Hurry up and get there! Only one more Monday night left!

Every Monday in July, shuk Machaneh Yehudah throws a huge street party. It’s the rowdy Balabasta festival. The punning name celebrates  basta (produce stand), ba’al ha’basta (owner of the stand), balabusta (housewife), and the culture of the open market in Jerusalem.

I went to see it for myself this week, just me and my camera. The shops and vendors were doing great business.

Here and there bands played and people gathered to listen. In one little space, youngsters sang old songs of aliyah and Eretz Israel. I loved this red-haired girl, who sang in a fresh alto and blew a mean trombone too.

A rooftop concert rocked the crowd (pictured above).The band is called Acharit HaYamin, and sounds were rock, reggae, psalms set to heart-banging Yemenite/jazz fusion – all Israeli, punctuated at intervals by enthusiastic ululations from the crowd or the rooftop stage.

Yes, it was crowded. But it was a friendly crowd, everyone giving way to old folks or women pushing strollers, everyone intent on just having fun. It felt safe, it felt homey.

This band was playing an amusing, cool-jazz version of the “Pink Panther” theme.

Something for everyone: whimsical fairytale figures to entertain the kids

I stood slightly to one side, taking photos and moving with the music and watching the people.

One delicatessen intelligently set up a stand of cheeses and wine by the glass. It was fun to stand in the middle of the shuk and the noise and the surging crowd, savoring Cabernet Sauvignon.

I felt an multi-layered emotion I couldn’t describe.When the musicians sang of peace, of our longing for peace one day, and the people shouted “Amen!” I stood like a fool among all those people, with tears in my eyes.

Sweaty heat and the cooling Jerusalem breeze as the evening set in. Loud, cheerful music, Jerusalemites dancing in the ancient street, the stone buildings that have seen so much of struggle, war, and the everlasting everyday. Smells of fresh bread, sewage, something acrid and smoky, grilled meat.

I longed to suspend the moving, living moment like a scene in a movie. Soon it would dissolve into memory, and our transient wonder and enjoyment, placed fleetingly over the eternal, were already becoming the past.

It came to me so clearly then, how we are born, live, and die, and Jerusalem – Jerusalem is forever.

Get an excellent, printable, English map of the shuk here.

Creamy salmon topped with radish sprout stalks on a bed of puréed peas, accompanied by fresh-corn polenta (different from my corn-meal based polenta) – and a Parmesan crisp. Oh my gosh.

It was a fabulous lunch at the Inbal Hotel in Jerusalem. The management had invited the English food bloggers to taste and critique the new summer menu. We sat down to feast at the elegant Sofia restaurant and raved over the food.

Chef Moti Buchbut presented each portion, giving us the details for us to identify the layers of flavors as they come up. The theme for this summer at the elegant Italian-dairy restaurant is sweet/salty. It works, especially with the very subtle flavors that Buchbot knows how to combine.

“Melanza” – smoked eggplant with roasted pepper, mozzarela, and a crisp filo envelope, lightly lying on dribbles of balsamic reduction and cream and white wine and pesto. Cubes of tomato, sprinkles of Atlantic sea salt.

We tasted and gasped in delight. This is not home cooking, folks. Unless you’re a multiple medal-winning chef like Buchbut. There was a delicious, lingering aftertaste that reminded me of something I’d eaten long ago…something smoked. I couldn’t place it, but if I get a chance to eat this dish again, I will.

I’m not going to go into ecstatic detail over every dish. I really can’t do justice to the melting flavors, the pleasing texture contrasts, the feeling of gladness that such food gives you.

Like this ceviche, with its marinated tuna and jewel-like vegetables and citrus fruit cubes.

Blogger Ariella Amshalem and I thought that the plump green leaves might be purslane, a summertime wild edible. That would have made this forager happy. But it was equally delicious sunflower sprouts. When I asked chef Buchbut if he wouldn’t consider cooking with wild edibles, he explained that the restrictions of mehadrin kashrut don’t allow it. Never mind, the dish was an entire success.

Beautiful works of culinary art, meant to be destroyed with fork and eaten. Once you’ve finished discussing all the succulent details with fellow bloggers, writing down tasting notes, and taking photos, that is.

Cannelloni stuffed with Swiss chard and four cheeses, with tomato and roast pepper sauces. Um, um, um.

We were served 12 tastings in all. If you’re wondering how we managed to put all that food away, let me say now that our portions were much smaller than average. That allows tasting without getting to the stage where it takes a crane to hoist you out of your chair.

Linguini with pesto and strips of zucchini – hey, that could be a song. In fact, people have always sung about food. Well, I’ll refrain from getting poetic here, although this pasta certainly sang in the mouth. It had the characteristic rough texture of home-made pasta, and the mild pesto with vegetables complemented it nicely. We wisely ate only half the portion, though, to leave room for the next.

Blogger Jewlicious live-tweeted the event with photos, till his Twitter followers begged him to stop because it made their stomachs rumble.

Seared red tuna, on a bed of pureed potatoes and accompanied by spinach stuffed with polenta. It looks like a Japanese furoshiki bundle, doesn’t it? The spinach, that is. The tuna was one of the most delicious things I’ve tasted, period.
Blogger Ariella Fixler (Bishul B’ketzev Salsa – Hebrew) received her portion in a beautiful copper pan – she’s a pal of the chef, what can I say.

You must be wondering if we’re ever going to get to the desserts. Well, the first of the two was “Magic Meringue.”

Special and luxurious are inadequate to describe this. An egg-shaped meringue shell concealing passiflora-flavored mascarpone, creme Chantilly and honey, accompanied by coconut sorbet. Raspberry sauce under. You crack the “egg open and the yellow mascarpone comes spilling out…just artistry. Not to mention the sweet deliciousness of it.

The second dessert was an almond twill stuffed with mocha cream and nogatine, on caramelized banana slices with orange sorbet and whipped Belgian chocolate.

The dishes were well balanced for summer eating, with emphasis on bright flavors, light weight, and fresh local produce. Beautiful presentation in the currently fashionable way, with colorful accents from dribbles of coulis and cubes of this and that. I understand there were 10 more offerings at the next day’s tasting, which I didn’t attend.

The managers ate with us, all in their suits and ties (in contrast to the casual bloggers), and very attentive.

I became a little anxious to leave towards the end because I needed to buy a special ingredient for the next night’s dinner at home: duck. Not that I serve duck often – it was going to be a belated birthday party and I got it into my head that only duck would do.

I had planned to buy it in Tel Aviv, but it was getting late. Then I thought, there must be duck in Jerusalem.  So I asked if anyone knew where.

Mr. de Schuyter, general manager, said, “I can find out.” He murmured into his cellphone for a few minutes. Then he told me exactly where I could find duck. I did go there after the event and bought what I needed.

How cool was that?

Now, I’m not getting paid to post this. But if you’re in Jerusalem and get a chance to have a meal at the Inbal hotel, go there and eat. Give chef Moti Buchbut my regards.

Next – interview with the chef, plus a recipe.

There are better and more expensive places to eat, but I liked sitting where local people eat, liked eating popular Middle Eastern food in the night. In Yaffo, next to the sea and in the middle of the Old City.

I hadn’t counted on the street being ripped up for repairs of some kind, but we were a few steps away from the flea market, which was celebrating summer by keeping shops, eateries, and galleries open till midnight.

Behind us on Yefet Street, the illuminated Ottoman clock tower kept time. At nine o’clock it struck nine tinny notes, surprising us. A little later, the muezzin call to prayer echoed and swirled up and down the neighborhood.

There was music in the air while we were eating – loud Moroccan music, coming from somewhere nearby. I got up and wandered past the restaurant and its Moroccan decor, seeking the musicians.

See the guy in the striped shirt?

He’s entering a little cobblestoned alley. Set out in the alley are tables and people are eating fish and drinking wine.

A nargilah and a stack of shesh-besh (backgammon) sets waited for company.

I drew closer to the source of the music, feeling the plaintive oud, shivery violin, and thump of the darboukah drum in my bones.

A sign proclaims: Every Thursday: Moroccan Haflah (get-together)! Every Tuesday, Middle-Eastern  Night! Fridays, Kabbalat Shabbat with Oriental Singers! Fish and Mezze Served Free.

Across from the musicians, an open door. I peek in and behold a magical cavern hung with colorful rugs, set with tables invitingly holding tea glasses and coffee finjans.

What with the winding, nasal quarter notes in my ears and the lanterns swaying from their ceiling hooks and being full of shishlik, I felt I had been transported to Morocco itself, or maybe a movie version of it.

The Moroccan Dive, I called it. And went back to the restaurant, asking everyone to come see.

A large man wearing a cap backwards ushered us in, probably expecting us to order an ample meal. But we only had room for tea with sprigs of mint in it, and coffee. It turns out that the Moroccan Dive is managed by the same restaurant where we had dinner.

Four local guys in shorts sat near the front door, clapping and shaking to the music.

This old man wandered back and forth, dancing with gentle verve, stopping sometimes to talk to his friends.

We Anglos sipped our hot drinks and just soaked up the atmosphere…

…confident that we were well protected from the Evil Eye.

As we left the magical Moroccan cavern, we glimpsed this row of nargilah smokers lined up in the street, enjoying their perfumed tobacco, the smoke of which passes through water and is said to be extremely pleasant (if you smoke).

Have a nargilah, have a nargilah, have a nargilah, ve n’smecha…

The streets were moving with people seeking pleasure, music, a cold drink, a hot bourekas, something to gawk at. We moved among them.

No food photos, true. The ones I took were blurry. But you can see the kind of food we had in my previous post on a trip through Yaffo. And you’ll see the street in daylight. As for the restaurant: reasonable prices, food quality good but not exceptional, service obliging but a little lacksadaisical. Once the street gets fixed, it’ll be much more pleasant to sit there. But it was Yaffo, it was a night out with the bloggers, and it was great fun.

The bloggers: Sarah Melamed, Michelle Nordell (and husband Mr. B.T.), Hannah Katsman, Liz Steinberg, Ariella Darsa Amshalem, Mirjam Weiss, Irene Sharon Hodes and myself.

The need to visit Tsfat and see old friends had been growing in my mind, so one dusty day this week, I caught the bus northward. We rolled through sleepy towns with hot, deserted streets, stopping at stations where only soldiers and for some reason, elderly people carrying bundles, got on or off.

Magenta bougainvillea bushes and pink oleanders growing beside the highway gave way to  fields dotted with clumps of hollyhocks, sign of higher altitude and cool, moist land.

I was meeting Judy, an old Tsfat friend, in Rosh Pina. We were going to drive even farther north, beyond Kiryat Shmona where the River Dan runs and meets with the River Hatzbani. There, the lovely Dag al haDan restaurant serves fish taken right out of the river. You eat seated under fig and mulberry trees, and the river with ducks and swans paddling in it runs burbling next to your table.

It was a long bus ride to Rosh Pina. Plugged into my MP3, I nodded and swayed in my seat. The air-conditioning felt like a medical necessity as outside, yellow dust blew through the air, making it hard to breathe. After a wearisome time, there was distant sparkle of sun on water and then we were passing Lake Kinneret. The dust haze was lighter there, but the water was an ugly, roiling green, dashing up to the shore in short, hard little waves. The bad-tempered chamseen wind had all the elements in hand.

Do you know what a chamseen is? It’s the Arabic name for hot days when a dry, sandy wind scours the landscape. The word comes from the Arabic for fifty; supposedly there are fifty days of such weather each summer. In Hebrew, the name sounds elegant: sharav. But chamseen sounds elemental, something like the sound the wind itself makes as it swings around buildings, blows hot air like a hair dryer over field and garden, makes less sturdy trees bend.

It’s said that in old days, Arabs didn’t punish murders committed during the chamseen because the tormenting wind was known to deprive people of their reason.

We met, hugged, and got into Judy’s car. Now, whenever I get in the car with Judy, we get lost. We know it and enjoy it. We sing in harmony and laugh like the teenagers we once were, confident that eventually we’d find our way. This time, a wrong turn took us to a narrow road partly blocked by a big sign: “Stop! Border ahead!”

Good grief. We were going to wind up in Lebanon. Back we went, passing farmland and new vineyards. We were hot and hungry and yearning for a cold beer.

A friendly lady in another car gave us directions. At last, O joy – signs on the road pointing to Dag al haDan. The wind never stopped sifting a fine layer of dust over everything, but as we approached the restaurant, we sensed the sweet odor of water.

Old mulberry trees shaded the parking lot, where chickens and roosters pecked the ground for windfall fruit.

There was the outdoor grilling station.

This young man paused in his work grilling sea bass and trout to give us a hello and signal the waiters that more guests had arrived.

The sight and tempting odor of grilled fish made us slightly frantic.

Because of the unfriendly weather, guests were placed indoors. But the big windows looked out onto the river. We were content.

A goodly array of mezze, and that cold beer, kept us from falling down in a faint. There were fresh green fava beans in vinaigrette, pickled trout, babah ganoush and choumous, a chopped Israeli salad, excellent potatoes, a fiery grated carrot salad, spiced olives, and more.

I ordered sea bass, and Judy had the local trout. We were both delighted with the perfectly grilled fish, served with two sauces:a herby lemon/basil/mint sauce and one of almonds and cream.

I could have forgone the sauce, couldn’t I have?

But I didn’t. Nor did Judy and I  pass up the very good creme brûlée.

Here’s a good tutorial on making creme brûlée - the comments are worth studying too.

Replete and relaxed, we drove back to Tsfat in a leisurely way, talking life over and finishing all the conversations we had started and interrupted before. Was it worth all the travel and the dust and the driving?

Of course.

Dag Al HaDan

Kosher, Rabbanut Kiryat Shmonah

Open Sunday-Thursday for lunch and dinner.

04-6950225

dagaldan@zahav.net.il

If you’ve followed this blog for a while, you’ll know that street art is one of the things that makes me happy, or thoughtful, or just entertains me. I took a stroll through Neve Tsedek, an old, falling-down Tel Aviv neighborhood that’s recently become beautified, gentrified and yuppified into a posh artist’s colony. There I saw these expressions of life in the ordinary world.

A humble little synagogue adorns its entrance with a fancy door and a mosaic that proclaims : “A tree of life is she (the Torah) to those who cling to her…”

Another kind of tree grows on this corner…someone’s attempt to give the eyes something pretty to rest on. What amused me was the yellow arrow pointing left, opposite the street sign pointing right.

A noble old building, once a movie theater and now abandoned, adorned with the peculiar orange platypus-like figure that appears on walls all over Tel Aviv. What is the significance of this figure? Any guesses?

Here’s a  typical creature, on a wall on Sheinkin Street. It’s signed “Klone.” Nu, who is Klone, and why does he feel impelled to paint walls with this strange fantasy?

Notice the thoughtful stenciled portrait next to the Creature.

A stencil giving a tongue-in-cheek warning. Least, I hope that’s what it is.

I wonder about these stencils. Some are talented works of art. Who bends over them in some room, working out the feelings that float in his or her heart, to spray-paint them on the streets at night?

Passing a notice board, I snapped this photo thinking it announced some children’s event. Nooo…not really. The arabesque letters proclaim “Total bordello – 10001 nights!” And the names of some really hot DJs. Wowee zowee.

A virile angel…A hung-over cockroach speaking bad French.

From a jumble of anonymous buildings and waving marine plants, a cry of anguish.

A fish-woman sprouting from a flower similar to the one in the graffito above.

I envy these street artists and wish I could distill my own shifts of emotion like that.

But there is innocence, and the desire to protect innocence, in the middle of Tel Aviv’s  squalor and pain.

A poster calling for action against a proposed law deporting foreign worker’s children…

And last year’s poster celebrating Shavuot at the community center.

That idealized little person made me chuckle…no Israeli kid ever looked like that. But it was a pleasant thing to see.

That’s it for tonight…see you later, Reader.

]]> http://www.israelikitchen.com/just-for-fun/street-art-in-neve-tsedek/feed/ 7 http://www.israelikitchen.com/israeli-moments/meet-mimi-at-the-jerusalem-wine-festival/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=meet-mimi-at-the-jerusalem-wine-festival http://www.israelikitchen.com/israeli-moments/meet-mimi-at-the-jerusalem-wine-festival/#comments Mon, 02 Aug 2010 21:26:46 +0000 Mimi http://www.israelikitchen.com/?p=2842

It doesn’t seem like a year ago. The Jerusalem wine festival at the Israel Museum occurs again this week, from Tuesday the 3rd through Thursday the 5th of August. Gates open at 7:00 PM and the tastings go on till 11:00.

I’ll be there on Thursday night. If you recognize me, just ask, “Are you Mimi?” and see if I turn around with a big smile to ask your name in turn. Tell me you’re one of my readers, and you’ll be rewarded with a chocolate bonbon.

Thursday evening at the Israel Museum. And I’ll be with friends: Baroness Tapuzina and Mr. B.T. They’ll be happy to meet you too.

Hope to see you there!

]]> http://www.israelikitchen.com/israeli-moments/meet-mimi-at-the-jerusalem-wine-festival/feed/ 0 http://www.israelikitchen.com/just-for-fun/interviewed-by-ilana-davita/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=interviewed-by-ilana-davita http://www.israelikitchen.com/just-for-fun/interviewed-by-ilana-davita/#comments Sun, 16 May 2010 07:35:54 +0000 Mimi http://www.israelikitchen.com/?p=2504 Ilana-Davita lives in France and blogs Jewish social commentary and recipes. Just today an interview with me went up on her blog, so come and find out a little more about me here.

The Chocolate Lady doesn’t post often, but her Pesach Survival Guide is wonderful. If you like humorous, useful foody prose laced with Yiddishisms – go there, gentle reader, go there.

Sarah Melamed of Foodbridge and I will be leading a nature walk through the rocky hillsides close to Kfar Uriyah and the forest near Tarum – on Friday morning, January 8th.  Sarah is a plant biologist with a lifelong passion for nature and I have studied edible and medicinal plants for the past 15 years.

We will meet at 9:300 AM at Nachshon Junction, the intersection of road 44 and 3, about 10 minutes south of Ramla Please bring sensible walking shoes, a field guide if you own one, and plenty of water. The walk will take 1-1/2 to 2 hours.

We hope to show you where the wild things grow. Things like

za’atar

cyclamens

and

flowering almond trees.

Most of these wild edibles and medicinals are protected by law, so it won’t be a foraging expedition but rather an Exploration. Like Winnie the Pooh’s Expedition to the North Pole, only here in Israel.

If you’d like to join us (and you don’t have to be a blogger for this, just a nature lover), email me – my green contact tag floats along the side of the blog on the left. Or email Sarah at Sarah.Melamedatgmaildotcom.