibly cut one down. The owner calmly reaches up and cuts down a large cluster, washes it under the faucet at the edge of the small yard and brings it over. The grapes, pale green and warm from the sun are sweet and juicy. The puddle of joy that used to be yours truly contemplates the possibility of never leaving this perfect place, where the verse "Each under his grape vine and under his fig tree" so beautifully became a reality.

In this week's parasha, Moshe makes some pretty exciting promises. If you simply keep the rules we have discussed, G-d will love you and give you all sorts of blessings. There will be no disease, no trouble, no suffering. There will be plenty of harvests; both in the fields and orchards and in the homes and farms. And, just to drive the point home, Moshe says (D'varim chapter 8, verses 7-9): G-d is bringing you to a wonderful land. A land with plenty of water in the valleys and in the mountains. A land of wheat and barley, grapevine and fig and pomegranate, of olives and honey. A land where you will not have to eat a bread of affliction because you will want for nothing.

Sitting in the charming yard of Bait 77, we could see with our own eyes how this promise came true. However, we must not forget that we are G-d's partners. For many centuries, this same land was desolate. All these trees grew here, for sure, but the land itself was in bad shape. Desert, swamps, neglect and disease were everywhere. It took us, the Jews, and our determination and our strong belief in our right to this land to turn it into the paradise it is today. Moshav Amirim (where Bait 77 is located) was made possible by G-d's blessings of a land flowing with all kind of good things and by the vision and hard work of the people who loved it enough to want to make it the garden of Eden it can become.

And it's not just in the Galil. The house we're staying in is located in the Sharon and when I need lemon juice, I send hubby next door to pick a few lemons; when I need rosemary for the little potatoes, I send my daughter out to the street to pick some from the bushes that grow everywhere. There are pomegranate trees and olive trees and fig trees along the route I take in the morning, on my way to buy milk and bread. And, while Moshe listed all kinds of good things, he couldn't possibly envision a time when passion-fruit bushes will grow everywhere like a weed. When hubby found out about this, he was sure he had died and gone to heaven. About 50% of his diet here is passion-fruit that he has picked himself. He is very, very happy. 

 Baby Potatoes

 I was busy this week. Breathing in lungfuls of fresh Galil air and moaning with pleasure at each bite. So, having little time for complicated recipes, here is the quickest recipe ever. All you need is a bag of tiny potatoes, which in Israel one can buy at the supermarket. It holds about 2 pounds or so of white, very small potatoes (each potato can be consumed in one or two bites). To this I added a generous amount of olive oil (at least a 1/4 cup), coarse salt and lots of fresh rosemary, chopped (leaves from about 2 or 3 large branches). Then I baked it in a large pan (one in which the potatoes can fit comfortably in one layer) at about 425F for an hour until the potatoes are done (when you can easily stick a fork in them and the skins are a little wrinkled). This will serve at least 8 people.

Or, you could make the potatoes without the rosemary and when they are done, add some creamy sauce (like pesto with cream and Parmesan) and reheat the whole thing. This version, however, will only serve one or two people because it is way too yummy to share.



And if you ever find yourself in the Galil, do yourself a favor and stop at Moshav Amirim, look for Bait 77 and give yourself the gift of the simple pleasures that were made possible by G-d's promise and G-d's people.

Bait 77;  telelphone: 04-6980984;  www.bait77.com

Renew Our Days As Days Of Old

We visited Neve Tzedek this week. This is the first neighborhood of Tel Aviv and we were lucky enough to have as a guide hubby's aunt's husband, Shlomo, who was raised in this neighborhood and not only knew it like the back of his hand but also related personal anecdotes (Like shlepping wood for the water heater at his friend's house. Apparently, the rest of the neighbors were too poor to have such luxury and went to the public bathhouse, which we also visited.)

We saw the house (and balcony off the window) of Literature Nobel prize winner, S.Y. Agnon. We saw the Famous Sh'loosh house (still not renovated, alas.) We saw where Shlomo's sister went to school (now it's a performing arts center.) We saw old, old synagogues and old, old factories of things that no one have any use for anymore. 

But it was lovely. Because, while this place that was once the richest, fanciest, liveliest neighborhood in the new city by the sea had later fallen into disrepair (so Shlomo basically grew up in a slum), today it is renovated to within an inch of its life. The narrow streets and alleyways teem with people. Specialty stores that sell unique clothing, hand made jewelry and extraordinary art reside in what used to be dim one room houses and hole-in-the-wall "factories". Each stone is lovingly restored and even new houses are built in the style of the older building in order to keep the authentic look and feel. Out of the slums, the ruins and the dirt, a wonderful, beautiful place was reborn. It is again a desirable place to live, to work and to create.

What made the change? Love. Someone walked around and saw beauty under the layers of dirt and neglect. Someone wanted to make it pretty and useful again. Someone loved it enough to bring it back to life.

On Tisha B'Av, this week, we mourned the destruction of the Temple (both of them) and various other disasters our people have encountered. Places and people who once were celebrated and glorious have fallen into disrepair and ruin. Only love can bring them back. Only when someone will look at these places and see the beauty beneath the neglect and care enough to work hard to bring them back to their old glory, will they flourish again. And the same goes for the people. Only when we will care enough about others, look at them and see their inner beauty and love them enough to work hard to get along with them, only then will our nation be renewed "as in days of old." And only then will we be worthy of a renewed Temple.

In this week's parasha, Moshe keeps driving this point home: don't forget what I taught you, because forgetting the good and the right will lead to ruin and disaster.

It did, you know. Which is what we mourn. And also what we can fix and renew. We can make it beautiful again if we can just see the beauty within and be willing to work hard at renovating it.

Shlomo's wife, Vida (hubby's favorite aunt) makes this awesome cake that is totally worth ruining your diet for (I don't bother with diets as it seems like a lost cause by now.) The only drawback is that you need to get some dairy products that are common in Israel but not so easy to find in America. Practically any store that carries Israeli products should have them, though (even Costco....) so just look for them.




Khaleh Vida's unbelievably yummy cake

4 eggs, separated
1 cup sugar, divided
27 oz (750 grams) Israeli white cheese (this is a soft, spreadable cheese) either 5% or 9% (when you find it, you'll see the % on the package)
2 heaping Tbs corn starch
1 package Vanilla Instant Pudding, divided
1 cup milk
1 cup heavy cream


Preheat oven to 375F.
Beat 4 egg whites with 1/2 cup sugar until stiff peaks form. Set aside.
Mix well: 4 egg yolks, 1/2 cup sugar, white cheese, corn starch and Instant pudding. Fold beaten egg whites into the mixture.
Spread in a 9x13 inch pan, lightly greased.
Put into the oven and immediately lower the heat to 325F. Bake for 35-40 minutes. Turn the oven off and leave cake inside for another 10 minutes.
Cool cake completely.
Meanwhile, beat together milk, cream and the rest of the pudding package. Spread evenly over cooled cake.
Keep in fridge, serve well chilled, think carefully before you share it.






Dear G-d, give us wisdom and kindness. Teach us to see beneath the surface of people and places, into the inner beauty that is the divine spark You have placed inside each and every one of us. Give us the compassion to do what is necessary to clean off the dirt and reveal the beauty in this world You have so lovingly created for us. Renew our days as days of old so we will have the chance to sit together in peace and share the above-mentioned delicious cake. I will personally save You a piece.

Remember when?

Moshe opens D'varim with a history review. Remember when? First we did this , then we did that and this happened and the other thing. Wasn't that cool? 

OK. Maybe not "cool". The fact is, most of the time he reminds them of their misbehavior. But still. 

What is it with the past? Why are we so fascinated by it? Why do we return to it again and again? (certainly the Torah loves to repeat things over and over again.) Some people say that "Those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it." I wouldn't want to repeat any parts of my own history (adolescence comes to mind) but I still like to review parts of history; my own and my people's. 

This week we did a lot of historical reviews. We visited Acco and saw a whole bunch of old stuff. I won't tell you what we saw, just that it was well worth the heat, the sweat and the smell of the fish in the Arab market (even my vegetarian child was willing to brave walking past that particular vendor, in order to see everything.) The awesome thing about Acco is that, like Jerusalem and Rome, this is an ancient city where people live and work in buildings that are thousands of years old and are very blase about it. Like in most of Israel, people live in the midst of ancient history and don't really pay attention. It's good, actually. The past is important but the present is much more important.

We visited Rosh Hanikra and saw the wonderful caves where the sea crushes unto the rocks. The cable car ride was scary but we were very brave and did not scream. Well, not very loudly, anyway.

We also saw another ancient town. This one is not currently settled as it was mostly ruins. But the Israeli town that grew right next to it is a testament to the way the modern state of Israel has reinvented itself in the homeland. We toured the Beit she'an ruins at night and it was magical. No other words to it. 

So, like Moshe, we spent some time being reminded of places where important things happened in the past. It was very rewarding as it helped us to connect ourselves to this old-new land.

But Moshe also talks about people. Those they have encountered, those who passed away and those who are present right here, right now. People are important to remember because they are a direct connection to our personal past. This week I met with some relatives that I haven't seen for about 35 years. We had a "Fourth of July" party in the backyard. In the best tradition of their ancestors, my kids complained about the food. "A Fourth of July party without potato chips????" So one cousin called another and potato chips were picked along the way to the party and peace was restored.  We had food at the party, you understand, just not potato chips. Oh well. I guess it's a genetic thing. You're Jewish - you're a complainer. 

The guests brought all kinds of salads. Most of them phenomenal. Here is a carrot salad, made by my cousin Orly. Let me tell you first that my whole family hates carrot salads. Raw or cooked, savory or sweet, we don't care, we hate them all. I simply tasted the salad to be polite. Then I went back for seconds, thirds and fourths. Then I forced everyone to try it, ignoring their "But I hate carrot salad" protests. Everyone was surprised by how awesome it is. I asked for the recipe (well, duh!) and I could not believe it when Orly listed the ingredients.  How can something so simple taste so good?

Cousin Orly's Carrot Salad

10 large carrots, peeled, cut into thin matchstick size pieces and then halved (you should have pieces that are 1/2 an inch long with the thickness of a matchstick). I assume there is a way to do it with a food processor or one of these mandolin gadgets.

1/4 cup vegetable or canola oil

1/4 cup white vinegar

2 Tbs brown sugar

1 tsp salt

3/4-1 cup of really thin chives, chopped (not too small, about 1/2 inch long pieces)



Whisk together oil, vinegar, salt and sugar.
Mix carrots and chives. Add dressing and toss. 
Serve chilled.

Serves 8 (except it's so yummy it will never be enough for eight.)



And besides the food, we spent most of the evening remembering when. History, personal and national, is essential to understand in order to figure out who we are, what we're doing here and where we are going next. Just like the Israelites needed to do.

Spooky

Sometimes I am totally spooked by how apt the weekly parasha is to what is happening in my life right now.

This week, the Israelites are camped by the river Jordan, on the non-Kna'an side, opposite Yericho. Now, Yericho is on the way to the Dead Sea, if you're trying to get there from the middle of the country.  We did. This week. And let me tell you, it was hot. Phew, was it hot. Even the water in the water trough (I have no other name to describe it) were hot. Almost tea temperature. My oldest child said "You can take the money from my college fund, just get me some cold water". She was right, too, the water cost a lot. Oh well, as hubby said "When we spend money here, it's the most direct American Aid possible."

Another thing in the parasha is a description of how many Midyanites the Israelites killed. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not opposed to self defense or even pure revenge, and this one was divinely ordered. But when I read it, I feel extremely uncomfortable. Wow, these are a lot of dead people. The Israelites were led in this slaughter by the zealot Pinchas. And the priest Elazar. Before we dipped into the sea of salt, we climbed a mountain in the desert where another zealot, named Elazar, was responsible for another slaughter. The story of Massada is awe inspiring and the place is breath taking, but, for better or worse, it is a story about zealotry and slaughter. 

I am proud of Massada and appreciate the inspiration its story provided for the spirit of Israel, especially the Israeli army. We spent the night in a camp at the foot of the mountain and there was a group of soldiers there. Hubby and I chatted with them and let me tell you, they were so young, so sweet, so amazing, that I had tears in my eyes.


It is thousands of years after the Israelites killed all those Midyanites. It is thousands of years after Elazar Ben Yair ordered his people to kill their loved ones and themselves in order to rob the Romans of their victory. It is thousands of years and we are still fighting for our safety. Our wonderful young men and women are still required to kill and be killed. And there are still zealots (on both sides) leading everyone into battle. Oy, Master of the Universe, will there ever be peace for your people?

So I came up with the following "sort of comfort food". Maybe if everyone will eat more carbs, people will be relaxed and not feel the need to fight so much. Hey, we've tried everything else, what have we got to lose?

Peace Potatoes

1/4-1/3 cup olive oil (I know, I know, but we're aiming for comfort here, right?)
2 large onions, thinly sliced
10-12 medium potatoes (I don't know, maybe 2-3 pounds? I just kept peeling), peeled and diced (about 1/2-3/4  inch cubes)
1 tsp each: cumin seeds, coriander seeds and turmeric.
1/2 tsp curry powder (I used something called madras curry, whatever that is. You can use regular, try to find the madras thingie or just add another spice of your choice, instead)
salt to taste


In a large skillet, saute onions in 1/4 cup oil over medium high heat until starting to brown.
Add spices (except salt) and cook another minute or so, until spices smell really nice.
Add potatoes and stir well. You may need to add more oil if the skillet seems "dry". The more oil you add, the better this will taste and you can always tell yourself that olive oil is good for you.
Cook for 4-5 minutes over medium high heat, stirring frequently and scraping the bottom of the skillet really well.
Lower the heat to low, cover the skillet and cook for another 10-15 minutes, stirring and scraping occasionally, until potatoes are soft. 
Add salt to taste.

I have no idea how many this serves as I finished the leftovers by myself. But it fed six people and I had about a third left over. So say 8 servings?



And please add a prayer for peace to whatever form of prayer you use. On second thought, maybe a prayer for peace is not specific enough. Let's pray for sanity.