Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; June 28, 2007
Benedict is a welcome concept, where breakfast is a fashion as much as it is a meal.
It's 11:30 a.m., and I figure it's getting a little late for breakfast. But at Benedict in Tel Aviv, the city that never sleeps, it's never too late for breakfast. Or actually, it's never too early for breakfast.
"You'll hear 'good morning' here all the time," explained Yair Kindler, co-owner and visionary of Benedict. Six years ago, Kindler thought of this new concept as a business idea: a breakfast restaurant open 24/7. He realized this vision about a half year ago.
Located on the corner of Ben-Yehuda and Jabotinsky streets, Benedict has the look and feel of a French cafe- bistro - with its white brick walls, round wooden tables and a shelf with decorative books; but Kindler stresses that Benedict is a restaurant, specializing and excelling in one genre of food: breakfast. Benedict truly is a brilliant idea, especially for a city where bars get busy only at midnight and night prowlers seek munchies at ghostly hours.
"Breakfast is not just a course on the menu, but a whole genre of food," says Kindler, who believes that in Israel, people eat "breakfast foods" all the time, especially light "dinners" such as omelets and yogurts.
After six months in business, Benedict is already the talk of the morning. Blame it on the gimmick, or on the darn good breakfasts.
I order, of course, Eggs Benedict, but as a non-pork eater, I opt for the Eggs Benedict Florentine (with spinach) for NIS 44. As legend has it, explains Kindler, the dish was created in 1894 by Lemuel Benedict at New York's Waldorf-Astoria when he craved a meal to treat a hangover - and I can understand its curative powers. The ghastly amounts of fat are sure to absorb any alcohol in the system.
The eggs were perfectly poached, which is a welcome feat in a country which I have found translates "over easy" into "sunny side up slightly scrambled." The yolk was perfectly preserved inside fluffy whites. The hollandaise sauce, the same color as the yolk, soaked the toast beneath, maybe a bit too much. If I thought I came for breakfast, I finished the meal feeling like I had just eaten a heavy dinner. I could hardly move, and I realized that it's a dish better shared. But it was well worth the rich taste.
All egg dishes come with a plate of refillable, home- baked breads and bread sticks, baked in an oven on view at the "bread bar." The rolls are fresh and soft, mouthwatering like biscuits, and perfect for spreading Nutella, which is served as a condiment on every table. Morning cocktails are mixed at the bread bar all hours of the day. There are many servers to keep up with the traffic, and they are all friendly and helpful.
Egg breakfasts range from NIS 36 (shakshuka) to NIS 79 (Texas- style breakfast, i.e. steak and eggs), with several international varieties to satisfy both dairy and meat lovers. While only seven formal egg dishes are listed on the menu, the eggs are merely the medium, and the cheeses, vegetables, and meats (including ham) are the colors of the palette mixed to create breakfast masterpieces. The egg breakfasts come with coffee and juice (go for the freshly squeezed O.J. and not the factory-bought lemonade).
For those watching their cholesterol intake, there are a few healthier options, like salads and muesli. Waffles and pancakes aren't as generously represented on the menu as they would be, say, at International House of Pancakes (IHOP), probably the closest American concept to a "breakfast" restaurant.
Benedict isn't suited for people who want to perch for a few hours with a laptop. It is, after all, a restaurant, or more like an edible breakfast gallery, where breakfast is a fashion as much as it is a meal.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Go, go Gao (restaurant review)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; June 14, 2007
Meaning "a step forward" in Thai, Gao is a kosher Thai kitchen located on Tel Aviv's Rehov Hahashmonaim. The name struck a chord, owner Amir Adar says, because he sought a "step forward" after he had to close his dairy restaurant in Safed after the Second Lebanon War made business plummet.
Gao, however, is a step forward in other ways as well. It offers quality, fresh and authentic kosher Thai cuisine in a very clean, sleek, modern setting. Portraits of Japanese graffiti and gibberish on the walls seem like a non-sequitur but contribute to the cute, easy vibe of the joint.
Gao food can best be characterized as "gourmet fast food." "Gourmet" because of the quality of the raw materials, the attention to detail by the Thai chefs and the consistent standards; "fast" because the meals are prepared quickly and Gao specializes in take-out. The menu offers a very large selection of classic Thai dishes, making Gao a lunch-hour favorite for businesses in the restaurant-packed area.
I started with the egg rolls (NIS 9), served aesthetically on white ceramic. While the flavor was fine but no more, it was clear the preparation wasn't hasty or haphazard. The fish noodles (NIS 38), a Thai concoction of salmon, leek, spinach and cashews, was very good, with just the right blend of soy and ginger.
The same quality was evident in the Beef Gao (NIS 37), tempura beef made with crunchy raw sweet potato, onions, carrots, peppers and cashews. Because of its rich flavor, I would have rather it came with white rice, rather than the mediocre flavored rice I was served for absorbing the rich sauce.
The prices here are reasonable, especially considering the generous portions.
On Friday Gao has an excellent 20 percent off deal, which makes it a recommended Shabbat take-out option. For NIS 100 you can buy a Friday night meal that can serve at least four people, if you fancy Asian cuisine for Shabbat. I heated up the chicken Gao Pat Kati on Friday evening. Of course, it lost some of its freshness and the oil sank to the bottom, but for NIS 30, the tasty chicken/ broccoli dish was more than worth it.
Gao, Rehov Hahashmonaim 91, Tel Aviv.
Tel. (03) 561-3553. Kosher.
Meaning "a step forward" in Thai, Gao is a kosher Thai kitchen located on Tel Aviv's Rehov Hahashmonaim. The name struck a chord, owner Amir Adar says, because he sought a "step forward" after he had to close his dairy restaurant in Safed after the Second Lebanon War made business plummet.
Gao, however, is a step forward in other ways as well. It offers quality, fresh and authentic kosher Thai cuisine in a very clean, sleek, modern setting. Portraits of Japanese graffiti and gibberish on the walls seem like a non-sequitur but contribute to the cute, easy vibe of the joint.
Gao food can best be characterized as "gourmet fast food." "Gourmet" because of the quality of the raw materials, the attention to detail by the Thai chefs and the consistent standards; "fast" because the meals are prepared quickly and Gao specializes in take-out. The menu offers a very large selection of classic Thai dishes, making Gao a lunch-hour favorite for businesses in the restaurant-packed area.
I started with the egg rolls (NIS 9), served aesthetically on white ceramic. While the flavor was fine but no more, it was clear the preparation wasn't hasty or haphazard. The fish noodles (NIS 38), a Thai concoction of salmon, leek, spinach and cashews, was very good, with just the right blend of soy and ginger.
The same quality was evident in the Beef Gao (NIS 37), tempura beef made with crunchy raw sweet potato, onions, carrots, peppers and cashews. Because of its rich flavor, I would have rather it came with white rice, rather than the mediocre flavored rice I was served for absorbing the rich sauce.
The prices here are reasonable, especially considering the generous portions.
On Friday Gao has an excellent 20 percent off deal, which makes it a recommended Shabbat take-out option. For NIS 100 you can buy a Friday night meal that can serve at least four people, if you fancy Asian cuisine for Shabbat. I heated up the chicken Gao Pat Kati on Friday evening. Of course, it lost some of its freshness and the oil sank to the bottom, but for NIS 30, the tasty chicken/ broccoli dish was more than worth it.
Gao, Rehov Hahashmonaim 91, Tel Aviv.
Tel. (03) 561-3553. Kosher.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
History and trends blend in Jerusalem
The Jewish Journal; June 7, 2007
Click here for original
With style, fanfare and fireworks, the $400 million Mamilla Alrov commercial and residential quarter opened its Jerusalem stone doors to the public on May 28.
The only completed portion is a small section of the outdoor mall, but among its anticipated 138 stores are Israeli fashion chains and boutique shops, as well as high-end retail outfits like Tommy Hilfiger, MAC, Bebe, H. Stern and Ralph Lauren. To use a Los Angeles analogy, it may be fair to say that the Holy City has just welcomed its equivalent of The Grove.
Unlike The Grove, however, the Mamilla Alrov Quarter need not create artificial facades to evoke a historical texture. Built on the historic Rehov Mamilla, the quarter has been a restoration project as much as an effort in capitalism.
It served as the first trading center outside the Old City walls at the turn of the century.
Visitors can walk along a street where Jordanian snipers fired at indigent Israelis who lived there in the years following the War of Independence. The French Catholic Convent of Saint Vincent de Paul stands oddly between the Israeli clothing shop Renuar and Erroca Eyewear. Even though the Old City is a tourist magnet on Shabbat and holidays, all stores will be closed on the holy days.
One aim of the project is to contribute style to an area associated more with political and religious tension rather than colorful trends: the Jaffa Gate right outside the Old City walls.
By 2008 the complex will include 50 luxury residences and the five-star Alrov Mamilla Jerusalem Hotel, all designed by world-renowned Israeli Canadian architect Moshe Safdie. The hefty price tags of the condos range from $1.1 million to $13 million. Today, roughly 35 percent of the Mamilla properties have already been sold, mostly to foreign residents.
The project has been many decades in the making and is considered among the most ambitious and contentious enterprises ever undertaken in the city. The visionary behind the project is real-estate magnate Alfred Akirov, who built Tel Aviv's Opera Tower and Treetop Towers. He and his associates endured long battles with government bureaucracy as well as environmental and religious groups objected to the construction of such a massive complex in an archeology-rich, hallowed neighborhood.
Safdie designed the project with sensitivity to the site's archeology and history. Many of the historic structures have been restored or reassembled, using the original Jerusalem stone. One such structure is the Stern House, where Theodor Herzl stayed overnight during his visit to Jerusalem in 1898. The mall is generally proportionate with the architecture of the immediate environs. The greatest challenge in creating the complex has been "patience," Safdie said.
In a city often touted as one of the poorest and politicized in Israel, Safdie believes the project will bring a much-needed revival to the commercial and cultural landscape in Jerusalem.
"I think the project is a bridge and connection, by uniting the Old City with the new city, the Arab side with the Israeli side. I think it will bring life to the entire central business district," he said.
Those who still prefer the traditional Israeli shopping experience, where they can find bargains through old-fashioned haggling, can easily take a short walk down the path of the promenade, past the Jaffa Gate into the bustling shuk in the Arab Quarter.
"That's what it's all about," Safdie said.
Click here for original
With style, fanfare and fireworks, the $400 million Mamilla Alrov commercial and residential quarter opened its Jerusalem stone doors to the public on May 28.
The only completed portion is a small section of the outdoor mall, but among its anticipated 138 stores are Israeli fashion chains and boutique shops, as well as high-end retail outfits like Tommy Hilfiger, MAC, Bebe, H. Stern and Ralph Lauren. To use a Los Angeles analogy, it may be fair to say that the Holy City has just welcomed its equivalent of The Grove.
Unlike The Grove, however, the Mamilla Alrov Quarter need not create artificial facades to evoke a historical texture. Built on the historic Rehov Mamilla, the quarter has been a restoration project as much as an effort in capitalism.
It served as the first trading center outside the Old City walls at the turn of the century.
Visitors can walk along a street where Jordanian snipers fired at indigent Israelis who lived there in the years following the War of Independence. The French Catholic Convent of Saint Vincent de Paul stands oddly between the Israeli clothing shop Renuar and Erroca Eyewear. Even though the Old City is a tourist magnet on Shabbat and holidays, all stores will be closed on the holy days.
One aim of the project is to contribute style to an area associated more with political and religious tension rather than colorful trends: the Jaffa Gate right outside the Old City walls.
By 2008 the complex will include 50 luxury residences and the five-star Alrov Mamilla Jerusalem Hotel, all designed by world-renowned Israeli Canadian architect Moshe Safdie. The hefty price tags of the condos range from $1.1 million to $13 million. Today, roughly 35 percent of the Mamilla properties have already been sold, mostly to foreign residents.
The project has been many decades in the making and is considered among the most ambitious and contentious enterprises ever undertaken in the city. The visionary behind the project is real-estate magnate Alfred Akirov, who built Tel Aviv's Opera Tower and Treetop Towers. He and his associates endured long battles with government bureaucracy as well as environmental and religious groups objected to the construction of such a massive complex in an archeology-rich, hallowed neighborhood.
Safdie designed the project with sensitivity to the site's archeology and history. Many of the historic structures have been restored or reassembled, using the original Jerusalem stone. One such structure is the Stern House, where Theodor Herzl stayed overnight during his visit to Jerusalem in 1898. The mall is generally proportionate with the architecture of the immediate environs. The greatest challenge in creating the complex has been "patience," Safdie said.
In a city often touted as one of the poorest and politicized in Israel, Safdie believes the project will bring a much-needed revival to the commercial and cultural landscape in Jerusalem.
"I think the project is a bridge and connection, by uniting the Old City with the new city, the Arab side with the Israeli side. I think it will bring life to the entire central business district," he said.
Those who still prefer the traditional Israeli shopping experience, where they can find bargains through old-fashioned haggling, can easily take a short walk down the path of the promenade, past the Jaffa Gate into the bustling shuk in the Arab Quarter.
"That's what it's all about," Safdie said.
Reaching new heights
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; Jun 7, 2007
There's a host of new and newly improved activities in Galilee and the Golan for the whole family to explore. Just don't mention the war.
What war? You mean to tell me there was a war around here? That was the question that crossed my mind as I traveled as part of a press tour to northern Galilee and the Golan Heights. The drying, straw-yellow hills of the Golan, now ripe with garlic and cherries, bore no sign of tragedy. The only occasional shadow in the pastoral landscape were the tanks at the side of the road participating in a massive army drill; a grim reminder of the predicted war with Syria.
Talk of war hardly came up in conversations with the tour guides and sites we visited. I'm not sure whether to attribute this to painful denial, optimistic dismissal or just plain defiance, but entrepreneurs and tourism professionals are holding nothing back in developing the north for the waves of tourists they expect this summer. Millions of dollars are being invested to build, upgrade and rehabilitate.
Yalla Nasrallah, as they say. Northern Israel blooms in summertime despite you.
Kfar Giladi: The Chicken-Coop Path
At night the bus turns into Kibbutz Kfar Giladi, and near the entrance several stone plaques surround a small, bare plot of land. Twelve soldiers were killed here by a direct rocket hit during the war.
We focus on other monuments: monuments in honor of the industry and creativity of the north. Seven former chicken coops will soon be transformed into a pastoral promenade for shops and galleries. The project, called in Hebrew Shvil Halulim (the chicken-coop path) was started a year and a half ago by Yaron Bar, a northern native who got his inspiration from time spent in South Africa.
"I saw ranches in South Africa where you can find all the local products, wines, foods, oils, art and all types of goods," Bar said. To give local artisans a platform to showcase and sell their wares, he leased the former coops from the kibbutz for 20 years.
Sivan Ravitz from Kibbutz Dan opened the first business on the developing promenade right after the war. Razei Hata'am ("The Secrets of Taste") is a boutique food shop selling gourmet spices, oils, cheeses, pastas, meats and also kitchenware in a colorful and aesthetic setting. Her shop was a risky endeavor, not necessarily because of the war, but because of its novelty.
"People in the region aren't aware of the possibilities of delicatessens or the things they can offer. The purpose of the store is to suggest more options to people. It's catching on, but it's something new. Even during Pessah, people saw it as a gift shop. They need to get used to it as a place where they can buy food for themselves."
Interest in the compound suffered in the wake of the war, but it is starting to pick up again. In a few weeks a housewares shop and an art gallery will open their doors.
Probably the most remarkable attraction at the compound comes at the end of the path in the form of an imposing, antique basalt structure that is now home to 1922, a meat and wine bar. Built by French designers in 1922, the structure was used first as a barn and then as a secret weapons storehouse.
Through creative lighting and steel and glass decor, contemporary Israeli designers have transformed the interior into an enchanting restaurant combining the antique and modern. The high ceilings, cracked walls, chandeliers and gray tone made me feel like the place was haunted, but in the end I only felt pleasantly haunted by the excellent taste and preparation of the beef and lamb steaks served.
Razei Hata'am: Sun.-Thurs. 10 a.m.-7 p.m., Fri., holiday eves 9 a.m.-4 p.m.;
Sat., holidays: 10 a.m.-5 p.m.,
(04) 694-6310
1922: Reservations: (04) 694-6646
The Wild Heights: Cowboy Village
It's a long, lonely ride to Kibbutz Merom Golan in the northern Golan, but this is where cowboy fantasies are realized.
Merom Golan has all the attractions to complete the experience: horse riding, tractor riding, a cattle ranch and a cowboy restaurant. Founded in 1997, the restaurant serves hickory-flavored chicken and smoky, grilled beef. The wooden logs adorned with posters of Clint Eastwood complete the Wild West theme.
Right behind the restaurant, the muscular Druse cowboy and horse trainer, William, led us on horse rides through the surrounding mountains on the rather tame and friendly horses. My horse, Pele, trailed behind the others and kept eating the shrubbery, but I still felt like a true cowgirl.
The scent of freshly chopped wood and fabrics fill beautiful cabins equipped with plasma televisions and mini Jacuzzis. These eight new additions to the kibbutz's existing boarding facilities are for tourists who like to live the cowboy good life. Another 12 units will be built in time for the High Holy Days.
Merom Golan: (04) 696-0267; www.meromgolantourism.co.il
Manara Cliff
For one minute, I was transformed into a rocket.
My most exhilarating moment in the north was flying through the air above Kiryat Shmona. For a few moments I dangled over this northern city, patches of Hula Valley farmland under my feet, the forests - some charred, some intact - in full view. It only took about 30 seconds to glide down the Omega human cable glide, but as the wind hit my face, I thought, what an eloquent answer to Nasrallah's Katyushas.
I reclaimed the northern skies.
Manara Cliff is known for its outdoor adventures, which also include rappelling and wall climbing. Forest fires damaged their 2- km.-long cable car ride, and the cliff reopened only last Pessah.
Manara cliff: NIS 49/NIS 59 (weekdays/weekends) for Omega cable glide.
NIS 95/NIS 105 for cable glide & activities. Between 4-5 p.m. daily, there's a happy hour with reduced rates. Tel 04-690-5830.
JNF Forests
JNF tour guides provide free tours of the forests overlooking the Galilee panhandle. It seems the European influence is not good for the north, at least in the field of greenery. Most of the damage in the last Lebanon war was incurred upon pine trees imported from Europe, which were too weak to withstand the heat and pressure. The JNF will rebuild the forest using more resilient, indigenous trees and greenery, such as oak.
With the backdrop of Lebanon and the Golan, our JNF tour guide gave us one of the most comprehensive explanations of the effects of the war.
THE BUREAU of Statistics has found that despite the war, internal tourism in the north has increased by about 5 percent this year, while foreign tourism has declined by about 10%. The increase can likely be attributed to Israeli solidarity.
But when I returned back to the center of the country, I realized there is another value to visiting spots hurt by the War. I couldn't help but feel inspired by the tenacity of the tourism and hotel operators and the local entrepreneurs. It's their energy, drive and hope that lend me to believe that despite all the heartache the north has undergone, the northern spirit largely remains indefatigable; a quality you can't see or read in a brochure - or ever really destroy.
There's a host of new and newly improved activities in Galilee and the Golan for the whole family to explore. Just don't mention the war.
What war? You mean to tell me there was a war around here? That was the question that crossed my mind as I traveled as part of a press tour to northern Galilee and the Golan Heights. The drying, straw-yellow hills of the Golan, now ripe with garlic and cherries, bore no sign of tragedy. The only occasional shadow in the pastoral landscape were the tanks at the side of the road participating in a massive army drill; a grim reminder of the predicted war with Syria.
Talk of war hardly came up in conversations with the tour guides and sites we visited. I'm not sure whether to attribute this to painful denial, optimistic dismissal or just plain defiance, but entrepreneurs and tourism professionals are holding nothing back in developing the north for the waves of tourists they expect this summer. Millions of dollars are being invested to build, upgrade and rehabilitate.
Yalla Nasrallah, as they say. Northern Israel blooms in summertime despite you.
Kfar Giladi: The Chicken-Coop Path
At night the bus turns into Kibbutz Kfar Giladi, and near the entrance several stone plaques surround a small, bare plot of land. Twelve soldiers were killed here by a direct rocket hit during the war.
We focus on other monuments: monuments in honor of the industry and creativity of the north. Seven former chicken coops will soon be transformed into a pastoral promenade for shops and galleries. The project, called in Hebrew Shvil Halulim (the chicken-coop path) was started a year and a half ago by Yaron Bar, a northern native who got his inspiration from time spent in South Africa.
"I saw ranches in South Africa where you can find all the local products, wines, foods, oils, art and all types of goods," Bar said. To give local artisans a platform to showcase and sell their wares, he leased the former coops from the kibbutz for 20 years.
Sivan Ravitz from Kibbutz Dan opened the first business on the developing promenade right after the war. Razei Hata'am ("The Secrets of Taste") is a boutique food shop selling gourmet spices, oils, cheeses, pastas, meats and also kitchenware in a colorful and aesthetic setting. Her shop was a risky endeavor, not necessarily because of the war, but because of its novelty.
"People in the region aren't aware of the possibilities of delicatessens or the things they can offer. The purpose of the store is to suggest more options to people. It's catching on, but it's something new. Even during Pessah, people saw it as a gift shop. They need to get used to it as a place where they can buy food for themselves."
Interest in the compound suffered in the wake of the war, but it is starting to pick up again. In a few weeks a housewares shop and an art gallery will open their doors.
Probably the most remarkable attraction at the compound comes at the end of the path in the form of an imposing, antique basalt structure that is now home to 1922, a meat and wine bar. Built by French designers in 1922, the structure was used first as a barn and then as a secret weapons storehouse.
Through creative lighting and steel and glass decor, contemporary Israeli designers have transformed the interior into an enchanting restaurant combining the antique and modern. The high ceilings, cracked walls, chandeliers and gray tone made me feel like the place was haunted, but in the end I only felt pleasantly haunted by the excellent taste and preparation of the beef and lamb steaks served.
Razei Hata'am: Sun.-Thurs. 10 a.m.-7 p.m., Fri., holiday eves 9 a.m.-4 p.m.;
Sat., holidays: 10 a.m.-5 p.m.,
(04) 694-6310
1922: Reservations: (04) 694-6646
The Wild Heights: Cowboy Village
It's a long, lonely ride to Kibbutz Merom Golan in the northern Golan, but this is where cowboy fantasies are realized.
Merom Golan has all the attractions to complete the experience: horse riding, tractor riding, a cattle ranch and a cowboy restaurant. Founded in 1997, the restaurant serves hickory-flavored chicken and smoky, grilled beef. The wooden logs adorned with posters of Clint Eastwood complete the Wild West theme.
Right behind the restaurant, the muscular Druse cowboy and horse trainer, William, led us on horse rides through the surrounding mountains on the rather tame and friendly horses. My horse, Pele, trailed behind the others and kept eating the shrubbery, but I still felt like a true cowgirl.
The scent of freshly chopped wood and fabrics fill beautiful cabins equipped with plasma televisions and mini Jacuzzis. These eight new additions to the kibbutz's existing boarding facilities are for tourists who like to live the cowboy good life. Another 12 units will be built in time for the High Holy Days.
Merom Golan: (04) 696-0267; www.meromgolantourism.co.il
Manara Cliff
For one minute, I was transformed into a rocket.
My most exhilarating moment in the north was flying through the air above Kiryat Shmona. For a few moments I dangled over this northern city, patches of Hula Valley farmland under my feet, the forests - some charred, some intact - in full view. It only took about 30 seconds to glide down the Omega human cable glide, but as the wind hit my face, I thought, what an eloquent answer to Nasrallah's Katyushas.
I reclaimed the northern skies.
Manara Cliff is known for its outdoor adventures, which also include rappelling and wall climbing. Forest fires damaged their 2- km.-long cable car ride, and the cliff reopened only last Pessah.
Manara cliff: NIS 49/NIS 59 (weekdays/weekends) for Omega cable glide.
NIS 95/NIS 105 for cable glide & activities. Between 4-5 p.m. daily, there's a happy hour with reduced rates. Tel 04-690-5830.
JNF Forests
JNF tour guides provide free tours of the forests overlooking the Galilee panhandle. It seems the European influence is not good for the north, at least in the field of greenery. Most of the damage in the last Lebanon war was incurred upon pine trees imported from Europe, which were too weak to withstand the heat and pressure. The JNF will rebuild the forest using more resilient, indigenous trees and greenery, such as oak.
With the backdrop of Lebanon and the Golan, our JNF tour guide gave us one of the most comprehensive explanations of the effects of the war.
THE BUREAU of Statistics has found that despite the war, internal tourism in the north has increased by about 5 percent this year, while foreign tourism has declined by about 10%. The increase can likely be attributed to Israeli solidarity.
But when I returned back to the center of the country, I realized there is another value to visiting spots hurt by the War. I couldn't help but feel inspired by the tenacity of the tourism and hotel operators and the local entrepreneurs. It's their energy, drive and hope that lend me to believe that despite all the heartache the north has undergone, the northern spirit largely remains indefatigable; a quality you can't see or read in a brochure - or ever really destroy.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Pride and politics
Jerusalem Post, Up Front; June 1, 2007
In an interview, Emuna Elon describes how she is putting culture on the Orthodox agenda
Readers of Emuna Elon's columns in Ma'ariv and Yediot Aharonot over the past 15 years might find her debut novel, If You Awaken Love, a striking, unlikely diversion from her political crusading. In her novel, political rhetoric is cooled and sympathies are spread over the political Left and Right alike.
If You Awaken Love is not a morality tale, but a love story, or rather, an unrequited love story. The heroine, Shlomtzion, is not a settler, but part of the Yeshivat Merkaz Harav milieu in the 1970s, the hothouse for the growing religious-Zionist movement after the Six Day War. Once her engagement to her teenage love, Yair, is nixed by the rosh yeshiva, the heartbroken Shlomtzion rebels against and questions that world.
'Everything that happens to her and everything she thinks, I know. It's all a part of me... I haven't lived as a secular person, but I've lived the possibility of that,' Elon tells The Jerusalem Post over coffee at the Inbal Hotel in Jerusalem.
Elon is 52, soft-spoken but brimming with quiet, intense passion. Wisps of hair fall from her blue-and- white, flowery scarf. But her imagination reaches far beyond the rocky hills of her settlement of Beit El, north of Jerusalem, where she lives with her husband, MK Benny Elon.
'When asked how I took upon myself to describe the life of a secular person without living it, I answer that Shlomtzion, my heroine, is not secular, that she violates the laws of the Torah, but she remains religious in her way of thinking. It's obvious that she doesn't stop believing in God for one minute. Someone who doesn't believe in God doesn't bother to dedicate her life to defying Him.'
And defy Him she does. On the rebound, Shlomtzion remarries a handsome, rugged army officer, Rosy, whom she divorces because of her lingering yet impossible love for Yair. Shlomtzion lives the single life in Tel Aviv as a successful interior designer, and her daughter with Rosy, Maya, emerges as the correction to Shlomtzion's soured relationship with Yair. Maya's engagement to religious Zionism and to Yair's son, Ariel, forces Shlomtzion to confront her former love and values.
Arguments about the virtues and non-virtues of the Oslo Accords that take place at Shlomtzion's apartment and later at the fictitious settlement of Tirza (based on Beit El) constitute the few instances of Left-Right wrangling in the book.
'All of those leftist viewpoints are those I understand, and I feel them. I know what it is to believe in all these 'leftist' ideals because they're in me. I see myself as a right-winger who sees the complexity of the situation.'
She considers the living conditions of Palestinian refugees, described briefly in the novel, a tragedy she can't ignore, but she doesn't believe uprooting settlements will solve their plight.
However, she won't say that outright in her novel, which bears no blatant political message or prescription. Elon is quick to tell me that 'messer,' or 'message' in Hebrew, means 'knife' in Yiddish, which can 'cut' a work of literature. 'A novel should try to express things, not to say what is wrong and what is right, not to put things in boxes, not to suggest how to solve the problems. A novel should only express how difficult it all is and how beautiful and impossible and painful and fulfilling.'
AMONG THE early advocates of the book was, surprisingly, the staunch left-wing writer Amos Oz, with whom she had struck up a 16-year correspondence while studying literature under him at Ben-Gurion University. He introduced her novel to Keter, which published it in Hebrew in 2004. The friendship has fostered mutual understanding, but neither has backtracked on his or her political stance.
'This is the essence of the political conflict in Israel. We still have to survive here together, all of us. There are very deep and strong feelings of anger toward each other, but we're still in this together.'
In her own political circles, Elon has received more understanding and encouragement than disapproval. Some fellow settlers have commented that her novel portrays too much sympathy for leftist viewpoints or Palestinian distress, but Elon is not deterred by such criticism. Readers may not become automatic settler supporters, but they might look upon settlers with increased empathy.
'An extreme leftist called me and said, 'I didn't know you fall in love.' If someone learns from one of my books that people in settlements are people who also fall in love, who have questions and problems about life, people who are complex and real, this is also an achievement. That is enough for me... We're not posters or banners. We hurt, we feel, we're alive.'
For Elon, writing the novel served as a personal and professional awakening. While building her home in Beit El and working as a teacher of Judaism and literature as well as a political columnist, she didn't consider writing literature an effective, worthy or desirable endeavor for fashioning Israel according to religious-Zionist values.
'Somehow we were brought up to believe it's more important to study and write about Torah, to educate, to settle the land, to be involved in security missions in the army. Contemporary Israeli culture always took a backseat,' she explains.
Elon and her husband established a printing press in 1987, which published seven of her children's books. Her mid-40s marked a turning point. 'I felt that I reached an age in which I had to write literature. I could no longer push it off.' Currently she dedicates most of her time to teaching and working on her second novel.
The 2005 disengagement gave an extra boost to this career switch. Since the evacuation, which continues to pain her, she has taken a break from political journalism.
'I felt that my voice couldn't be heard right now, and I didn't feel like continuing to write for a newspaper that supported [the disengagement].'
Now she views arts and culture as a legitimate, powerful and even desirable way for people of her political persuasion to influence society. 'Sometimes I think maybe [the disengagement] would not have happened if we had 'settled' as much in culture as in the land.'
SHE PUTS much of her faith in the younger generation, who are less shy about their creative pursuits. 'Among our younger generation, there is a lot of involvement in literature, film, poetry.'
Her son, for example, a filmmaker, is publishing a book of his short stories and her son-in-law is the literary editor at Makor Rishon and author of a soon-to-be- published book of poetry.
'The optimism, power and creativity of the youth are expressed in the novel in the form of the successful and loving relationship between Maya and Ariel,' she says. 'The younger generation in the settlements doesn't need the bombastic declarations we used when we were younger. They just live as proud Israeli Jews.'
Toward the end of the novel, Maya and Ariel describe their vision for an idyllic, ecological settlement. Shlomtzion and Yair see their former selves in them, and Yair remarks: 'When we were your age, we too wanted to fix the world.' To which Ariel responds: 'We don't want to fix the world,' with Maya adding softly, 'Only ourselves.'
'This is the most optimistic saying of the book,' says Elon. 'That the future of Israel would look better because of the natural attitude of the youngsters who don't feel like they have to prove anything to anyone. They just want to live life because they want to live life. This is the real way of fixing the world, and eventually, of everyone fixing him or herself.'
In an interview, Emuna Elon describes how she is putting culture on the Orthodox agenda
Readers of Emuna Elon's columns in Ma'ariv and Yediot Aharonot over the past 15 years might find her debut novel, If You Awaken Love, a striking, unlikely diversion from her political crusading. In her novel, political rhetoric is cooled and sympathies are spread over the political Left and Right alike.
If You Awaken Love is not a morality tale, but a love story, or rather, an unrequited love story. The heroine, Shlomtzion, is not a settler, but part of the Yeshivat Merkaz Harav milieu in the 1970s, the hothouse for the growing religious-Zionist movement after the Six Day War. Once her engagement to her teenage love, Yair, is nixed by the rosh yeshiva, the heartbroken Shlomtzion rebels against and questions that world.
'Everything that happens to her and everything she thinks, I know. It's all a part of me... I haven't lived as a secular person, but I've lived the possibility of that,' Elon tells The Jerusalem Post over coffee at the Inbal Hotel in Jerusalem.
Elon is 52, soft-spoken but brimming with quiet, intense passion. Wisps of hair fall from her blue-and- white, flowery scarf. But her imagination reaches far beyond the rocky hills of her settlement of Beit El, north of Jerusalem, where she lives with her husband, MK Benny Elon.
'When asked how I took upon myself to describe the life of a secular person without living it, I answer that Shlomtzion, my heroine, is not secular, that she violates the laws of the Torah, but she remains religious in her way of thinking. It's obvious that she doesn't stop believing in God for one minute. Someone who doesn't believe in God doesn't bother to dedicate her life to defying Him.'
And defy Him she does. On the rebound, Shlomtzion remarries a handsome, rugged army officer, Rosy, whom she divorces because of her lingering yet impossible love for Yair. Shlomtzion lives the single life in Tel Aviv as a successful interior designer, and her daughter with Rosy, Maya, emerges as the correction to Shlomtzion's soured relationship with Yair. Maya's engagement to religious Zionism and to Yair's son, Ariel, forces Shlomtzion to confront her former love and values.
Arguments about the virtues and non-virtues of the Oslo Accords that take place at Shlomtzion's apartment and later at the fictitious settlement of Tirza (based on Beit El) constitute the few instances of Left-Right wrangling in the book.
'All of those leftist viewpoints are those I understand, and I feel them. I know what it is to believe in all these 'leftist' ideals because they're in me. I see myself as a right-winger who sees the complexity of the situation.'
She considers the living conditions of Palestinian refugees, described briefly in the novel, a tragedy she can't ignore, but she doesn't believe uprooting settlements will solve their plight.
However, she won't say that outright in her novel, which bears no blatant political message or prescription. Elon is quick to tell me that 'messer,' or 'message' in Hebrew, means 'knife' in Yiddish, which can 'cut' a work of literature. 'A novel should try to express things, not to say what is wrong and what is right, not to put things in boxes, not to suggest how to solve the problems. A novel should only express how difficult it all is and how beautiful and impossible and painful and fulfilling.'
AMONG THE early advocates of the book was, surprisingly, the staunch left-wing writer Amos Oz, with whom she had struck up a 16-year correspondence while studying literature under him at Ben-Gurion University. He introduced her novel to Keter, which published it in Hebrew in 2004. The friendship has fostered mutual understanding, but neither has backtracked on his or her political stance.
'This is the essence of the political conflict in Israel. We still have to survive here together, all of us. There are very deep and strong feelings of anger toward each other, but we're still in this together.'
In her own political circles, Elon has received more understanding and encouragement than disapproval. Some fellow settlers have commented that her novel portrays too much sympathy for leftist viewpoints or Palestinian distress, but Elon is not deterred by such criticism. Readers may not become automatic settler supporters, but they might look upon settlers with increased empathy.
'An extreme leftist called me and said, 'I didn't know you fall in love.' If someone learns from one of my books that people in settlements are people who also fall in love, who have questions and problems about life, people who are complex and real, this is also an achievement. That is enough for me... We're not posters or banners. We hurt, we feel, we're alive.'
For Elon, writing the novel served as a personal and professional awakening. While building her home in Beit El and working as a teacher of Judaism and literature as well as a political columnist, she didn't consider writing literature an effective, worthy or desirable endeavor for fashioning Israel according to religious-Zionist values.
'Somehow we were brought up to believe it's more important to study and write about Torah, to educate, to settle the land, to be involved in security missions in the army. Contemporary Israeli culture always took a backseat,' she explains.
Elon and her husband established a printing press in 1987, which published seven of her children's books. Her mid-40s marked a turning point. 'I felt that I reached an age in which I had to write literature. I could no longer push it off.' Currently she dedicates most of her time to teaching and working on her second novel.
The 2005 disengagement gave an extra boost to this career switch. Since the evacuation, which continues to pain her, she has taken a break from political journalism.
'I felt that my voice couldn't be heard right now, and I didn't feel like continuing to write for a newspaper that supported [the disengagement].'
Now she views arts and culture as a legitimate, powerful and even desirable way for people of her political persuasion to influence society. 'Sometimes I think maybe [the disengagement] would not have happened if we had 'settled' as much in culture as in the land.'
SHE PUTS much of her faith in the younger generation, who are less shy about their creative pursuits. 'Among our younger generation, there is a lot of involvement in literature, film, poetry.'
Her son, for example, a filmmaker, is publishing a book of his short stories and her son-in-law is the literary editor at Makor Rishon and author of a soon-to-be- published book of poetry.
'The optimism, power and creativity of the youth are expressed in the novel in the form of the successful and loving relationship between Maya and Ariel,' she says. 'The younger generation in the settlements doesn't need the bombastic declarations we used when we were younger. They just live as proud Israeli Jews.'
Toward the end of the novel, Maya and Ariel describe their vision for an idyllic, ecological settlement. Shlomtzion and Yair see their former selves in them, and Yair remarks: 'When we were your age, we too wanted to fix the world.' To which Ariel responds: 'We don't want to fix the world,' with Maya adding softly, 'Only ourselves.'
'This is the most optimistic saying of the book,' says Elon. 'That the future of Israel would look better because of the natural attitude of the youngsters who don't feel like they have to prove anything to anyone. They just want to live life because they want to live life. This is the real way of fixing the world, and eventually, of everyone fixing him or herself.'
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Rita, Israel’s reigning diva
The Jewish Journal; May 31, 2007
Click here for original
Only Rita could have pulled it off. Her famous "One" concert was the first time any Israeli recording artist has attempted such an extravagant, multimedia performance. With its crew of 50 tumbling dancers, grandiose costumes, pyrotechnics and video art, the $5 million production looked like it came right off the Las Vegas Strip.
Rita Last summer's show at the Tel Aviv Exhibition Center, which took its inspiration from Céline Dion's year-round Caesar's Palace concert, "A New Day," drew close to 100,000 fans over a period of one month. That's a lot of concertgoers for a country with a population of some 7 million, especially considering the concert was held during the height of the second Lebanon War.
"It was like a miracle," said Rita, who much like Madonna and Cher eschews her last name. "It was a huge success."
The concert proved that after 25 years on the stage, Rita is Israel's most beloved diva. And at 45, the daring performer shows no signs of slowing down.
This month, Rita has something more intimate planned for Angelenos. Only 500 tickets are available for her June 5 performance at the American Jewish University's (formerly the University of Judaism) Gindi Auditorium.
"My desire in bringing Rita to this location, as opposed to a larger venue which we could have easily sold, is to provide people the unique opportunity to experience an intimate evening with one of Israel's best," said Gady Levy, dean and vice president of the AJU's department of continuing education. "What I believe Rita does best is connect with her audience during a show. The close, informal setting will allow her to connect with the audience even more."
The Tehran-born singer, known for her passionate love ballads, already enjoys a built-in Los Angeles fan club. After the Islamic revolution in Iran in the late 1970s, most of her family in Iran split between Israel and Los Angeles, and she maintains close ties with her Los Angeles family, not to be confused with her Jewish fans abroad, who she also terms "family."
Born in 1962, Rita Yahan-Farouz dreamed of performing from the time she was 4, when she sang into a microphone at her uncle's engagement party, while standing on a chair.
"While singing, I remember it very clearly ... very, very, very clearly.... I knew that that's what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I felt like I was home," she said.
Her Zionist father felt it was time to pack their bags in 1970 after Rita's sister came home crying because she refused to recite a Muslim prayer at school. The singer moved to Israel with her family at age 8.
As a teenager in Israel, Rita worked her way through dance school, acting school and voice lessons. The day after performing one of her singles for the Israeli Pre-Eurovision Song Contest, the Persian beauty was mobbed on the bus by new fans.
"It was a Cinderella story," she said. "I didn't know that it became that I could never go on a bus again. I got out after two stations. The entire bus was on me, touching and asking, and I didn't know what happened. It was strange, very strange, very new, very frightening."
But Rita didn't set out to be the Israeli idol she is today.
"You don't think big," she said. "You're innocent. It's not like now that everyone sees all these contests, like 'American Idol.' It's much more something that burns inside of you that you want to sing to people -- you don't think about big success, fame, nothing like that. It's much deeper."
Rita is flattered by her comparison to Canadian American legend Celine Dion, although when asked who her American idols are, she answers with little hesitation: "Beyonce. I don't know whether to kiss or hit her because she's amazing. She's really something. She sings, she dances. I like very much the last record of Christian Aguilera."
She counts Kate Bush and Barbra Streisand among her earlier influences for their multifaceted talents.
Of Dion she said, "I think [she] has a great voice -- a great, great voice -- but I never sat and cried when I heard her." Nevertheless, it's hard to deny the similarities.
As a thespian, Rita has starred in Israel's stage musicals of "My Fair Lady" and "Chicago." Despite the occasional provocative, sexy dress, Rita, a mother of two (Meshi, 15, and Noam, 6) radiates a pure, "put together" image.
Rita married her teenage sweetheart, singer-songwriter Rami Kleinstein, who has written, arranged and produced many of her albums and who has performed at American Jewish University in the past. Their musical marriage is one of the most celebrated and enduring in Israel.
Rita's attempt to break into the international market was cut short, in part, by her commitment to her family. She became pregnant with her second daughter while on tour in Europe promoting her English album, "A Time for Peace," which sold just 20,000 copies.
"I think this is a very important decision to make," she said. "I decided that I didn't want to be famous and miserable when I come home alone. That's why I had to decide that my main career will be in one place, so I could build a family with children and a husband."
Click here for original
Only Rita could have pulled it off. Her famous "One" concert was the first time any Israeli recording artist has attempted such an extravagant, multimedia performance. With its crew of 50 tumbling dancers, grandiose costumes, pyrotechnics and video art, the $5 million production looked like it came right off the Las Vegas Strip.
Rita Last summer's show at the Tel Aviv Exhibition Center, which took its inspiration from Céline Dion's year-round Caesar's Palace concert, "A New Day," drew close to 100,000 fans over a period of one month. That's a lot of concertgoers for a country with a population of some 7 million, especially considering the concert was held during the height of the second Lebanon War.
"It was like a miracle," said Rita, who much like Madonna and Cher eschews her last name. "It was a huge success."
The concert proved that after 25 years on the stage, Rita is Israel's most beloved diva. And at 45, the daring performer shows no signs of slowing down.
This month, Rita has something more intimate planned for Angelenos. Only 500 tickets are available for her June 5 performance at the American Jewish University's (formerly the University of Judaism) Gindi Auditorium.
"My desire in bringing Rita to this location, as opposed to a larger venue which we could have easily sold, is to provide people the unique opportunity to experience an intimate evening with one of Israel's best," said Gady Levy, dean and vice president of the AJU's department of continuing education. "What I believe Rita does best is connect with her audience during a show. The close, informal setting will allow her to connect with the audience even more."
The Tehran-born singer, known for her passionate love ballads, already enjoys a built-in Los Angeles fan club. After the Islamic revolution in Iran in the late 1970s, most of her family in Iran split between Israel and Los Angeles, and she maintains close ties with her Los Angeles family, not to be confused with her Jewish fans abroad, who she also terms "family."
Born in 1962, Rita Yahan-Farouz dreamed of performing from the time she was 4, when she sang into a microphone at her uncle's engagement party, while standing on a chair.
"While singing, I remember it very clearly ... very, very, very clearly.... I knew that that's what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I felt like I was home," she said.
Her Zionist father felt it was time to pack their bags in 1970 after Rita's sister came home crying because she refused to recite a Muslim prayer at school. The singer moved to Israel with her family at age 8.
As a teenager in Israel, Rita worked her way through dance school, acting school and voice lessons. The day after performing one of her singles for the Israeli Pre-Eurovision Song Contest, the Persian beauty was mobbed on the bus by new fans.
"It was a Cinderella story," she said. "I didn't know that it became that I could never go on a bus again. I got out after two stations. The entire bus was on me, touching and asking, and I didn't know what happened. It was strange, very strange, very new, very frightening."
But Rita didn't set out to be the Israeli idol she is today.
"You don't think big," she said. "You're innocent. It's not like now that everyone sees all these contests, like 'American Idol.' It's much more something that burns inside of you that you want to sing to people -- you don't think about big success, fame, nothing like that. It's much deeper."
Rita is flattered by her comparison to Canadian American legend Celine Dion, although when asked who her American idols are, she answers with little hesitation: "Beyonce. I don't know whether to kiss or hit her because she's amazing. She's really something. She sings, she dances. I like very much the last record of Christian Aguilera."
She counts Kate Bush and Barbra Streisand among her earlier influences for their multifaceted talents.
Of Dion she said, "I think [she] has a great voice -- a great, great voice -- but I never sat and cried when I heard her." Nevertheless, it's hard to deny the similarities.
As a thespian, Rita has starred in Israel's stage musicals of "My Fair Lady" and "Chicago." Despite the occasional provocative, sexy dress, Rita, a mother of two (Meshi, 15, and Noam, 6) radiates a pure, "put together" image.
Rita married her teenage sweetheart, singer-songwriter Rami Kleinstein, who has written, arranged and produced many of her albums and who has performed at American Jewish University in the past. Their musical marriage is one of the most celebrated and enduring in Israel.
Rita's attempt to break into the international market was cut short, in part, by her commitment to her family. She became pregnant with her second daughter while on tour in Europe promoting her English album, "A Time for Peace," which sold just 20,000 copies.
"I think this is a very important decision to make," she said. "I decided that I didn't want to be famous and miserable when I come home alone. That's why I had to decide that my main career will be in one place, so I could build a family with children and a husband."
Thursday, May 24, 2007
The test for Tike (restaurant review)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; May 24, 2007
Tike, the second Israel branch of an international Turkish chain, is attempting to bring blessing to a high- rent, high-profile locale on Ibn Gvirol. Will it succeed?
When I used to live near Kikar Rabin, I'd pass by Ibn Gvirol between David Hamelekh and Bloch streets almost daily and witness the slow rise and quick fall of any restaurant that dared to open on the same block as the ever-popular, ever-packed Brasserie. Any restaurant which opens up in what is jokingly referred to as the "cursed spot" always runs the risk of constantly being mentioned in the same sentence as its dominating neighbor.
First there was soccer-legend Itzik Zohar's "Oliver K" bistro, which was DOA (Dead On Arrival), lasting only about six months. Then there was the valorous attempt of the seafood restaurant, Frank Fish. It stood empty for much of its year-long career, while Brasserie continued to boast a waiting list at any given hour.
Now Tike (pronounced tea-keh), the second Israel branch of this international Turkish chain, is attempting to bring blessing to this high-rent, high-profile locale. Recently, many restaurants have branches on or branched off from Ibn Gvirol: the Eastern fusion Minna Tomei, the seafood giant Goocha and the nightlife hotspot Silon are just some examples.
Tike, however, is following its own lead.
It has already made its mark in the Fertile Crescent as a gourmet Turkish restaurant offering the best and finest of Turkish cuisine in a modern, Westernized setting. Its 11 branches in Turkey and one in Greece generally serve businesspeople and high society. This made the Herzliya business district the natural location for its first Israel branch, introduced into the country last year.
Tike's Tel Aviv design is definitely inviting. It blends Turkish motifs with New York style and clean lines. The restaurant is split into small enclaves, smoking and non-smoking, which lend themselves to privacy among the diners. Watch the Turkish pitot come out in a hearth in the center of the restaurant.
That Tike offers a new concept for Tel Avivians already gives it an edge over its failed predecessors. The appetizers, presented artistically and professionally, perfectly demonstrate Tike's culinary objective: to concoct authentic Turkish dishes using the finest raw materials.
We started off with the flavorful Lahmacun (NIS 18), a thin pastry topped with tomatoes and herbed lamb, which already hinted at the high standards of preparation of Tike's Turkish chefs.
The creativity and attention to detail was evident in the two stuffed appetizers, Yaprak Dolmasi (stuffed grape leaves) and Cig Kofta ("kibbeh," or stuffed bulgar). The ground lamb of both dishes delicately absorbed the unexpected spices, among them cinnamon, pine nuts and red currants. The Mutebbel (NIS 20), a grilled eggplant dish, is poised to be a favorite among eggplant and yogurt lovers.
The main dishes that arrived at our table, however, didn't live up to the expectations set up by the appetizers. The lamb kebab of the flagship dish, Adane Kebop, was a little on the dry side, and I could not pinpoint any specific feature or flavor that would distinguish it from other kebabs I've tried. The side serving of rice was plain and small, making me wonder if the dish justified its price of NIS 69. The Iskender Kebap, with its leaf cut of "doner" meat, looked promising, but the sauce tasted a bit like tomato paste. Hidden under the thin slivers of meat were bread crumbs, which didn't add much to the dish and actually detracted from its generosity.
Any misgivings about the main dishes, however, were immediately rectified when we took a bit of the mouth-watering helva, a mound of sweet-flavored semolina and cheese over a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Talk about a Turkish delight! The Kunefe was excellent as well.
Spirits are the specialty of the manager and co-owner, Dudi Zats, a former bar manager, and he does an excellent job adapting the popular Turkish anise liquor to create cocktails that blend the old with the new. The Southern Sabres, a blend of South Comfort and the Israeli sabra, and the Kosmo Raki, a Turkish take on the Cosmopolitan, were both superb. By virtue of the cocktails, Tike's bar has the potential to become the center of the restaurant during prime nightlife hours.
The menus of the two Israeli branches are exactly the same, so one test for Tel Aviv's Tike will be location, location, location. Given the prestige of Brasserie among the Tel Aviv branja (in crowd), it's likely that young, stylish locals who dine to see and be seen may yet prefer to spend their money on Tike's neighbor. Those looking for a unique, quieter and more specialized dining experience may opt for this Turkish delight.
Tike could very well be the restaurant to exorcize the Bloch/ Hamelekh curse. If it can't, didn't any one ever think of trying something totally new there - like a clothing store, perhaps?
Tike, Rehov Ibn Gvirol 74, 12 noon to 2 a.m., (03) 696-5315. Not kosher.
Tike, the second Israel branch of an international Turkish chain, is attempting to bring blessing to a high- rent, high-profile locale on Ibn Gvirol. Will it succeed?
When I used to live near Kikar Rabin, I'd pass by Ibn Gvirol between David Hamelekh and Bloch streets almost daily and witness the slow rise and quick fall of any restaurant that dared to open on the same block as the ever-popular, ever-packed Brasserie. Any restaurant which opens up in what is jokingly referred to as the "cursed spot" always runs the risk of constantly being mentioned in the same sentence as its dominating neighbor.
First there was soccer-legend Itzik Zohar's "Oliver K" bistro, which was DOA (Dead On Arrival), lasting only about six months. Then there was the valorous attempt of the seafood restaurant, Frank Fish. It stood empty for much of its year-long career, while Brasserie continued to boast a waiting list at any given hour.
Now Tike (pronounced tea-keh), the second Israel branch of this international Turkish chain, is attempting to bring blessing to this high-rent, high-profile locale. Recently, many restaurants have branches on or branched off from Ibn Gvirol: the Eastern fusion Minna Tomei, the seafood giant Goocha and the nightlife hotspot Silon are just some examples.
Tike, however, is following its own lead.
It has already made its mark in the Fertile Crescent as a gourmet Turkish restaurant offering the best and finest of Turkish cuisine in a modern, Westernized setting. Its 11 branches in Turkey and one in Greece generally serve businesspeople and high society. This made the Herzliya business district the natural location for its first Israel branch, introduced into the country last year.
Tike's Tel Aviv design is definitely inviting. It blends Turkish motifs with New York style and clean lines. The restaurant is split into small enclaves, smoking and non-smoking, which lend themselves to privacy among the diners. Watch the Turkish pitot come out in a hearth in the center of the restaurant.
That Tike offers a new concept for Tel Avivians already gives it an edge over its failed predecessors. The appetizers, presented artistically and professionally, perfectly demonstrate Tike's culinary objective: to concoct authentic Turkish dishes using the finest raw materials.
We started off with the flavorful Lahmacun (NIS 18), a thin pastry topped with tomatoes and herbed lamb, which already hinted at the high standards of preparation of Tike's Turkish chefs.
The creativity and attention to detail was evident in the two stuffed appetizers, Yaprak Dolmasi (stuffed grape leaves) and Cig Kofta ("kibbeh," or stuffed bulgar). The ground lamb of both dishes delicately absorbed the unexpected spices, among them cinnamon, pine nuts and red currants. The Mutebbel (NIS 20), a grilled eggplant dish, is poised to be a favorite among eggplant and yogurt lovers.
The main dishes that arrived at our table, however, didn't live up to the expectations set up by the appetizers. The lamb kebab of the flagship dish, Adane Kebop, was a little on the dry side, and I could not pinpoint any specific feature or flavor that would distinguish it from other kebabs I've tried. The side serving of rice was plain and small, making me wonder if the dish justified its price of NIS 69. The Iskender Kebap, with its leaf cut of "doner" meat, looked promising, but the sauce tasted a bit like tomato paste. Hidden under the thin slivers of meat were bread crumbs, which didn't add much to the dish and actually detracted from its generosity.
Any misgivings about the main dishes, however, were immediately rectified when we took a bit of the mouth-watering helva, a mound of sweet-flavored semolina and cheese over a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Talk about a Turkish delight! The Kunefe was excellent as well.
Spirits are the specialty of the manager and co-owner, Dudi Zats, a former bar manager, and he does an excellent job adapting the popular Turkish anise liquor to create cocktails that blend the old with the new. The Southern Sabres, a blend of South Comfort and the Israeli sabra, and the Kosmo Raki, a Turkish take on the Cosmopolitan, were both superb. By virtue of the cocktails, Tike's bar has the potential to become the center of the restaurant during prime nightlife hours.
The menus of the two Israeli branches are exactly the same, so one test for Tel Aviv's Tike will be location, location, location. Given the prestige of Brasserie among the Tel Aviv branja (in crowd), it's likely that young, stylish locals who dine to see and be seen may yet prefer to spend their money on Tike's neighbor. Those looking for a unique, quieter and more specialized dining experience may opt for this Turkish delight.
Tike could very well be the restaurant to exorcize the Bloch/ Hamelekh curse. If it can't, didn't any one ever think of trying something totally new there - like a clothing store, perhaps?
Tike, Rehov Ibn Gvirol 74, 12 noon to 2 a.m., (03) 696-5315. Not kosher.
Rockets raining on Sderot take physical and mental toll on city
The Jewish Journal; May 24, 2007
Click here for original
It's a smooth car ride to Sderot.
There's very little traffic on this Sunday between Jerusalem and the battered city. Sunflower fields line the road and then the vast prairies of the Negev; it's difficult to fathom that only a few kilometers away rockets are raining.
We stop for gas and notice a blond woman heading out to the highway.
"Want a tremp [ride]?" my friend, the driver, asks.
"Where are you going?" she responds.
"Sderot," he says.
She shakes her head with an "are you crazy?" look. "I just came from there. I'm not going back."
The entrance to Sderot is crowded with policemen. A sign is posted on a car nearby; it reads, in Arabic: "F--- YOU, HAMAS."
We figure a rocket has just landed at the entrance, but it turns out the police were clearing a protest staged by Sderot residents angry at the government's apparent apathy toward their situation, which Israel Defense Minister Amir Peretz defined that day as "special." Special indeed.
A billboard advertising Shabbat candlelighting times greets us as we enter Sderot. Other billboard ads are peeling off, neglected.
Yet Sderot is not a ghost town, despite the thousands of residents who have already fled the city. People are still waiting at bus stops; the supermarket is open, though few cars are on the roads. I even notice a street cleaner. But the town looks tired. If Sderot had a theme, it would be: "What's gonna be with us?"
"There's always fear. It's always tense. You're always stepped on. What can I say, you hope for the best," says David Alon, a resident of Netivot, a town about 10 miles away. He is in Sderot because he works here every day for Hevra Kadisha, the Jewish burial society. He thinks it's only a matter of time until Netivot comes under fire, as well.
As Alon begins to talk about the 2005 disengagement from Gaza as the cause for Sderot's troubles, we hear on loudspeakers: "Red alert! Red alert!"
Alon shudders and darts away. "Get under there," he says, pointing to the corridor of a building.
"Is it safe?" I ask, noticing that we are exposed.
"It's good enough," he replies.
After only a few seconds, I hear that powerful, heart-shattering boom.
Talk about scary.
But there isn't time to be scared. We immediately get in the car and follow the ambulances to get a view of where the missile fell. People are gathered on pavements, looking out from the balconies, even though this isn't new to them. More than 100 missiles have been fired on Sderot in the past week.
We drive a little too fast, and I wonder if I should put on my seatbelt.
"It's not a good idea," says a local woman who has joined us. "We might have to run out for cover."
The ambulances can't seem to find the site, and they circle around the city, which isn't so big, for about 15 minutes, until all the press and emergency forces converge on a school, which is where the missile landed. Luckily, school was out for the day. There is only minor damage and no injuries, we are told.
Next, we visit a family on a small street with pale yellow apartment buildings. One woman looks out from her porch. A sign reads: "FOR SALE."
"Is it because of the situation?" I ask the 60-something woman, a Sderot resident of 31 years.
She says it's not, but I bet she's lying. She doesn't want to broadcast weakness: "If you're afraid, you have to leave all of Israel. We're not afraid. It's our country....We live here. We get used to it."
Across the street, Malka Tzippora, a 51-year-old single mother of four, is anything but used to the situation.
"I'm paranoid because of my children and grandchildren," she says. "When you call your children and they don't answer, you think the worst."
She apologizes for not offering me any coffee or refreshments, but her house, she says, is in disarray. She's in no mood to clean. Bags with food are on the kitchen counter, dishes are dirty, her 5-year-old grandson keeps nagging her to watch television with him, his shows -- something happy -- but she tells him to go sit down on the sofas.
"You don't have patience for your kids," she explains. "You're short with them because of the anger, pressure. You don't mean it, but it comes from fear."
Her son, who was injured fighting in Lebanon in the 1990s, is sending his family off to England to his wife's family. Moroccan-born Tzippora herself dreams of returning to France, where she lived for 10 years, before moving to Israel.
"They treated me well," she says. "The education for my children was better.
People are polite; they care for each other."
She's angry at the Israeli government for "tying the army's hands," adding: "It hurts that you fight for the country, and they throw you to the dogs." Of Israel's leaders, she says: "A man with a potbelly that always expands can't see under it."
Gabriel Attias, 42, a resident of Sderot, is handicapped from two car accidents. He couldn't help but express his anger to a group of journalists who gathered to watch the installation of a LifeShield bomb shelter (see related story on Page 14) next to a children's nursery. He aimed particular barbs at Peretz, a former mayor of Sderot. "He does nothing."
"What should he do?" someone asks.
"Go into Gaza and bomb them!" Attias responds.
Then he lashes out at the journalists: "And I'm angry at you. You don't go to the sick people at home. You just come and go where you want and look for some noise." Realizing I'm no angel, I offer to visit his wheelchair-bound, sick mother, but she was recently taken to a nursing home in Ashkelon. "When, when, when will there be quiet?" he shouts.
He wants me to tell the world: "We are suffering. Families are destroyed, children are destroyed, homes are destroyed and [Prime Minister Ehud] Olmert and Peretz don't do anything. All the money donated to the municipalities, we don't see a cent of it."
A 27-year-old onlooker is more forgiving of the government's seeming inaction, at least in regard to military activity. He doesn't think there is any quick-fix solution, and he's patient, describing his decision to stay in Sderot as a "gamble with fate."
"Gaza is the densest place in the world. You can't just do what you did in Operation Defensive Shield," he says. "You'll take a lot of IDF fatalities."
A 5-year-old girl sits on the lawn with a teddy bear outside her apartment, whose windows had been damaged not long ago by shrapnel from a missile strike across the street. She seems to be the calmest of the people I've spoken with, whether from childish naiveté or repressed uncertainty.
"When there are Qassam rockets, we hide here," she says matter-of-factly but sweetly, pointing to her ground-floor apartment. "We don't have shelters."
"Are you afraid?" I ask.
"We're afraid of the boom," she replies.
By the late afternoon, we've been here for about three hours; as we get ready to leave Sderot, we stop by a local falafel stand empty of customers. They are still functioning, but "business is terrible. People are afraid to go out. We make less of everything," reports Eliran, an 18-year-old worker there. The falafel was still good, though -- fresh.
On our way out, we notice smoke billowing in the skies. Was it a rocket? No, tires have been set aflame by local shopkeepers, one way of protesting their "special situation."
Back in Jerusalem, that boom still rings in my ears. As much as the echo of the man's booming cry: "When? When? When will there be quiet?"
Click here for original
It's a smooth car ride to Sderot.
There's very little traffic on this Sunday between Jerusalem and the battered city. Sunflower fields line the road and then the vast prairies of the Negev; it's difficult to fathom that only a few kilometers away rockets are raining.
We stop for gas and notice a blond woman heading out to the highway.
"Want a tremp [ride]?" my friend, the driver, asks.
"Where are you going?" she responds.
"Sderot," he says.
She shakes her head with an "are you crazy?" look. "I just came from there. I'm not going back."
The entrance to Sderot is crowded with policemen. A sign is posted on a car nearby; it reads, in Arabic: "F--- YOU, HAMAS."
We figure a rocket has just landed at the entrance, but it turns out the police were clearing a protest staged by Sderot residents angry at the government's apparent apathy toward their situation, which Israel Defense Minister Amir Peretz defined that day as "special." Special indeed.
A billboard advertising Shabbat candlelighting times greets us as we enter Sderot. Other billboard ads are peeling off, neglected.
Yet Sderot is not a ghost town, despite the thousands of residents who have already fled the city. People are still waiting at bus stops; the supermarket is open, though few cars are on the roads. I even notice a street cleaner. But the town looks tired. If Sderot had a theme, it would be: "What's gonna be with us?"
"There's always fear. It's always tense. You're always stepped on. What can I say, you hope for the best," says David Alon, a resident of Netivot, a town about 10 miles away. He is in Sderot because he works here every day for Hevra Kadisha, the Jewish burial society. He thinks it's only a matter of time until Netivot comes under fire, as well.
As Alon begins to talk about the 2005 disengagement from Gaza as the cause for Sderot's troubles, we hear on loudspeakers: "Red alert! Red alert!"
Alon shudders and darts away. "Get under there," he says, pointing to the corridor of a building.
"Is it safe?" I ask, noticing that we are exposed.
"It's good enough," he replies.
After only a few seconds, I hear that powerful, heart-shattering boom.
Talk about scary.
But there isn't time to be scared. We immediately get in the car and follow the ambulances to get a view of where the missile fell. People are gathered on pavements, looking out from the balconies, even though this isn't new to them. More than 100 missiles have been fired on Sderot in the past week.
We drive a little too fast, and I wonder if I should put on my seatbelt.
"It's not a good idea," says a local woman who has joined us. "We might have to run out for cover."
The ambulances can't seem to find the site, and they circle around the city, which isn't so big, for about 15 minutes, until all the press and emergency forces converge on a school, which is where the missile landed. Luckily, school was out for the day. There is only minor damage and no injuries, we are told.
Next, we visit a family on a small street with pale yellow apartment buildings. One woman looks out from her porch. A sign reads: "FOR SALE."
"Is it because of the situation?" I ask the 60-something woman, a Sderot resident of 31 years.
She says it's not, but I bet she's lying. She doesn't want to broadcast weakness: "If you're afraid, you have to leave all of Israel. We're not afraid. It's our country....We live here. We get used to it."
Across the street, Malka Tzippora, a 51-year-old single mother of four, is anything but used to the situation.
"I'm paranoid because of my children and grandchildren," she says. "When you call your children and they don't answer, you think the worst."
She apologizes for not offering me any coffee or refreshments, but her house, she says, is in disarray. She's in no mood to clean. Bags with food are on the kitchen counter, dishes are dirty, her 5-year-old grandson keeps nagging her to watch television with him, his shows -- something happy -- but she tells him to go sit down on the sofas.
"You don't have patience for your kids," she explains. "You're short with them because of the anger, pressure. You don't mean it, but it comes from fear."
Her son, who was injured fighting in Lebanon in the 1990s, is sending his family off to England to his wife's family. Moroccan-born Tzippora herself dreams of returning to France, where she lived for 10 years, before moving to Israel.
"They treated me well," she says. "The education for my children was better.
People are polite; they care for each other."
She's angry at the Israeli government for "tying the army's hands," adding: "It hurts that you fight for the country, and they throw you to the dogs." Of Israel's leaders, she says: "A man with a potbelly that always expands can't see under it."
Gabriel Attias, 42, a resident of Sderot, is handicapped from two car accidents. He couldn't help but express his anger to a group of journalists who gathered to watch the installation of a LifeShield bomb shelter (see related story on Page 14) next to a children's nursery. He aimed particular barbs at Peretz, a former mayor of Sderot. "He does nothing."
"What should he do?" someone asks.
"Go into Gaza and bomb them!" Attias responds.
Then he lashes out at the journalists: "And I'm angry at you. You don't go to the sick people at home. You just come and go where you want and look for some noise." Realizing I'm no angel, I offer to visit his wheelchair-bound, sick mother, but she was recently taken to a nursing home in Ashkelon. "When, when, when will there be quiet?" he shouts.
He wants me to tell the world: "We are suffering. Families are destroyed, children are destroyed, homes are destroyed and [Prime Minister Ehud] Olmert and Peretz don't do anything. All the money donated to the municipalities, we don't see a cent of it."
A 27-year-old onlooker is more forgiving of the government's seeming inaction, at least in regard to military activity. He doesn't think there is any quick-fix solution, and he's patient, describing his decision to stay in Sderot as a "gamble with fate."
"Gaza is the densest place in the world. You can't just do what you did in Operation Defensive Shield," he says. "You'll take a lot of IDF fatalities."
A 5-year-old girl sits on the lawn with a teddy bear outside her apartment, whose windows had been damaged not long ago by shrapnel from a missile strike across the street. She seems to be the calmest of the people I've spoken with, whether from childish naiveté or repressed uncertainty.
"When there are Qassam rockets, we hide here," she says matter-of-factly but sweetly, pointing to her ground-floor apartment. "We don't have shelters."
"Are you afraid?" I ask.
"We're afraid of the boom," she replies.
By the late afternoon, we've been here for about three hours; as we get ready to leave Sderot, we stop by a local falafel stand empty of customers. They are still functioning, but "business is terrible. People are afraid to go out. We make less of everything," reports Eliran, an 18-year-old worker there. The falafel was still good, though -- fresh.
On our way out, we notice smoke billowing in the skies. Was it a rocket? No, tires have been set aflame by local shopkeepers, one way of protesting their "special situation."
Back in Jerusalem, that boom still rings in my ears. As much as the echo of the man's booming cry: "When? When? When will there be quiet?"
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Israeli 'Idol' worshipers
Jerusalem Post, Daily; May 22, 2007
Tonight Blake and Jordin will fight for the 'American Idol' singing crown. But the show's many Israeli fans will have to wait to see the results
As millions of Americans sit on the edge of their sofas tonight to find out whether Jordin Sparks or Blake Lewis will be crowned the next 'American Idol,' many Israelis will have to hold off a few more days.
This year, for the first time in the show's six year run, American Idol was bought for prime time Israeli television. The finale will be broadcast on Channel 3, commercial free and with subtitles, on Friday night, and repeated on Saturday night so Idol-loving Shabbat observers need not feel left out.
'The show receives very high ratings on both screenings,' said Hila Shafir, spokesperson for HOT. Channel 3 is also carried by YES, Israel's satellite network. 'American Idol is extremely popular around the world, and also in Israel, so we wanted to bring the program to the Israeli people.'
But for some Israelis, it took too long for Israel's cable networks to get with the program, so to speak, and they began to watch it on Star World, an Asian channel, carried this year only by HOT. Star World has hosted the show since season three (Fantasia Barrino's year) and broadcasts it with a day's delay.
Hanna Kaypuya, the founder of the American Idol internet forum on Tapuz, a popular Israeli internet portal, first discovered the show on Star World and has been hooked ever since. She started the forum 'because there wasn't anyone in Israel to talk about it with.' Kaypuya has noticed a hike in interest in the forum this year, and some 200 registered members now share predictions, compare favorites and post links
Anat Tamir, 28, a human resource professional who lives in Tel Aviv, had been a lone fan of the show for three years, but now she regularly discusses the outcomes with friends. 'I feel less special now. I liked to be the only one who watched it.'
If the Tapuz forum can be a fair touchstone of Israeli taste, then Melinda Doolittle was the clear Israeli favorite. 'The final three were all favorites in the forum,' Kaypuya says, adding that they also liked the quirky Sanjaya Malakar, who is now a household name for his widely-publicized, unexpected staying power, and his unusual hairdos.
Of Doolittle's elimination, Kaypuya says that 'most people were shocked and upset. Surprisingly, some were shocked yet satisfied. One person blamed Simon [Cowell], because Simon said he wanted Melinda in the finale, and America loves to annoy Simon - look what they did with Sanjaya.' The beloved Malakar was panned for his lack of singing ability by Cowell, but fans kept him on the show for weeks on end.
IN ADDITION to Web forums, Erev Tov with Guy Pines, Israel's leading television entertainment show, sums up Idol events every week, contributing to the show's popularity. Israel Zohar, a senior correspondent for Pines, attributes the popularity of American Idol in Israel in part to Israelis' love for singing competitions.
'[American Idol] is good television. From the auditions, which are funnily edited, through the elimination stages through the finals. The songs are good, and of course, there's Simon Cowell, one of the funniest and most sarcastic guys around. Every time I cover the show, I use at least one of his quotes.'
Israel's version of American Idol, 'Kochav Nolad,' ('A Star is Born'), kicked off its fifth season this past Friday. Like American Idol, the show is a leading platform for breakthrough stars, like Ninet Tayeb, Shiri Maimon, and Harel Skaat, who all enjoy prolific careers in entertainment thanks to the program.
Kaypuya prefers American Idol over Kochav Nolad for its professionalism; its emphasis on voice quality rather than looks; and Simon, whose bluntness is unmatched among the Kochav Nolad judges.
Tamir agrees. '[Kochav Nolad] messes with your mind. They think it's not nice to eliminate people, so they bring them back. Beside I like Simon. He's amazing.'
DeDe Komisar, a grant writer and stage actress who made aliya to Jerusalem in September, actually discovered the show in Israel, not in America. She felt 'peer pressure' to watch it while rehearsing for a play in Jerusalem. Her fellow cast members, all American, kept talking about the show during rehearsals.
'I guess in the US there's so much other stuff on TV, and I had an aversion to mainstream, American pop stuff. I was only into indie stuff, but here it was - a way to connect to America, and American Idol is beyond huge.'
Komisar doesn't define herself as 'obsessed,' but admits that she has visited American Idol blogs and particularly likes the 'Vote for the Worst' website. For Passover her parents gave her, as an afikoman gift, the DVD of the 'Best and Worst of American Idol.'
But now that Melinda, her favorite, has been voted off, the show has lost its enchantment. 'I'm so pissed that Melinda got sent home! She could mop the floor with the other two! I'm disillusioned with the show and it's lost the magic for me at this point.'
Tonight Blake and Jordin will fight for the 'American Idol' singing crown. But the show's many Israeli fans will have to wait to see the results
As millions of Americans sit on the edge of their sofas tonight to find out whether Jordin Sparks or Blake Lewis will be crowned the next 'American Idol,' many Israelis will have to hold off a few more days.
This year, for the first time in the show's six year run, American Idol was bought for prime time Israeli television. The finale will be broadcast on Channel 3, commercial free and with subtitles, on Friday night, and repeated on Saturday night so Idol-loving Shabbat observers need not feel left out.
'The show receives very high ratings on both screenings,' said Hila Shafir, spokesperson for HOT. Channel 3 is also carried by YES, Israel's satellite network. 'American Idol is extremely popular around the world, and also in Israel, so we wanted to bring the program to the Israeli people.'
But for some Israelis, it took too long for Israel's cable networks to get with the program, so to speak, and they began to watch it on Star World, an Asian channel, carried this year only by HOT. Star World has hosted the show since season three (Fantasia Barrino's year) and broadcasts it with a day's delay.
Hanna Kaypuya, the founder of the American Idol internet forum on Tapuz, a popular Israeli internet portal, first discovered the show on Star World and has been hooked ever since. She started the forum 'because there wasn't anyone in Israel to talk about it with.' Kaypuya has noticed a hike in interest in the forum this year, and some 200 registered members now share predictions, compare favorites and post links
Anat Tamir, 28, a human resource professional who lives in Tel Aviv, had been a lone fan of the show for three years, but now she regularly discusses the outcomes with friends. 'I feel less special now. I liked to be the only one who watched it.'
If the Tapuz forum can be a fair touchstone of Israeli taste, then Melinda Doolittle was the clear Israeli favorite. 'The final three were all favorites in the forum,' Kaypuya says, adding that they also liked the quirky Sanjaya Malakar, who is now a household name for his widely-publicized, unexpected staying power, and his unusual hairdos.
Of Doolittle's elimination, Kaypuya says that 'most people were shocked and upset. Surprisingly, some were shocked yet satisfied. One person blamed Simon [Cowell], because Simon said he wanted Melinda in the finale, and America loves to annoy Simon - look what they did with Sanjaya.' The beloved Malakar was panned for his lack of singing ability by Cowell, but fans kept him on the show for weeks on end.
IN ADDITION to Web forums, Erev Tov with Guy Pines, Israel's leading television entertainment show, sums up Idol events every week, contributing to the show's popularity. Israel Zohar, a senior correspondent for Pines, attributes the popularity of American Idol in Israel in part to Israelis' love for singing competitions.
'[American Idol] is good television. From the auditions, which are funnily edited, through the elimination stages through the finals. The songs are good, and of course, there's Simon Cowell, one of the funniest and most sarcastic guys around. Every time I cover the show, I use at least one of his quotes.'
Israel's version of American Idol, 'Kochav Nolad,' ('A Star is Born'), kicked off its fifth season this past Friday. Like American Idol, the show is a leading platform for breakthrough stars, like Ninet Tayeb, Shiri Maimon, and Harel Skaat, who all enjoy prolific careers in entertainment thanks to the program.
Kaypuya prefers American Idol over Kochav Nolad for its professionalism; its emphasis on voice quality rather than looks; and Simon, whose bluntness is unmatched among the Kochav Nolad judges.
Tamir agrees. '[Kochav Nolad] messes with your mind. They think it's not nice to eliminate people, so they bring them back. Beside I like Simon. He's amazing.'
DeDe Komisar, a grant writer and stage actress who made aliya to Jerusalem in September, actually discovered the show in Israel, not in America. She felt 'peer pressure' to watch it while rehearsing for a play in Jerusalem. Her fellow cast members, all American, kept talking about the show during rehearsals.
'I guess in the US there's so much other stuff on TV, and I had an aversion to mainstream, American pop stuff. I was only into indie stuff, but here it was - a way to connect to America, and American Idol is beyond huge.'
Komisar doesn't define herself as 'obsessed,' but admits that she has visited American Idol blogs and particularly likes the 'Vote for the Worst' website. For Passover her parents gave her, as an afikoman gift, the DVD of the 'Best and Worst of American Idol.'
But now that Melinda, her favorite, has been voted off, the show has lost its enchantment. 'I'm so pissed that Melinda got sent home! She could mop the floor with the other two! I'm disillusioned with the show and it's lost the magic for me at this point.'
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Greener pasteurs
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; May 17, 2007
Owned by some of Israel's most interesting personalities, goat and sheep farms are becoming increasingly diverse.
The people of Israel have a long history as shepherds. Many of our forefathers, among them Abraham, Moses and David were herders and the nurturing qualities needed for their profession stood them in good stead for leading the burgeoning Jewish nation.
Modern Israelis have continued in their footsteps. But as Israel becomes increasingly sophisticated gastronomically, consumers are favoring goats' and sheep's cheese over cows' milk produce. Unlike their bovine counterparts, most goats and sheep are free to roam and graze; antibiotics aren't - usually - a part of their diet; their cheese and milk contains lower lactose content, and their taste is unmistakably distinct.
As consumers have become more enthused, cheese makers have become more creative, and many new goat farms have opened around the country while others have considerably increased their range.
Shavuot is now on our doorstep and as Israelis prepare to mark the holiday with the traditional dairy foods, an unconventional and patriotic way to celebrate the holiday could be to visit farms and their boutique delicatessens for an authentic dairy experience grounded in the land of milk and honey.
The following is a partial list of select dairy farms in Israel for whom cheese making is its own Torah.
Eretz Zavat Halav U'Dvash, Moshav Nehalim
A favorite among locals and tourists, Eretz Zavat Halav U'Dvash is in Moshav Nehalim near Petah Tikva, about 15 minutes away from the airport. Ahhh... what a great place to land for brunch after a long flight, or on any morning for that matter. A colorful, lush garden adorned with a fish pond opens to an outdoor patio with sheep grazing nearby.
At his cafe, Aharon Markovich, who grew up on the religious-Zionist moshav, explained his decision to raise sheep rather than the more prevalent goats. 'Sheep milk doesn't have the heavy aroma of goat cheese. Cow's milk is flavorless,' says Markovich, quick to bring out a container of fresh sheep's milk to drink.
The taste and texture of the milk was indeed sweet and creamy, and the personable Markovich abides by the adage that rarer is better. Sheep produce about half the amount of milk that goats produce, and the results truly are exquisite.
The Markovich dairy produces 40 different kinds of cheeses: fresh, semi-hard, hard, and ripened, but Markovich gets annoyed when people ask him to categorize his cheeses according to well-known kinds, such as Camembert, Tomme or feta. While he has mostly taught himself traditional techniques, he refuses to bow to European customs, instead seeking to forge his own.
'I wanted to create an Israeli brand of cheese,' he said, hence the name of the dairy, which means 'land flowing with milk and honey.'
Markovich makes original cheeses using unorthodox ingredients: wine, fig leaves, rosemary, bay leaves, to name just a few, and of course, 'lots of love and soul.' At the morning buffet brunch he serves flavored cheese balls, breads, Greek salad, roasted peppers, marinated eggplant and spicy carrots, but the highlight is the opportunity to create a cheese platter from among the dozens of cheeses sold at the deli.
Given its city-edge locale, Eretz Zavat Halav U'Dvash is among the most urban-tinged dairies. Nevertheless, the atmosphere is quaint and relaxing, with Israeli background music mixing with bird chirping. To preserve the quiet, Friday brunch is closed to children under 12, to the dismay of some parents and the relief of others.
For the perfect dairy dessert, stop by next door at Neta's chocolate shop where gracious Neta offers samples of her handmade, uniquely flavored pralines.
Brunch: 9 a.m. to 2 p.m.; Deli: 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. (closed Shabbat and holidays). Kosher certificate. Tel: (03) 033-2979. www.2eat.co.il/eretz.
Zook Farm
Located near the Ela Valley not far from Beit Shemesh, the Zook Farm offers a taste of rustic Israel. Reaching the farm is an experience in and of itself. A kilometer long road leads to the picturesque, delightfully landscaped outdoor seating areas adorned with roses and vines. At the Zook Farm cafe (opened to the public on weekends), cheeses and homemade delicacies are served on red-and-white checkered picnic tablecloths that overlook the barns and bushy hills.
The Zook brothers, Yiftach and Tomer, moshav boys, are now at the helm of a fraternal food dynasty. Their other brother, culinary star Nir Zook, is the namesake of the famous Zook Compound in Jaffa, home to the exclusive Cordelia restaurant. The Zook Compound is the only venue aside from the Zook Farm where Zook cheeses are sold to the public.
A delightful brunch is NIS 100 per person; pricey, but it includes homemade wine and high-grade cheeses made from whole goat's milk: delicate Tzfatit, aged Roquefort and earthy Tomme cheese. Cheeses come with an array of dips and appetizers, including labane, feta cheese spread, eggplant in cream, artichokes, roasted peppers, fennel, ful, humous and tehina. Gingerbread and coffee cookies top it off.
Tel: 054-523-9117/8; Open Fri., Sat., and holidays: 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.; http:// www.mitchatnim.co.il/mem/havat_tzuk/
Goat Path
A new addition to the goat farm landscape of Israel, Goat Path in Tal Shahar was founded about a year ago by the Saban and Einy families, who make a large variety of whole milk goat's cheeses: Gouda, cheddar, Emmental, labane, yogurts and yogurt drinks. A lovely country cafe set up in a wooden cabin opens on weekends. Visitors are welcome to visit the large goat pens and tour the attraction-rich area.
Fri. and holiday eves: 9 a.m. to 2 p.m; Sat. and holidays: 9 a.m.-6 p.m; Sun. to Thurs. (limited menu): 8 a.m. to 3 p.m.; Tel: 052-258-9900; (08) 949-5964.
Kornmehl Farm
Located in the northern Negev, overlooking ancient farm ruins, the Kornmehl Farm was founded in 1997 by husband-and-wife team Anat and Daniel Kornmehl, both graduates of the Agricultural Science department at the Hebrew University. Daniel studied cheesemaking in both France and Israel, and the farm employs the French cheesemaking tradition while preserving the unique flavors of the Israeli desert, where the goats graze.
Cheese varieties include their version of Tomme, Camembert and Brie. Visitors are welcome to watch the afternoon milking at 4:30 and learn about the cheese-making process. Kornmehl cheeses are now sold in gourmet food shops in the center of the country (try Buy the Way in Tzomet Ra'anana).
Cheeses sold daily 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Tel: (08) 655-5140, 052-278-8051.
Jerusalem hills
A fixture in the Israel cheesemaking community with his long, white beard, Shai Seltzer is certainly a candidate for the godfather of modern Israeli goat-cheese making. This Israeli veteran and award-winning cheesemaker has been raising goats for the past 32 years. Following ancient tradition, the gourmet cheeses are aged in a dark cave, and they are sold only on-site at his base in the Sataf nature reserve, only on weekends, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tel: (02) 533-3748.
www.goat-cheese.co.il/
If you're in this region, you can also pop into the Har Haruah goats' cheese farm, just behind Abu Ghosh. Despite the fact that they no longer have a restaurant, Dalia and Haim Himelfarb now package their 'pundak' in a picnic basket filled with a platter of cheeses, salad, olives, bread, and pita. Tel: (02) 534-5660. Thurs: 7 p.m, to 12 midnight; Fri. and holiday eves: 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.; Sat. and holidays: 10 a.m. to 7 p.m.; or by appointment. www.harharuach.com
Owned by some of Israel's most interesting personalities, goat and sheep farms are becoming increasingly diverse.
The people of Israel have a long history as shepherds. Many of our forefathers, among them Abraham, Moses and David were herders and the nurturing qualities needed for their profession stood them in good stead for leading the burgeoning Jewish nation.
Modern Israelis have continued in their footsteps. But as Israel becomes increasingly sophisticated gastronomically, consumers are favoring goats' and sheep's cheese over cows' milk produce. Unlike their bovine counterparts, most goats and sheep are free to roam and graze; antibiotics aren't - usually - a part of their diet; their cheese and milk contains lower lactose content, and their taste is unmistakably distinct.
As consumers have become more enthused, cheese makers have become more creative, and many new goat farms have opened around the country while others have considerably increased their range.
Shavuot is now on our doorstep and as Israelis prepare to mark the holiday with the traditional dairy foods, an unconventional and patriotic way to celebrate the holiday could be to visit farms and their boutique delicatessens for an authentic dairy experience grounded in the land of milk and honey.
The following is a partial list of select dairy farms in Israel for whom cheese making is its own Torah.
Eretz Zavat Halav U'Dvash, Moshav Nehalim
A favorite among locals and tourists, Eretz Zavat Halav U'Dvash is in Moshav Nehalim near Petah Tikva, about 15 minutes away from the airport. Ahhh... what a great place to land for brunch after a long flight, or on any morning for that matter. A colorful, lush garden adorned with a fish pond opens to an outdoor patio with sheep grazing nearby.
At his cafe, Aharon Markovich, who grew up on the religious-Zionist moshav, explained his decision to raise sheep rather than the more prevalent goats. 'Sheep milk doesn't have the heavy aroma of goat cheese. Cow's milk is flavorless,' says Markovich, quick to bring out a container of fresh sheep's milk to drink.
The taste and texture of the milk was indeed sweet and creamy, and the personable Markovich abides by the adage that rarer is better. Sheep produce about half the amount of milk that goats produce, and the results truly are exquisite.
The Markovich dairy produces 40 different kinds of cheeses: fresh, semi-hard, hard, and ripened, but Markovich gets annoyed when people ask him to categorize his cheeses according to well-known kinds, such as Camembert, Tomme or feta. While he has mostly taught himself traditional techniques, he refuses to bow to European customs, instead seeking to forge his own.
'I wanted to create an Israeli brand of cheese,' he said, hence the name of the dairy, which means 'land flowing with milk and honey.'
Markovich makes original cheeses using unorthodox ingredients: wine, fig leaves, rosemary, bay leaves, to name just a few, and of course, 'lots of love and soul.' At the morning buffet brunch he serves flavored cheese balls, breads, Greek salad, roasted peppers, marinated eggplant and spicy carrots, but the highlight is the opportunity to create a cheese platter from among the dozens of cheeses sold at the deli.
Given its city-edge locale, Eretz Zavat Halav U'Dvash is among the most urban-tinged dairies. Nevertheless, the atmosphere is quaint and relaxing, with Israeli background music mixing with bird chirping. To preserve the quiet, Friday brunch is closed to children under 12, to the dismay of some parents and the relief of others.
For the perfect dairy dessert, stop by next door at Neta's chocolate shop where gracious Neta offers samples of her handmade, uniquely flavored pralines.
Brunch: 9 a.m. to 2 p.m.; Deli: 9 a.m. to 7 p.m. (closed Shabbat and holidays). Kosher certificate. Tel: (03) 033-2979. www.2eat.co.il/eretz.
Zook Farm
Located near the Ela Valley not far from Beit Shemesh, the Zook Farm offers a taste of rustic Israel. Reaching the farm is an experience in and of itself. A kilometer long road leads to the picturesque, delightfully landscaped outdoor seating areas adorned with roses and vines. At the Zook Farm cafe (opened to the public on weekends), cheeses and homemade delicacies are served on red-and-white checkered picnic tablecloths that overlook the barns and bushy hills.
The Zook brothers, Yiftach and Tomer, moshav boys, are now at the helm of a fraternal food dynasty. Their other brother, culinary star Nir Zook, is the namesake of the famous Zook Compound in Jaffa, home to the exclusive Cordelia restaurant. The Zook Compound is the only venue aside from the Zook Farm where Zook cheeses are sold to the public.
A delightful brunch is NIS 100 per person; pricey, but it includes homemade wine and high-grade cheeses made from whole goat's milk: delicate Tzfatit, aged Roquefort and earthy Tomme cheese. Cheeses come with an array of dips and appetizers, including labane, feta cheese spread, eggplant in cream, artichokes, roasted peppers, fennel, ful, humous and tehina. Gingerbread and coffee cookies top it off.
Tel: 054-523-9117/8; Open Fri., Sat., and holidays: 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.; http:// www.mitchatnim.co.il/mem/havat_tzuk/
Goat Path
A new addition to the goat farm landscape of Israel, Goat Path in Tal Shahar was founded about a year ago by the Saban and Einy families, who make a large variety of whole milk goat's cheeses: Gouda, cheddar, Emmental, labane, yogurts and yogurt drinks. A lovely country cafe set up in a wooden cabin opens on weekends. Visitors are welcome to visit the large goat pens and tour the attraction-rich area.
Fri. and holiday eves: 9 a.m. to 2 p.m; Sat. and holidays: 9 a.m.-6 p.m; Sun. to Thurs. (limited menu): 8 a.m. to 3 p.m.; Tel: 052-258-9900; (08) 949-5964.
Kornmehl Farm
Located in the northern Negev, overlooking ancient farm ruins, the Kornmehl Farm was founded in 1997 by husband-and-wife team Anat and Daniel Kornmehl, both graduates of the Agricultural Science department at the Hebrew University. Daniel studied cheesemaking in both France and Israel, and the farm employs the French cheesemaking tradition while preserving the unique flavors of the Israeli desert, where the goats graze.
Cheese varieties include their version of Tomme, Camembert and Brie. Visitors are welcome to watch the afternoon milking at 4:30 and learn about the cheese-making process. Kornmehl cheeses are now sold in gourmet food shops in the center of the country (try Buy the Way in Tzomet Ra'anana).
Cheeses sold daily 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.
Tel: (08) 655-5140, 052-278-8051.
Jerusalem hills
A fixture in the Israel cheesemaking community with his long, white beard, Shai Seltzer is certainly a candidate for the godfather of modern Israeli goat-cheese making. This Israeli veteran and award-winning cheesemaker has been raising goats for the past 32 years. Following ancient tradition, the gourmet cheeses are aged in a dark cave, and they are sold only on-site at his base in the Sataf nature reserve, only on weekends, 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tel: (02) 533-3748.
www.goat-cheese.co.il/
If you're in this region, you can also pop into the Har Haruah goats' cheese farm, just behind Abu Ghosh. Despite the fact that they no longer have a restaurant, Dalia and Haim Himelfarb now package their 'pundak' in a picnic basket filled with a platter of cheeses, salad, olives, bread, and pita. Tel: (02) 534-5660. Thurs: 7 p.m, to 12 midnight; Fri. and holiday eves: 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.; Sat. and holidays: 10 a.m. to 7 p.m.; or by appointment. www.harharuach.com
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