B&B and Beyond

Had I known that, in Haifa, I'd be joining the owners of my B&B for Shabbat dinner, I would not have eaten the massive slice of cheesecake AND the Druze Pita earlier that day. Nearly stuffed to the gills, I continued my drive through two Druze towns, Daliyat el Carmel and Isfiya, whose stucco houses are built into the hills, eventually ascending Mount Carmel. Even though the clouds were thick I enjoyed some panoramic views of Haifa and its impressive port before dipping a bit into the city.

I arrived to my B&B on late Friday afternoon and met Edit, one of the owners, who showed me my high-ceilinged room. It was simple and clean, with a colorful coverlet on the bed and, most important of all, with a working heater! [so far, the heaters I've encountered here are large rectangular boxes, positioned near the ceiling, that plug into the wall and double as air conditioners in warmer months]. Edit turned it on, the roomed warmed up, and I sacked out. Virginia Woolf mostly got it right when she said a woman needs A Room of One's Own. Make that a heated Room of One's Own.

The Shabbat guests included three generations, with three of Edit's four children, a daughter-in-law, a grandchild, and two other guests besides myself. The fact that Edit and her husband are vegetarians did not make the Shabbat meal any less elaborate than the others I've experienced in Israel, and I was faced with the seemingly impossible task of eating a multicourse meal and expanding my stomache beyond any previously known capacity.

Somehow, I managed.

We started with an artichoke apiece, followed by a cauliflower and tomato soup, then enormous stuffed mushrooms, a vegetarian cholent (one of those East European dishes that defies a succinct description), fresh salad, a sweet potato dish, homemade wholewheat challah and, for dessert, a chocolate mousse artfully decorated with chocolate sauce and a wafer. The wine (a kosher Merlot - wish I could remember the name!) was excellent and at the very end of the meal I was treated to a taste of Tres Generaciones tequila, which had been brought back from the US for the foodie in the family, one of Edit's two sons.

The digestive requirements of the meal were so great that nearly all the blood left my brain, making it impossible for me to even attempt Hebrew. The entire family speaks excellent English (Edit was born in NJ) and, as it turned out, have spent some time in Boston. The foodie (a former Toscanini's employee), raved about an appetizer I should try at one of the Portuguese restaurants in Cambridge. I'm keeping it a secret until I get home. Meanwhile, I will try to save some room for it!

P.S. If you are wondering about the "Breakfast" part of the B&B, because of Shabbat there was none, which was beyond fine with me. I would not have been able to eat another bite.

Auto Adventure

There are perhaps a dozen of us living at the Ulpan and by the time classes end on Thursday afternoon, many of us are itching for a change of scenery, of food, and for a break from the routine, the cold rooms, the kvetchy weather and from each other. Many people take off for the weekend, and those who don't have other ways of managing: one woman has her hair done every week. After spending many hard-won hours waiting for, and using, the Internet last week plotting my escape, I hit the road on Friday morning.

Israelis have a reputation as lousy and dangerous drivers, but as a Boston driver who had a year-long apprenticeship in the passenger seat of numerous Mexico City taxicabs, I felt equal to the challenge. I hopped into my rented Hyundai Getz and off I went, heading north on the coastal road, Highway 2. Accompanied by the lively sounds of Israeli pop music, I was Queen of the Road, zipping around the Holy Land in my cute car, feeling like a million bucks.

My first stop was Zichron Ya'akov (Remembrance of Jacob), a relatively affluent community in Israel's wine country, nestled in the hills with a view of the sea. My parking karma was in working order and, without much ado, I found a convenient spot. After browsing in several arty clothing boutiques I realized I was hungry and started to investigate restaurants. I guess part of me was still dying for dessert, as I found myself tempted by the Motek (Sweet) Cafe, with its hot pink decor and a luscious pastry case. Forget a real lunch, I was going for the cheese cake, a substantial wedge accompanied by raspberry sauce and a lemon wedge. To wash it down I ordered a dark hot chocolate, which arrived as a cup of steamed milk poured over chocolate chips. I was skeptical of this concoction, but after the chocolate dissolved so did my doubts. Mmm! The indulgence, plus tip, set me back 50 shekels (about $12), a somewhat outrageous sum.

Forget Ya'akov....I think I'll remember this town as Zichron Cheesecake.

Satisfied, and with the rain beginning anew, I started up the car and headed further into the hills, towards some Druze villages. The road wound its way upward through olive groves and before long I spotted a roadside stand, marked by an Israeli flag. By the time I realized I wanted to check it out I couldn't safely stop, so I drove further and made a U-turn. It turned out to be one of the first of many similar stands along the road where the Druze sell their olives, special yogurt cheese and pickled vegetables, and make their famous Druze Pita, a delicious flat round bread filled with cheese, rolled into a wrap, and baked over hot coals.

To be continued.....

Upping the Bet

At my (former) teacher's suggestion, I've moved up another level, known as "Bet +" (pronounced "Ploos"). I had enjoyed the people and the teacher in level "Bet" but the minimal homework had been a snap and the class moved too slowly for me. It was underwhelming and I came specifically to Ulpan Akiva to be overwhelmed, or at least extremely challenged.

The first lesson in "Bet +" was a real shocker. People straggled in late, many struggled to pronounce basic words in Hebrew, and a sizeable chunk of them had not done the homework. Not to generalize, but there are more men (and they Russian men) in this class than in the others, and perhaps that has contributed to the less than dynamite dynamic. The class was conducted at the same plodding pace as "Bet", albeit with more difficult content. I had been hoping that the new class would be more synaptically stimulating but perhaps that is just another variation of "the grass is greener...." thoughts that seem to colonize my mind.

My new teacher is excellent, but as she pleaded with the students today, there is only so much she can do to help us progress if students are not putting in the time. Let's hope that they will. It's hard for me to believe that these new immigrants lack a pressing incentive!

Bushwhacking and Buddha

The bushwhacking of my neural pathways continues, clearing the debris that impedeshe recall and use of the Hebrew I used to know as a teenager. So far some large branches have been pushed aside and a faint trail is now visible. While out walking today, someone in a car even stopped to ask me for directions and I was able to communicate that "I don't know" and "I don't live here." However, I keep stumbling on pebbles of words, of but one syllable and two letters, which sound the same in a few languages but mean very different things.

In Hebrew "mi" means "who" and "ma" means what. Easy enough, except that in Hungarian "mi" means "what" and "ma" means "today", and for some reason when I want to ask in Hebrew (say, at the pastry shop), "What's that (Ma zeh?)", I often end up saying, "Who's that (Mi zeh)?".

Ma-ma-mi-a!

And for some reason when I want to say "I" in Hebrew ("ani"), I produce the Hungarian word "en" (pronounced "ayn"), which in Hebrew means, "there is not".

So, there is not I.

I think it took Buddha a long time to come to this conclusion.

Dying for Dessert

The food at the Ulpan is plentiful, colorful, mostly healthful and occasionally beautiful. It is served buffet style, with an area for hot food and a large round table on which cold foods are arranged.

Last night there was new addition to the table, whole roasted red peppers snuggled on a square platter bordered by precisely placed semicircular slices of lemon. I was thrilled by the shapes and colors and by the fact that someone in the kitchen had taken such care with the food. Another visual and edible treat is the frequently served salad heaped with ribbons of purple and white cabbage, yellow peppers and carrots.

The Ulpan mostly does not attempt dessert and probably should not even try. For some reason, it hasn't occurred to them to just serve fresh fruit every day. Today's pareve concoction at least had aesthetic appeal - individual cocktail cups filled with a dark chocolate substance, somewhere between a custard and a jello, topped with pastel dots of sugar - but it lacked depth. The poor thing, made of water and cocoa powder, would simply never have the richness of a true pudding. Other dessert flops that have made appeared so far include a foil wrapped cone of faux chocolate covering an air-whipped ersatz cream center, and Hoodsie-style tofutti of a dubious shade of taupe.

Baruch hashem, as it's said here ("Blessed is the Name"), there is a sleek cafe within a 20-minute walk that serves small cheese pastries dusted with confectioners' sugar. They are more refined and delicate than American cheese danish, and their shape and construction remind me of Hungarian turos taska ("cheese pouches"), with pastry folded over the four sides of a sweet cheese center. At two shekels (50 cents) apiece, they are an affordable indulgence. Wait - make that an affordable necessity. For the non-kosher amongst us, who can enjoy these after a meat meal, they are a mechaya (lifesaver!).

The Salads of Caesaria

Forget Caesar salads. They pale in comparison to the smorgasbord of salad appetizers that were presented to me and a friend at a sun soaked and bustling seaside restaurant in Caesaria. The waiter, tanned and silverhaired, brought over a tray brimming with small white plates. With a fluorish and a wide smile, he placed them on the table, one after another after another after another, until the entire surface was covered with colorful and delectable dishes.

Where to begin? With roasted and sliced red peppers shimmering in olive oil, taramosalata topped with chopped red onion, tomatoes and cucumbers, roasted and pureed eggplant, hummus, tahini or the smoked salmon? All were accompanied by crunchy toasted bread topped with olive oil and basil.

To wash it all down we drank a few carafes of lemonade with mint leaves.

The salads more than satisfied, but I still managed to eat an entire grilled fish afterwards.

Aah!

Zayinism

Hebrew letters are fascinating characters, each having a distinct personality and appearance. Take, for example, the seventh letter, Zayin (ז). An American-born Israeli told me the other day that, ahem, it resembles a certain part of male anatomy.

In contemporary Hebrew slang, a Zayin can be used to replace existing letters to create a new, juicier meaning of the original word.

The example given to me was as follows. The word for friend is ידיד pronounced "yedid".

Replacing the second and fourth letters (from right to left) with a Zayin yields יזיז

This new word, "yeziz", means "friend with benefits". I thought that was quite clever, actually, even if I'm not partial to the concept.

If anyone thinks that there are no young Zayinists in Israel, they're wrong.