Jerusalem Post, Daily; February 25, 2008
Click here for original
'Jerusalem Post' reporter Orit Arfa decides to dabble in the world of amateur Israeli pageantry
One Friday afternoon, I took a stroll to my neighborhood mall in Jerusalem to buy party favors for my upcoming 31st birthday bash. The minute I saw a poster on the entrance advertising the mall's second annual "Prettiest of Women" beauty pageant for women ages 30+, I knew I had to enter. "Like wine, women get better with age," read the poster - quite a comforting birthday message, and lo and behold, the audition was being held on my birthday. This would be my birthday - and Valentine's - gift to myself. The contest was scheduled for February 14, Valentine's Day.
I remember growing up loving American pageants but never really believing that I ever had what it takes to participate in one. But this contest was less intimidating - and, it seemed - winnable.
The audition process was extremely casual. It took place at the underground offices of the mall. They had me fill out a short application and write what makes me unique. I wrote that as an immigrant from Los Angeles, I would add an American touch to the competition. After all, aren't beauty pageants and malls American inventions?
I passed the audition, which drew about 40 women. They consisted of 13 women ages 30 to 52: two nurses, two makeup artists, an optometrist, an aerobics instructor, an artist, a secretary, a sales person, a director of a community center, a director of a Judaica factory, an aesthetician, a grandmother and me - the Jerusalem Post journalist.
At our first rehearsal we were asked to bring high heels. I didn't own any, so I had to buy a few cheap pairs (we were not funded for extra shoes and accessories, unfortunately.) The mall, however, would dress us up for the casual wear and evening gown portions of the competition with clothes from mall boutiques.
At the first rehearsal, we met the pageant director, Guy Glicksman, an attractive man with spiky platinum blonde hair who organizes fashion shows. He wore a fabulous scarf around his neck and a slight air of stylish snobbery. He immediately announced that he would put us to hard work.
First we had to learn how to walk like fashion models, and let me tell you - it's not as easy as it seems. When it was my turn to strut my stuff, I got the thumbs down.
"You bounce too much," Guy told me.
I spent the whole week in shoe stores - looking for more comfortable heels and practicing my walk. If 18-year- old girls without high school diplomas can do it, why can't I?
Fortunately, I improved. At the next rehearsal, Guy said my walk was "great," but I crossed my legs over a bit too much.
For three full weeks since the audition I think every contestant became unusually conscious of their looks, clothing, and personal style. I felt an uncontrollable desire to shop and upgrade my own wardrobe. I was glad to rediscover the sexiness of high heels, and on the day of the contest I discovered how big, curly and fluffy my hair could get - to the extent that I should have been introduced as Orit "Afro."
I noticed how some women underwent a complete makeover. One lady came in with bright red lipstick and short, dyed blonde hair. Guy had her dye her hair a darker shade, and the makeup artists dressed her face in mauves and pinks. It was quite a positive transformation.
Some women fussed more than others about their hair and makeup. I'm sure if we had to spend a few more days with each other a few verbal catfights might have broken out. But we were all mature women, over 30. Most were married with children.
I admit I wanted to win. The winner was going to get a free trip to Rome, and then, of course, the prestige of being a beauty queen. I thought I had a good chance. Hani the hair dresser told me he was rooting for me, and a man who worked at the camera store nearby assured me I would get first place. My family members told me I was the prettiest, but then again, they're family.
On the day of the contest, I realized the rehearsals didn't really prepare us for the contest. We never conducted a dress rehearsal on the short runway. Hundreds of people, mostly family members of the contestants, gathered around the runway cheering their favorites. I don't think the crowd wanted that icy strut that Guy favored, but a smiley, friendly, girl-next-door approach. But I walked down mean and serious for the judges.
We all waited on our heels at a dress store behind the runway as dancers and singers entertained the crowd in between our walks. At that point I wanted to rest my sore feet more than I wanted to win. I learned firsthand why feminists don't like heels. They can be torture.
Finally, I heard my name called on the microphone. To my surprise, I won this year's new category, "Havivat Hakahal" (Mall's Favorite). I guess it's like the popular vote.
I don't know the criteria for this award. Maybe the mall management was afraid that if I didn't win I'd write something nasty in the papers (and maybe I'd have been a little less diplomatic in my narrative had I not taken a title). Maybe they wanted ethnic balance. The second runner-up was a 33-year-old (blonde?) Israeli, the first runner-up was a 31-year-old Arab-Israeli, and the winner was a 39-year-old Russian-Israeli.
Or maybe, we just all deserved it, although I know some wouldn't agree.
I do know that it feels really good to have won something and to have participated in the contest. When done with taste, I personally believe that beauty contests are an excellent way of honoring women and helping them boost their confidence, sense of self, and personal style - for a better future for our children, of course.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Thursday, February 14, 2008
The white stuff (restaurant review)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; February 14, 2008
In-house masseurs, a huge lounge area, plasma screens for watching the game and a dining area downstairs. Is Lavan trying to be all things to all people?
Located in the Herzliya industrial compound, Lavan Supperbar is Israel's answer to Amsterdam's SupperClub - an upscale restaurant merging nightlife and lounging. Lavan opens at 7 p.m., making it an option for dinner and drinks only.
A bubbly, affable man named Shefer greeted us at the host station. Shefer, we quickly learned, is like the house entertainment, indulging customers with jokes and conversation. He took us to our seat at Lavan's lower tier, a sleekly designed restaurant with a rectangular bar at its heart. Tables along the wall are separated by blinds to allow for intimacy and coziness.
As the efficient but rather unfriendly waitress took our order, we wistfully eyed the upper lounge above - Lavan's major attraction. The upper tier looked heavenly with its fluffy white cushioned seating areas decorated with plasma screens showcasing video art. Shefer apologized that all lounge areas were reserved, but, attuned to our disappointment, he worked his magic and graciously seated us upstairs minutes later.
We sat back and relaxed in the cushions and began to understand why Lavan is called Lavan (white). The ceilings, floors and cubed light shades are colored in white hues broken up by red, black and yellow furniture. Gadi Halperin (of Spaghettim and Kyoto fame) and Agnon Granot designed Lavan with urban, hi-techy overtones.
The waitress upstairs turned out to be friendlier than the one below, and as we waited for our appetizers, I wondered if Lavan relied on its lofty concept to draw crowds or if the Mediterranean-tinged menu food would justify the restaurant without the concept.
The shrimp in a buttery tomato sauce (NIS 49) certainly made the grade. Ilan Hefetz, the chef at Lavan for the last six months, did an admirable job cooking the shrimp to perfection. The asparagus wrapped in beef fillet (NIS 49) was overall successful, but at the end of one tip a bit of the tasty, peppery meat got difficult to chew, and I couldn't identify the cause in the dim lighting. Was the meat undercooked or did I come upon a piece of gristle?
At that point I wondered if we should have eaten dinner at the lower level where I could sit at a proper table with proper lighting, and then go up to the top for drinks. But we looked down and only two tables and a few bar stools were occupied downstairs; not so inviting.
So I decided to relax with the in-house massage. The massage therapist floating around gave me the option of having the massage on the cushions or at a treatment bed located in a corner of the balcony. I opted for the treatment bed because my back was particularly sore. But it was difficult to truly relax as I lay on the bed. The chatter and music distracted me. I might as well have taken the massage on the cushions just for fun and not as a serious attempt to soothe my aching muscles.
When I returned to our seating corner, I noticed a soccer game being broadcast on the wall - probably for the bar-goers below - and it put a dent on the groovy, relaxed vibe. For a moment I felt like I was in the living room of some soccer fans.
But we managed to ignore the game as our entree arrived. The lighting made it difficult for me to gauge the cut and exact color of the meat of my entrecote steak (NIS 98), but it struck me as medium-rare and not medium as I ordered. In his forgivable, quippy style, Sheffer cheekily accused me of not having developed my taste buds for steak - I should be able to judge a steak in dim lighting - but he amiably took it back to the grill. It came back with a few burnt edges, but overall the meat tasted good. The mashed potatos were mediocre. Was the dish worth the price?
My dining partner had absolutely no complaints about her sea bass wrapped in chard (NIS 94) on a bed of quinoa. She called it one of the best dishes she had ever tasted.
As we were about to leave we noticed several couples getting cozy and even a little tipsy on the sofas nearby, while the lower level hadn't yet filled up. I asked Shefer why they don't convert the lower level to a lounge area, and he said that the lower level started out as a lounge, but that ultimately they decided to create a hybrid. By no means has Lavan neglected the culinary side of its concept, but with all the restaurants in the Herzliya's industrial zone, I wonder if Lavan's menu is distinctive enough to attract diners only.
Lavan is a recommended option for a romantic date or for a group party. Minus the soccer game it is intimate, sexy and different. It might just need a better integration of the upper and lower levels.
Rehov Abba Eban 27, Herzliya,
(09) 958-6080, www.supperbar.com.
In-house masseurs, a huge lounge area, plasma screens for watching the game and a dining area downstairs. Is Lavan trying to be all things to all people?
Located in the Herzliya industrial compound, Lavan Supperbar is Israel's answer to Amsterdam's SupperClub - an upscale restaurant merging nightlife and lounging. Lavan opens at 7 p.m., making it an option for dinner and drinks only.
A bubbly, affable man named Shefer greeted us at the host station. Shefer, we quickly learned, is like the house entertainment, indulging customers with jokes and conversation. He took us to our seat at Lavan's lower tier, a sleekly designed restaurant with a rectangular bar at its heart. Tables along the wall are separated by blinds to allow for intimacy and coziness.
As the efficient but rather unfriendly waitress took our order, we wistfully eyed the upper lounge above - Lavan's major attraction. The upper tier looked heavenly with its fluffy white cushioned seating areas decorated with plasma screens showcasing video art. Shefer apologized that all lounge areas were reserved, but, attuned to our disappointment, he worked his magic and graciously seated us upstairs minutes later.
We sat back and relaxed in the cushions and began to understand why Lavan is called Lavan (white). The ceilings, floors and cubed light shades are colored in white hues broken up by red, black and yellow furniture. Gadi Halperin (of Spaghettim and Kyoto fame) and Agnon Granot designed Lavan with urban, hi-techy overtones.
The waitress upstairs turned out to be friendlier than the one below, and as we waited for our appetizers, I wondered if Lavan relied on its lofty concept to draw crowds or if the Mediterranean-tinged menu food would justify the restaurant without the concept.
The shrimp in a buttery tomato sauce (NIS 49) certainly made the grade. Ilan Hefetz, the chef at Lavan for the last six months, did an admirable job cooking the shrimp to perfection. The asparagus wrapped in beef fillet (NIS 49) was overall successful, but at the end of one tip a bit of the tasty, peppery meat got difficult to chew, and I couldn't identify the cause in the dim lighting. Was the meat undercooked or did I come upon a piece of gristle?
At that point I wondered if we should have eaten dinner at the lower level where I could sit at a proper table with proper lighting, and then go up to the top for drinks. But we looked down and only two tables and a few bar stools were occupied downstairs; not so inviting.
So I decided to relax with the in-house massage. The massage therapist floating around gave me the option of having the massage on the cushions or at a treatment bed located in a corner of the balcony. I opted for the treatment bed because my back was particularly sore. But it was difficult to truly relax as I lay on the bed. The chatter and music distracted me. I might as well have taken the massage on the cushions just for fun and not as a serious attempt to soothe my aching muscles.
When I returned to our seating corner, I noticed a soccer game being broadcast on the wall - probably for the bar-goers below - and it put a dent on the groovy, relaxed vibe. For a moment I felt like I was in the living room of some soccer fans.
But we managed to ignore the game as our entree arrived. The lighting made it difficult for me to gauge the cut and exact color of the meat of my entrecote steak (NIS 98), but it struck me as medium-rare and not medium as I ordered. In his forgivable, quippy style, Sheffer cheekily accused me of not having developed my taste buds for steak - I should be able to judge a steak in dim lighting - but he amiably took it back to the grill. It came back with a few burnt edges, but overall the meat tasted good. The mashed potatos were mediocre. Was the dish worth the price?
My dining partner had absolutely no complaints about her sea bass wrapped in chard (NIS 94) on a bed of quinoa. She called it one of the best dishes she had ever tasted.
As we were about to leave we noticed several couples getting cozy and even a little tipsy on the sofas nearby, while the lower level hadn't yet filled up. I asked Shefer why they don't convert the lower level to a lounge area, and he said that the lower level started out as a lounge, but that ultimately they decided to create a hybrid. By no means has Lavan neglected the culinary side of its concept, but with all the restaurants in the Herzliya's industrial zone, I wonder if Lavan's menu is distinctive enough to attract diners only.
Lavan is a recommended option for a romantic date or for a group party. Minus the soccer game it is intimate, sexy and different. It might just need a better integration of the upper and lower levels.
Rehov Abba Eban 27, Herzliya,
(09) 958-6080, www.supperbar.com.
They’re saving me from ‘spinsterhood’
The Jewish Journal; February 14, 2008
Click here for original
A girlfriend and I decided to meet at a mega-bar in Jerusalem to catch up -- and not to pick up or be picked up; I've long abandoned the prospect of meeting my prince charming at a bar, particularly this one, which isn't known for its intellectual clientele.
Sitting at the bar, my friend and I began talking, and a mildly handsome guy and his friends took the stools next to us. In a bid at picking me up, the guy stroked my "Kotel ring."
"What's this ring?" he asked. I briefly explained that it was styled after the Western Wall with my name gilded in gold. Eager not to give him any encouraging signals, I turned back to my friend.
During a lull in our girl-talk, the guy turned to me again and asked me what I do for a living, adding: "You look like someone important."
That's an original pick-up line, and since I'm as happy as anyone for an ego-boost, I asked him what he meant.
"You look sophisticated, highly intelligent and very sexy. I think that one day I'll see you on television."
Note to men: Flattery always works. He got my full attention. He introduced himself as Guy, and, with my full blessing, began to psychoanalyze me. He told me that I looked out of place and that my demeanor was unapproachable, intimidating, even condescending. I agreed that at times I can be snobby, so he advised me to start giving people a chance, to stop judging people superficially. He announced that he has special intuitive powers -- it runs in his Tunisian family -- and that he could foresee that if I didn't lower my dating standards, I'd end up very alone. He took his forecast a step further by telling me that if he were to take me out to dinner, he'd have to put on "boxing gloves" -- for I'm not easy -- but he's ready for the challenge. I'm not necessarily his physical type, but I intrigued him.
I was tempted by the offer and fascinated by his assessments -- I know I'm not a typical woman of my age -- but I wasn't tempted enough to give him my number. I settled for a drink invitation, and as the night wore on, my friend and I took a stroll around the bar to browse.
Guy followed us, and I realized that, while he was amusing, I just wasn't into him. Thanks to his great intuitive powers, he sensed this and turned to my friend, who also wanted to be psychoanalyzed. He told her that she likes to be around powerful people. Then he asked for her number. Gee, I guess I wasn't so special after all, and he was just another "guy."
A few days later, a friend set me up. While this guy was a little too nerdy looking for my taste -- with his rimless glasses, Elvis-like sideburns and bookish demeanor -- I nevertheless decided to go for it, to follow Guy's advice and "lower my dating standards."
This fellow, too, works as a journalist, and, unlike Guy, his approach was refined and polite. Our first date at an Irish pub was rather pleasant. The conversation generally flowed, and I forgave his strange, triangular sideburns and the fact that he deliberately didn't leave the waitress a tip. He didn't seem well-versed in dating etiquette, and it took him four days before he asked me out again. When he did, he had me choose the time and venue. I was a little put off by his passivity.
Eventually, his slow pace simply frustrated me, and I guess I didn't like him enough to keep trying my patience. He couldn't get his act together to plan a third date, and I told him that I didn't think it was going to work. "Too bad," he muttered sadly over the phone.
A few days later, I was surprised by a letter -- via snail mail -- in which he confessed his feelings for me through elegant calligraphy on nice stationery. He wrote that he knows he missed a step, that on the last date he had longed to kiss me (on the the tip of the ear, for whatever reason), and that he wants another chance. Over e-mail, I gently declined.
He responded with a line that went something like this: You're afraid of falling in love, and to avoid developing a long-term relationship you come up with obscure excuses. I can help cure this psychosis.
This time, I wasn't so gentle in my rejection.
So is this the new line that men attempt with women over 30: "Let me save you from your fear of intimacy"? Do they think we are so afraid of ending up as spinsters that they have to appeal to our lonely femininity? Are they so afraid of rejection that they have to resort to emotional blackmail?
Why can't a man just say: "I'm into you! I really like you -- your looks, your mind, your soul. I want to get to know you. Let's spend time together." And keep it at that!
If we are compatible, maybe a relationship will develop. And if we like each other -- then, yes, feed me the line, please! Tell me that you will stick it out with me when I get needy or complex or difficult and that we will push each other to grow as people and as partners. For I'm not afraid of intimacy -- I want to be in an exciting, healthy, happy relationship -- I'm just afraid of intimacy with the wrong man.
And the man who uses the pick-up line "let me rescue you from your early 30s neuroticism" is definitely the wrong man.
Click here for original
A girlfriend and I decided to meet at a mega-bar in Jerusalem to catch up -- and not to pick up or be picked up; I've long abandoned the prospect of meeting my prince charming at a bar, particularly this one, which isn't known for its intellectual clientele.
Sitting at the bar, my friend and I began talking, and a mildly handsome guy and his friends took the stools next to us. In a bid at picking me up, the guy stroked my "Kotel ring."
"What's this ring?" he asked. I briefly explained that it was styled after the Western Wall with my name gilded in gold. Eager not to give him any encouraging signals, I turned back to my friend.
During a lull in our girl-talk, the guy turned to me again and asked me what I do for a living, adding: "You look like someone important."
That's an original pick-up line, and since I'm as happy as anyone for an ego-boost, I asked him what he meant.
"You look sophisticated, highly intelligent and very sexy. I think that one day I'll see you on television."
Note to men: Flattery always works. He got my full attention. He introduced himself as Guy, and, with my full blessing, began to psychoanalyze me. He told me that I looked out of place and that my demeanor was unapproachable, intimidating, even condescending. I agreed that at times I can be snobby, so he advised me to start giving people a chance, to stop judging people superficially. He announced that he has special intuitive powers -- it runs in his Tunisian family -- and that he could foresee that if I didn't lower my dating standards, I'd end up very alone. He took his forecast a step further by telling me that if he were to take me out to dinner, he'd have to put on "boxing gloves" -- for I'm not easy -- but he's ready for the challenge. I'm not necessarily his physical type, but I intrigued him.
I was tempted by the offer and fascinated by his assessments -- I know I'm not a typical woman of my age -- but I wasn't tempted enough to give him my number. I settled for a drink invitation, and as the night wore on, my friend and I took a stroll around the bar to browse.
Guy followed us, and I realized that, while he was amusing, I just wasn't into him. Thanks to his great intuitive powers, he sensed this and turned to my friend, who also wanted to be psychoanalyzed. He told her that she likes to be around powerful people. Then he asked for her number. Gee, I guess I wasn't so special after all, and he was just another "guy."
A few days later, a friend set me up. While this guy was a little too nerdy looking for my taste -- with his rimless glasses, Elvis-like sideburns and bookish demeanor -- I nevertheless decided to go for it, to follow Guy's advice and "lower my dating standards."
This fellow, too, works as a journalist, and, unlike Guy, his approach was refined and polite. Our first date at an Irish pub was rather pleasant. The conversation generally flowed, and I forgave his strange, triangular sideburns and the fact that he deliberately didn't leave the waitress a tip. He didn't seem well-versed in dating etiquette, and it took him four days before he asked me out again. When he did, he had me choose the time and venue. I was a little put off by his passivity.
Eventually, his slow pace simply frustrated me, and I guess I didn't like him enough to keep trying my patience. He couldn't get his act together to plan a third date, and I told him that I didn't think it was going to work. "Too bad," he muttered sadly over the phone.
A few days later, I was surprised by a letter -- via snail mail -- in which he confessed his feelings for me through elegant calligraphy on nice stationery. He wrote that he knows he missed a step, that on the last date he had longed to kiss me (on the the tip of the ear, for whatever reason), and that he wants another chance. Over e-mail, I gently declined.
He responded with a line that went something like this: You're afraid of falling in love, and to avoid developing a long-term relationship you come up with obscure excuses. I can help cure this psychosis.
This time, I wasn't so gentle in my rejection.
So is this the new line that men attempt with women over 30: "Let me save you from your fear of intimacy"? Do they think we are so afraid of ending up as spinsters that they have to appeal to our lonely femininity? Are they so afraid of rejection that they have to resort to emotional blackmail?
Why can't a man just say: "I'm into you! I really like you -- your looks, your mind, your soul. I want to get to know you. Let's spend time together." And keep it at that!
If we are compatible, maybe a relationship will develop. And if we like each other -- then, yes, feed me the line, please! Tell me that you will stick it out with me when I get needy or complex or difficult and that we will push each other to grow as people and as partners. For I'm not afraid of intimacy -- I want to be in an exciting, healthy, happy relationship -- I'm just afraid of intimacy with the wrong man.
And the man who uses the pick-up line "let me rescue you from your early 30s neuroticism" is definitely the wrong man.
Friday, February 8, 2008
A place to play (bar review)
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; February 8, 2008
'One of my first memories is of my grandmother bringing me to a toy store for Hanukka," recalls Elad Varon, co-owner of the new Toy lounge-bar in the center of Jerusalem. Varon, also a DJ, is best remembered by the capital's partiers as publicist and manager of Haoman 17 (when it was still a nightclub).
Everyone who grew up in Jerusalem about two decades ago wistfully remembers House of Toys, he says - a fantasy land of three stories filled with toys of every kind. Now that Varon's all grown-up at 30, he and his partners have turned the former toy store into a nightlife playground where beautiful secular adults can make other fantasies come true.
"It was a dump. There was nothing here," Varon says of his return to the site off Jaffa Road to check it out as a potential venue. But he and his partners, who include Jerusalem nightlife hotshot Adi Talmor (of Colony, Layla Bar and Sushi Rehavia) and interior designer Amir Cohen have turned the "dump" into an elegant, neat, sexy house of liquor. Three stories of bars and lounges playfully decorated with toy motifs provide ample room for Jerusalem locals to drink, flirt and lounge.
The toy theme is subtle so as not to make it too childish: tabletops are multi-colored, the wallpaper is designed in colorful retro patterns, the chandelier looks like big white balls, and the bar is reminiscent of a Lego tower.
Given that the place was built just as the smoking law went into effect, Toy positioned a spacious non-smoking lounge bar downstairs with its own entrance. (Apparently, the law allows for a certain ground area to be dedicated to smoking.)
The large parquet floor could easily serve as a dance floor, but Toy doesn't bill itself as a dance bar. Patrons, however, are free to get up and groove as the occasion arises.
Sitting at the bar with friends one Saturday night, I found the service friendly and attentive. The bar being full, I settled into a corner seat next to a column that blocked my line of sight (come early to get a good seat). The drink menu is rich, with classic cocktails, Toy specialties and mixes based on cava (Spanish champagne) or vodka. Toy also offers the increasingly popular German wheat beer Paulener on tap. Prices are reasonable. Most cocktails go for NIS 32 (compared to NIS 40 at most other bars.) The menu includes basic finger foods: nachos, kabob, chicken wings, schnitzel and the like.
At its opening party a few weeks ago, the place was packed with a largely secular Jerusalem crowd - journalists, students and professionals anticipating that Toy would become the next local "hot spot." The atmosphere was loose and playful, but it took me about 20 minutes to get a beer.
Toy is packaged with a strict age limit: 23 and up, so yeshiva kids loitering in nearby Zion Square need not play there. Toy is seeking to become a niche for the glamorous and worldly secular locals who bemoan Jerusalem's lack of cosmopolitan style.
On weekends Varon takes time off from his managerial duties to spin an eclectic mix for the crowd, but on any other night he can be seen manning the bars and registers, which is no kids' stuff.
But most everyone can play.
Rehov Yosef Du Nawas 6, (02) 623-6666. Open nightly from 9 p.m.; Friday from 10 p.m.
'One of my first memories is of my grandmother bringing me to a toy store for Hanukka," recalls Elad Varon, co-owner of the new Toy lounge-bar in the center of Jerusalem. Varon, also a DJ, is best remembered by the capital's partiers as publicist and manager of Haoman 17 (when it was still a nightclub).
Everyone who grew up in Jerusalem about two decades ago wistfully remembers House of Toys, he says - a fantasy land of three stories filled with toys of every kind. Now that Varon's all grown-up at 30, he and his partners have turned the former toy store into a nightlife playground where beautiful secular adults can make other fantasies come true.
"It was a dump. There was nothing here," Varon says of his return to the site off Jaffa Road to check it out as a potential venue. But he and his partners, who include Jerusalem nightlife hotshot Adi Talmor (of Colony, Layla Bar and Sushi Rehavia) and interior designer Amir Cohen have turned the "dump" into an elegant, neat, sexy house of liquor. Three stories of bars and lounges playfully decorated with toy motifs provide ample room for Jerusalem locals to drink, flirt and lounge.
The toy theme is subtle so as not to make it too childish: tabletops are multi-colored, the wallpaper is designed in colorful retro patterns, the chandelier looks like big white balls, and the bar is reminiscent of a Lego tower.
Given that the place was built just as the smoking law went into effect, Toy positioned a spacious non-smoking lounge bar downstairs with its own entrance. (Apparently, the law allows for a certain ground area to be dedicated to smoking.)
The large parquet floor could easily serve as a dance floor, but Toy doesn't bill itself as a dance bar. Patrons, however, are free to get up and groove as the occasion arises.
Sitting at the bar with friends one Saturday night, I found the service friendly and attentive. The bar being full, I settled into a corner seat next to a column that blocked my line of sight (come early to get a good seat). The drink menu is rich, with classic cocktails, Toy specialties and mixes based on cava (Spanish champagne) or vodka. Toy also offers the increasingly popular German wheat beer Paulener on tap. Prices are reasonable. Most cocktails go for NIS 32 (compared to NIS 40 at most other bars.) The menu includes basic finger foods: nachos, kabob, chicken wings, schnitzel and the like.
At its opening party a few weeks ago, the place was packed with a largely secular Jerusalem crowd - journalists, students and professionals anticipating that Toy would become the next local "hot spot." The atmosphere was loose and playful, but it took me about 20 minutes to get a beer.
Toy is packaged with a strict age limit: 23 and up, so yeshiva kids loitering in nearby Zion Square need not play there. Toy is seeking to become a niche for the glamorous and worldly secular locals who bemoan Jerusalem's lack of cosmopolitan style.
On weekends Varon takes time off from his managerial duties to spin an eclectic mix for the crowd, but on any other night he can be seen manning the bars and registers, which is no kids' stuff.
But most everyone can play.
Rehov Yosef Du Nawas 6, (02) 623-6666. Open nightly from 9 p.m.; Friday from 10 p.m.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Room service (listing)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; February 7, 2008
The best of new and newly renovated accommodations in the Galilee
With its rolling hills, forests, and proximity to coastal beaches, Western Galilee is one of the most beautiful vacation spots in Israel. Blame it on patriotism, but right after the Second Lebanon War, the region experienced a growth spurt of hotels and tzimmers (guest houses). Here are a few options for places to stay in Western Galilee, some old, some new, each with its own concept and price. (Prices listed according to weekday/weekend, per couple, including breakfast.)
About a year ago a couple named Tal Yeshua and Bat- Chen Aviram realized their vision for a hotel chain geared to families and couples with an adventurous spirit. Travel Hotels offers simple, comfortable, kibbutz-style rooms, but its special attraction is a staff that guides guests in mapping out regional hikes and tours, thereby transforming the great Galilean outdoors into the hotel lobby. They have forged partnerships with attractions and eateries in the region to let guests tailor their own vacation experience. While not as luxurious as tzimmers in the region, this is a more affordable option for those who find satisfaction with the beauty and simplicity of nature. NIS 380/400 (extra charge for breakfast upgrade); Travel Hotels, Kibbutz Eilon and Gesher Haziv, www. travelhotels. co.il (04) 995-8568
Families who want the kids to have fun too can opt for Brenda's B&B Ranch, a friendly guest house equipped with a horse ranch offering pony rides and a playroom with a ping pong and pool table. The guest house was founded 12 years ago by Brenda and Bobby Shapiro, a South African couple who moved to Moshav Ben-Ami three decades ago. They're among the country hospitality pioneers, having founded the B&B long before the tzimmer industry took off. The rooms are reminiscent of kibbutz guest houses, clean and simple, without the design hoop-la of the luxury tzimmers. The rooms have a living room area, a kitchenette, and a hot tub in the bedroom too to give the adults some down time. The Shapiros, who live next door, open their lychee orchards for family picking. NIS 550; Brenda's B&B Ranch, (04) 982- 2320; 052-279-4436; NIS 600-800
Amos and Adi Cohen have been running a country lodge with eight wooden cabins for the past seven years at Moshav Goren. Right after the Lebanon War they launched an upgraded line of eight highly stylized tzimmers made of Arab stone and Finnish wood, true marvels of design and luxury. The couple thought of every colorful and plush trimming: a fireplace, a fish aquarium, surround sound, an elaborate colored lighting system, a mini wine cellar, a fancy massage chair, and a therapeutic outdoor Jacuzzi. A common dining and recreation center is under construction, and the lodge is now recognized by the Ministry of Tourism as a "melonit" (small hotel). Wood cabins: NIS 500/750; Upgraded stone/wood cabins: NIS 750/1000; The Galilean Spirit (Haruah Haglili), www.adis.co.il; (04) 980-6951/9
The name may be deceiving. There is no full-fledged spa at "Spa on the Edge" located in the border moshav of Shtula (although treatments can be ordered in), but it is definitely located "on the edge." The tzimmers have been built at a mountaintop about two kilometers away from the border where Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev were kidnapped by Hizbullah. Shtula resident Meir Ben-David announced his plans for the tzimmers when reporters came to check out the damage of a Katyusha rocket that hit his backyard. He fulfilled his promise. Right near his home, a vegetable, herb and flower garden adorns the two handsome wooden units equipped with an indoor/outdoor Jacuzzi, an indoor sauna, and a rooftop lounge area where couples can snuggle with the view of the Lebanese hills (when it's not raining water or rockets). NIS 650/850; Spa on the Edge (Spa al Hakatzeh), www.zimmerland. co.il, 050-216-1732;
NIS 800-1,000
When Catherine and Daniel Groner made aliya from Paris in 2006 (right before the Second Lebanon War), they brought a little of France with them, converting a home at Moshav Manot into Villa Provence. No detail has been spared to give guests the feeling that they are in a villa in the middle of the French country. The six suites at the "villa" are designed exquisitely, each with a different theme and color scheme. The wood and upholstery hail from France, while the metalwork comes from Marrakesh, Morocco. The spa is small yet beautifully trimmed with tiles and French soaps. The Groners live on the premises, making visitors feel like their personal house guests. NIS 900/1,000 (1,800 two nights); "Spa day" including breakfast and treatment: NIS 650. Villa Provence; www.villaprovence.co.il, 04- 980-6246
For those seeking some Sephardic warmth, there's Ahuzat Hoshen in Moshav Ein Ya'acov (a largely Kurdish community) which opened its doors in July 2007. Francine and Eyal Pinhas (she's Moroccan and he's Iraqi) have built three beautiful stone tzimmer units equipped with a Jacuzzi, a fireplace, a kitchenette with an espresso machine, and small seating corner. At first glance the five-star accommodations do not exhibit any distinct design theme or attraction, but as an added value they offer a small heated whirlpool (tented in the winter) where couples (either alone or with their friends) can get cozy and hot in the winter. NIS 800/ 1,000; Ahuzat Hoshen, www.hoshen. org.il; 052-623-2888.
The best of new and newly renovated accommodations in the Galilee
With its rolling hills, forests, and proximity to coastal beaches, Western Galilee is one of the most beautiful vacation spots in Israel. Blame it on patriotism, but right after the Second Lebanon War, the region experienced a growth spurt of hotels and tzimmers (guest houses). Here are a few options for places to stay in Western Galilee, some old, some new, each with its own concept and price. (Prices listed according to weekday/weekend, per couple, including breakfast.)
About a year ago a couple named Tal Yeshua and Bat- Chen Aviram realized their vision for a hotel chain geared to families and couples with an adventurous spirit. Travel Hotels offers simple, comfortable, kibbutz-style rooms, but its special attraction is a staff that guides guests in mapping out regional hikes and tours, thereby transforming the great Galilean outdoors into the hotel lobby. They have forged partnerships with attractions and eateries in the region to let guests tailor their own vacation experience. While not as luxurious as tzimmers in the region, this is a more affordable option for those who find satisfaction with the beauty and simplicity of nature. NIS 380/400 (extra charge for breakfast upgrade); Travel Hotels, Kibbutz Eilon and Gesher Haziv, www. travelhotels. co.il (04) 995-8568
Families who want the kids to have fun too can opt for Brenda's B&B Ranch, a friendly guest house equipped with a horse ranch offering pony rides and a playroom with a ping pong and pool table. The guest house was founded 12 years ago by Brenda and Bobby Shapiro, a South African couple who moved to Moshav Ben-Ami three decades ago. They're among the country hospitality pioneers, having founded the B&B long before the tzimmer industry took off. The rooms are reminiscent of kibbutz guest houses, clean and simple, without the design hoop-la of the luxury tzimmers. The rooms have a living room area, a kitchenette, and a hot tub in the bedroom too to give the adults some down time. The Shapiros, who live next door, open their lychee orchards for family picking. NIS 550; Brenda's B&B Ranch, (04) 982- 2320; 052-279-4436; NIS 600-800
Amos and Adi Cohen have been running a country lodge with eight wooden cabins for the past seven years at Moshav Goren. Right after the Lebanon War they launched an upgraded line of eight highly stylized tzimmers made of Arab stone and Finnish wood, true marvels of design and luxury. The couple thought of every colorful and plush trimming: a fireplace, a fish aquarium, surround sound, an elaborate colored lighting system, a mini wine cellar, a fancy massage chair, and a therapeutic outdoor Jacuzzi. A common dining and recreation center is under construction, and the lodge is now recognized by the Ministry of Tourism as a "melonit" (small hotel). Wood cabins: NIS 500/750; Upgraded stone/wood cabins: NIS 750/1000; The Galilean Spirit (Haruah Haglili), www.adis.co.il; (04) 980-6951/9
The name may be deceiving. There is no full-fledged spa at "Spa on the Edge" located in the border moshav of Shtula (although treatments can be ordered in), but it is definitely located "on the edge." The tzimmers have been built at a mountaintop about two kilometers away from the border where Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev were kidnapped by Hizbullah. Shtula resident Meir Ben-David announced his plans for the tzimmers when reporters came to check out the damage of a Katyusha rocket that hit his backyard. He fulfilled his promise. Right near his home, a vegetable, herb and flower garden adorns the two handsome wooden units equipped with an indoor/outdoor Jacuzzi, an indoor sauna, and a rooftop lounge area where couples can snuggle with the view of the Lebanese hills (when it's not raining water or rockets). NIS 650/850; Spa on the Edge (Spa al Hakatzeh), www.zimmerland. co.il, 050-216-1732;
NIS 800-1,000
When Catherine and Daniel Groner made aliya from Paris in 2006 (right before the Second Lebanon War), they brought a little of France with them, converting a home at Moshav Manot into Villa Provence. No detail has been spared to give guests the feeling that they are in a villa in the middle of the French country. The six suites at the "villa" are designed exquisitely, each with a different theme and color scheme. The wood and upholstery hail from France, while the metalwork comes from Marrakesh, Morocco. The spa is small yet beautifully trimmed with tiles and French soaps. The Groners live on the premises, making visitors feel like their personal house guests. NIS 900/1,000 (1,800 two nights); "Spa day" including breakfast and treatment: NIS 650. Villa Provence; www.villaprovence.co.il, 04- 980-6246
For those seeking some Sephardic warmth, there's Ahuzat Hoshen in Moshav Ein Ya'acov (a largely Kurdish community) which opened its doors in July 2007. Francine and Eyal Pinhas (she's Moroccan and he's Iraqi) have built three beautiful stone tzimmer units equipped with a Jacuzzi, a fireplace, a kitchenette with an espresso machine, and small seating corner. At first glance the five-star accommodations do not exhibit any distinct design theme or attraction, but as an added value they offer a small heated whirlpool (tented in the winter) where couples (either alone or with their friends) can get cozy and hot in the winter. NIS 800/ 1,000; Ahuzat Hoshen, www.hoshen. org.il; 052-623-2888.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Spreading the word
Jerusalem Post, In Jerusalem; January 25, 2008
Click here for original
Local writers of Jewish non-fiction need look no further than their hometown to publish their books.
On a recent cool Thursday night in Baka, some 100 people gathered at Yedidya Synagogue to celebrate the launch of Arc 19, the new edition of an annual journal of English short stories and poetry.
As journal contributors, backdropped by photographs and etchings by local artists, took turns reading aloud their pieces to a captive Anglo crowd, the synagogue transformed into a literary salon.
Arc 19 is one of the few established outlets for English-language writers to get their poetry and short stories published and distributed locally. It was started in 1982 by the Israeli Association of Writers in English with a rotating editorship as part of the association's goal to promote English writing in Israel.
"Loads of Anglo-Saxons who write come to Jerusalem. There are three or four ongoing groups where people meet on a weekly or bi-weekly basis to work on writing or to develop writing," says Judy Labensohn, the coordinator for Bar-Ilan University's Shaindy Rudoff Graduate Program in Creative Writing, which was launched in 2002 to nurture Jewish writers.
"Jews read and write. We're the 'people of the book.' Writing is one way of dealing with all the excitement of being in Jerusalem - the emotions, the associations," she adds.
For most of the writers at the launch party, however, Jerusalem is not the place to look for a broad platform to publish their original fiction.
"I think most people writing fiction in English probably try to get published abroad. I certainly do," says Mordechai Beck, this year's co-editor of Arc 19 with Jeffrey Green.
Authors writing non-fiction about Torah, Judaism and Jewish spirituality, on the other hand, can easily find local outlets for publication. Jerusalem is home to close to a dozen publishers of English-language books specializing in Jewish interest non- fiction, including Feldheim, Gefen, Mazo, Simcha and Urim. Educational institutes, such as the Shalem Center, Yad Vashem and Hebrew University, also operate presses that publish English books and journals in scholarly fields.
The size of Jerusalem's English publishing industry owes its strength to the influx of olim from English- speaking countries.
"There is a whole creative world of English writing in terms of editing and publishing in a city that is really a foreign country," says Stuart Schnee, a Jerusalem-based book publicist and book "shepherd" who guides aspiring authors through the writing and publishing process. "There is always a new title coming out of Jerusalem."
Still, "I see less fiction than I do of other things," he adds. "It doesn't mean there aren't 25 writers now pumping out great fiction. It could be that in Jerusalem there is so much going on that inspires non-fiction - politics, news, etc."
The proliferation of Jewish publishers in the capital of the Jewish world may have some sociological roots.
Jews in general are known to read more than other cultures, explains Hebrew Union College Prof. Steven M. Cohen, who specializes in Jewish social policy. Cohen attributes this trend to Jewish communities' emphasis on education and their drive to advance culturally to overcome their sense of exclusion from the larger society.
Religious Jews in particular are known bibliophiles, he adds. "Just as religious Christians are noted for their high rates of book-buying, so too do religious Jews have a special added interest in reading, be it explicitly for religious-oriented learning or as a leisure activity on Shabbat or holidays."
Publishers of Jewish or religious-oriented non-fiction generally have to look no further than Israel's borders to find manuscripts.
"In Israel there are more authors of the kinds of books I can publish in English than in America," says Yaakov Feldheim, semi-retired president of Feldheim Publishers, which annually publishes some 30 "true Torah" English titles about Jewish law, Orthodox Jewish life and biblical commentaries.
"Anybody who's religious, who really wants the utmost religious experience, will come to Israel sooner or later," says Feldheim. "I'm at the hub of the renaissance of Judaism in the world."
Feldheim's father founded the publishing house in New York in 1940 to meet a demand for English books catered to an Orthodox audience. He created the Jerusalem branch in 1967, a few years after making aliya.
Today Feldheim Publishers exports about $5 million worth of books a year and last year opened three retail bookstores in Jerusalem, one in Bnei Brak and one in Beit Shemesh to cater to the local English-speaking market.
Among Feldheim's authors are American-born Rabbi Baruch Finkelstein and his wife Michal, co-authors of B'sha'ah Tova: The Jewish Woman's Guide to Pregnancy and Childbirth and The Third Key: The Jewish Couple's Guide to Fertility.
Currently residents of Beit El, they sought out publishers in the US, but decided to go with Feldheim "because they have a good name and it was convenient that we're here. We could work with them easier," says Baruch Finkelstein.
The immediate accessibility to the Hebrew-speaking religious market has been another advantage of publishing in the Jewish homeland, with B'Sha'ah Tova's Hebrew version enjoying 40 percent more in sales than the original English.
"ORIGINALLY, 95 percent of our authors came from Israel," says Simcha Publishing director Yaacov Peterseil. "In the last two years we decided to branch out and we put ads in the US. Now we're inundated."
As more authors are being pooled abroad, more readers of Jewish titles in English are emerging in Israel. "Until around 2004, we kept only between 5-7 percent of the books we printed here in Israel. Ninety percent went to the States mostly," continues Peterseil. "Now things have changed. We're printing larger quantities in the first print run, but more importantly we keep 20% to 30% of print runs because of the growth of the English-language book market in Israel."
According to Ilan Greenfield of Gefen Publishing House, 5,000 sales for a Jewish book is a success. Many of his top sellers are considered "sleepers," trend-defying books that sell consistently over the course of several years.
Founded in 1981, Gefen publishes about 30 English titles a year, covering Judaism, Zionism, and Israel-related subjects for Jews across the religious spectrum, as well as for Christian Zionists.
"We believe the Christian market is a very large market for books about Israel, the Holy Land and Judaism as well," says Greenfield.
Still, Gefen rarely ventures into fiction. "It's a different ball game," explains Greenfield. "There's much greater competition in the American market. The Jewish market is not big enough for that. We publish a very wide variety of books on the one hand, but sometimes you have to limit yourself and not do certain things. We think there are other publishers that do that better."
One such example, says Greenfield, is Toby Press, which was founded in 1999 by New York immigrant Matthew Miller.
Although the Toby editorial staff is based in Jerusalem, Toby brands itself as an independent American publisher of literary fiction, with another office in Connecticut and 20 salespeople stationed across North America, where the books are printed and bound. North America and England account for about 90% of its sales.
Also, Toby does not cast itself as a Jewish publisher, even though a third of its authors are Jewish (including translated authors), such as contemporary writers Haim Sabato and Emuna Elon and veteran Israeli writers S.Y. Agnon and Chaim Nachman Bialik.
"I think if you look at any publisher of fiction in America, it's about a quarter Jewish anyway," says Miller.
Toby Press puts out three catalogues, one for a full range of English titles, one for titles of Jewish interest and one for Hebrew titles.
Topping its recent general fiction list are Tom Coffey's Blood Alley, Christiana McKenna's The Misremembered Man and Donald Harrington's Father Along.
Last year Toby solidified its critical standing when one of its authors, Tamar Yellin, was honored as an emerging writer for The Genizah at the House of Shepher with the Jewish Book Council's $100,000 Sami Rohr Prize for Jewish Literature. Toby's translated title, Our Holocaust, by Amir Gutfreund, got runner-up.
While local writers may see Toby as a local address appreciative of the Anglo-Israeli experience, Miller doesn't give preference to "ex-pats."
The focus is on quality writing, Miller says. "I'm not going to take a local American ex-pat over Agnon."
An exception was New York native Sherri Mandell's The Blessing of a Broken Heart, a personal, lyrical account of the Mandell family's struggle to regain their lives in the aftermath of their 13-year-old son's murder during the intifada.
"We were very proud to publish it, but I couldn't believe that major houses in NY didn't want to touch it," says Miller.
He attributes the book's rejection by publishing houses in the US to discomfort they may have had with the material.
The book sold thousands of copies abroad and received the National Jewish Book Award by the Jewish Book Council. An American adaption of the book into a play debuted at the San Diego Repertory Theater on January 4.
But such success is rare. It takes a special book to cross into the American market, says Jerusalem-based literary agent Sharon Friedman.
ONE SUCH "special book" was Indian-Israeli author Sophie Judah's Dropped From Heaven, which caught the attention and favor of Friedman, who sold the book to Random House.
The collection of short stories, which Judah completed as part of the Shaindy Rudoff MA program, brings to life the under- explored Bene Israel Jewish community of India. "There was something universal about the stories. You don't have to be Indian or Jewish to appreciate or enjoy them," says Friedman.
Judah didn't write the collection with the explicit aim of publishing. "I didn't think it was a dream that was feasible," says Judah.
"When you have the ambition, the hope, it's easy to despair," Judah jokes. "When you don't have the ambition, hope, you don't despair."
Having completed a book tour in the US last November, Judah describes her audience as largely Jewish American, with a small non- Jewish Indian following.
"An Indian bought 30 copies because he was meeting Jews the next day on business," recalls Judah. "It was really nice. Suddenly I was representing two countries."
The challenge has been in getting the book translated into Hebrew, says Judah. "They [Hebrew-language publishers] don't want to translate books that aren't a best-seller."
Some Jerusalem-based authors who have made a successful crossover include Naomi Ragen, Michael Oren and Friedman's client Dr. Aviva Zornberg.
"Most publishers don't buy just a book, they buy a name or name brand, the author they feel can get on talk shows or have a following or platform," explains Friedman. "Non-fiction is very platform-oriented."
Jerusalem-based author Allen Hoffman, who made aliya from St. Louis 32 years ago, says it's difficult for any fiction writer to get published, regardless of where they are based.
"I don't want to discourage anyone; I don't think it's easy for anyone really [to publish]," says Hoffman, who is writer-in- residence of the Shaindy Rudoff MA program and has worked with many Israel-based fiction writers and poets over the years. "I'm certain that some of our students who have already finished will go on to publish successfully, but it's not easy. Very often good writers receive rejection before they publish successfully. That's not uncommon at all."
Julie Baretz, a graduate of the first class of the Shaindy Rudoff MA program, wrote as her MA thesis a novel set during the intifada about a woman with fertility problems who turns to a Palestinian man to act as a surrogate father.
Although she received encouraging feedback from her professors, she became disillusioned with the publishing process. "The process of writing the novel was a piece of cake compared to trying to find an agent and publisher. I've put it aside for now," she says.
Some local writers have decided that the best way to publish is to do it themselves. Ibis Editions, a non-profit organization and small press based in Musrara, was founded in 1998 by three American-Israelis - Peter Cole, his wife Adina Hoffman and Gabriel Levin - to publish Levant-related literature. The trio run the press as volunteers, from the clerical work to the translation to the actual publishing.
"We felt that there was a whole category of literature from this part of the world that no one else was publishing - whether for economic or political reasons, or because of literary sensibility - and we had a few specific projects on hand that we wanted to turn into books. It snowballed fairly rapidly after that," explain Hoffman and Cole over email.
Ibis translates into English poetry and belletristic prose from languages of the region such as Hebrew, Arabic, French, Greek, German and Ladino. Part of their artistic vision is to de-ghettoize literary works, highlighting the cross-fertizilization between the languages, religions and cultures that have thrived and interacted on Levant-soil. Several Ibis works have received critical recognition and in 2007 Cole was awarded the 2007 MacArthur Foundation Fellowship, or "genius award," for poetry.
Jerusalem, as the crossroads of the civilizations in the Middle East, has been central to their work. "Many of our books grow out of conversations we've had with people here, whether writers who live here or writers or translators or scholars who pass through. And of course the actual subject of most of our books is this place - broadly defined - itself."
These include A Levant Journal by the Greek poet and Nobel Prize laureate George Seferis, and Saraya, The Ogre's Daughter, the final novel by the late Palestinian novelist (and Knesset member) Emile Habiby.
Most of Ibis's readers are located in the US and Europe. "Because we publish in English, and because, unfortunately, the state of local book distribution and local bookstores is so sorry, our audience here is more limited. This is too bad, of course, since what we're doing concerns this place deeply," say Hoffman and Cole.
Even though Jerusalem boasts Israel's largest English-speaking population, the local bookshelves rarely stock a rich variety of English titles.
The journal Arc 19, for example, is promoted and distributed through grassroots channels in Israel, like the event at the Yedidya Synagogue.
"It's almost impossible to sell it [Arc 19] in shops here," says Beck. "When I went to two or three major chains, they said 'We can't take it on. If we put Arc in the window, then anyone producing English journals will ask for the same privilege.' It becomes almost impossible to sell it the usual way. That's why we have more than one launch party."
(BOX) The write stuff
A best-seller in Israel is a book that sells over 5,000 copies, says Neta Goren, the director of the newly established Israel branch of the Jewish Book Council (JBC).
For major American publishers, this number constitutes only the first run of a book.
This means Israeli authors usually need to expand abroad to generate more sales, but reaching a foreign market, particularly an American one, is not always easy.
"Israeli writers in translation have a far greater audience in Germany, Italy and France than they would in America," explains Goren.
The Jewish Book Council was founded in 1940 to promote books of Jewish interest. Its Israel office hopes to act as a bridge between Israeli authors and the American market.
"It's very frustrating for Israelis because America has a large Jewish population and there ought to be a bridge. Culturally, generally Anglos tend to not buy translations from any place," adds Goren.
Matthew Miller, publisher of Toby Press, has noticed a similar American resistance to Israeli books, even among American Jews who would seem a natural audience for Jewish Israeli writers.
"What Israelis fail to realize is that six million American Jews have their own culture, their own questions, their own identity," explains Miller. "So what is a concern to an American may not be addressed by Israelis. For example, assimilation.
All those books by Phillip Roth or books about intermarriage, that doesn't exist in the Israeli scene."
Miller also likens the "angst" of contemporary Israeli writers to German angst rather than American angst.
"I think most books that are written here have a different mentality. It's a different culture, so a lot of books that are wonderful don't necessarily resonate with American readers," adds Jerusalem-based literary agent Sharon Friedman.
One key to unlocking American doors, says Goren, is quality translation. The Jewish Book Council is in the process of establishing an award for translations to encourage the art of translation and provide translators, often an underappreciated field, with financial incentives. "Without translation we have nothing," she says.
Usually Israeli publishers don't own translation rights, so many Israeli authors turn to the Institute for the Translation of Hebrew Literature, a government body that acts like a national agent for Israeli authors seeking to publish abroad.
Others vie for representation by the Deborah Harris Agency, a Jerusalem-based literary agency that represents some of Israel's leading talent, including Meir Shalev, David Grossman and most recently Ron Leshem, whose English translation of Im Yesh Gan Eden (Beaufort) by Jerusalem writer Evan Fallenberg has received a warm welcome in the US.
Writing via email from New York, Deborah Harris says there is an increased openness to Israeli writers, particularly young new voices like Leshem, Sayed Kashua, Yael Hedaya, Dorit Rabinayan, Amir Gutfreund and Etgar Keret.
Generally, however, she confirms America's xenophobia. Even though a successful crossover rests on superb content and marketing, "We need more serious support from the Ministry of Culture and the Foreign Ministry," she says. "We are working without support that would be considered natural in other countries."
Goren is hopeful. "At the annual Jewish Book Council Network Conference, people wanted to know what was going on in Israel. It's a connection they seek."
The Jerusalem Anglo community could be regarded as a testing ground for English translations of contemporary Israeli works, she adds. "This [local Anglo community] is our main target audience as well," explains Goren. "Part of my promotion is through that vehicle. I will hold readings and events for that audience. They live in Jerusalem but go back and forth to the US all the time.
"We have a buying potential here in Jerusalem that you don't have in Tel Aviv," she adds. "Still, it's hard to get English books in Israel."
Click here for original
Local writers of Jewish non-fiction need look no further than their hometown to publish their books.
On a recent cool Thursday night in Baka, some 100 people gathered at Yedidya Synagogue to celebrate the launch of Arc 19, the new edition of an annual journal of English short stories and poetry.
As journal contributors, backdropped by photographs and etchings by local artists, took turns reading aloud their pieces to a captive Anglo crowd, the synagogue transformed into a literary salon.
Arc 19 is one of the few established outlets for English-language writers to get their poetry and short stories published and distributed locally. It was started in 1982 by the Israeli Association of Writers in English with a rotating editorship as part of the association's goal to promote English writing in Israel.
"Loads of Anglo-Saxons who write come to Jerusalem. There are three or four ongoing groups where people meet on a weekly or bi-weekly basis to work on writing or to develop writing," says Judy Labensohn, the coordinator for Bar-Ilan University's Shaindy Rudoff Graduate Program in Creative Writing, which was launched in 2002 to nurture Jewish writers.
"Jews read and write. We're the 'people of the book.' Writing is one way of dealing with all the excitement of being in Jerusalem - the emotions, the associations," she adds.
For most of the writers at the launch party, however, Jerusalem is not the place to look for a broad platform to publish their original fiction.
"I think most people writing fiction in English probably try to get published abroad. I certainly do," says Mordechai Beck, this year's co-editor of Arc 19 with Jeffrey Green.
Authors writing non-fiction about Torah, Judaism and Jewish spirituality, on the other hand, can easily find local outlets for publication. Jerusalem is home to close to a dozen publishers of English-language books specializing in Jewish interest non- fiction, including Feldheim, Gefen, Mazo, Simcha and Urim. Educational institutes, such as the Shalem Center, Yad Vashem and Hebrew University, also operate presses that publish English books and journals in scholarly fields.
The size of Jerusalem's English publishing industry owes its strength to the influx of olim from English- speaking countries.
"There is a whole creative world of English writing in terms of editing and publishing in a city that is really a foreign country," says Stuart Schnee, a Jerusalem-based book publicist and book "shepherd" who guides aspiring authors through the writing and publishing process. "There is always a new title coming out of Jerusalem."
Still, "I see less fiction than I do of other things," he adds. "It doesn't mean there aren't 25 writers now pumping out great fiction. It could be that in Jerusalem there is so much going on that inspires non-fiction - politics, news, etc."
The proliferation of Jewish publishers in the capital of the Jewish world may have some sociological roots.
Jews in general are known to read more than other cultures, explains Hebrew Union College Prof. Steven M. Cohen, who specializes in Jewish social policy. Cohen attributes this trend to Jewish communities' emphasis on education and their drive to advance culturally to overcome their sense of exclusion from the larger society.
Religious Jews in particular are known bibliophiles, he adds. "Just as religious Christians are noted for their high rates of book-buying, so too do religious Jews have a special added interest in reading, be it explicitly for religious-oriented learning or as a leisure activity on Shabbat or holidays."
Publishers of Jewish or religious-oriented non-fiction generally have to look no further than Israel's borders to find manuscripts.
"In Israel there are more authors of the kinds of books I can publish in English than in America," says Yaakov Feldheim, semi-retired president of Feldheim Publishers, which annually publishes some 30 "true Torah" English titles about Jewish law, Orthodox Jewish life and biblical commentaries.
"Anybody who's religious, who really wants the utmost religious experience, will come to Israel sooner or later," says Feldheim. "I'm at the hub of the renaissance of Judaism in the world."
Feldheim's father founded the publishing house in New York in 1940 to meet a demand for English books catered to an Orthodox audience. He created the Jerusalem branch in 1967, a few years after making aliya.
Today Feldheim Publishers exports about $5 million worth of books a year and last year opened three retail bookstores in Jerusalem, one in Bnei Brak and one in Beit Shemesh to cater to the local English-speaking market.
Among Feldheim's authors are American-born Rabbi Baruch Finkelstein and his wife Michal, co-authors of B'sha'ah Tova: The Jewish Woman's Guide to Pregnancy and Childbirth and The Third Key: The Jewish Couple's Guide to Fertility.
Currently residents of Beit El, they sought out publishers in the US, but decided to go with Feldheim "because they have a good name and it was convenient that we're here. We could work with them easier," says Baruch Finkelstein.
The immediate accessibility to the Hebrew-speaking religious market has been another advantage of publishing in the Jewish homeland, with B'Sha'ah Tova's Hebrew version enjoying 40 percent more in sales than the original English.
"ORIGINALLY, 95 percent of our authors came from Israel," says Simcha Publishing director Yaacov Peterseil. "In the last two years we decided to branch out and we put ads in the US. Now we're inundated."
As more authors are being pooled abroad, more readers of Jewish titles in English are emerging in Israel. "Until around 2004, we kept only between 5-7 percent of the books we printed here in Israel. Ninety percent went to the States mostly," continues Peterseil. "Now things have changed. We're printing larger quantities in the first print run, but more importantly we keep 20% to 30% of print runs because of the growth of the English-language book market in Israel."
According to Ilan Greenfield of Gefen Publishing House, 5,000 sales for a Jewish book is a success. Many of his top sellers are considered "sleepers," trend-defying books that sell consistently over the course of several years.
Founded in 1981, Gefen publishes about 30 English titles a year, covering Judaism, Zionism, and Israel-related subjects for Jews across the religious spectrum, as well as for Christian Zionists.
"We believe the Christian market is a very large market for books about Israel, the Holy Land and Judaism as well," says Greenfield.
Still, Gefen rarely ventures into fiction. "It's a different ball game," explains Greenfield. "There's much greater competition in the American market. The Jewish market is not big enough for that. We publish a very wide variety of books on the one hand, but sometimes you have to limit yourself and not do certain things. We think there are other publishers that do that better."
One such example, says Greenfield, is Toby Press, which was founded in 1999 by New York immigrant Matthew Miller.
Although the Toby editorial staff is based in Jerusalem, Toby brands itself as an independent American publisher of literary fiction, with another office in Connecticut and 20 salespeople stationed across North America, where the books are printed and bound. North America and England account for about 90% of its sales.
Also, Toby does not cast itself as a Jewish publisher, even though a third of its authors are Jewish (including translated authors), such as contemporary writers Haim Sabato and Emuna Elon and veteran Israeli writers S.Y. Agnon and Chaim Nachman Bialik.
"I think if you look at any publisher of fiction in America, it's about a quarter Jewish anyway," says Miller.
Toby Press puts out three catalogues, one for a full range of English titles, one for titles of Jewish interest and one for Hebrew titles.
Topping its recent general fiction list are Tom Coffey's Blood Alley, Christiana McKenna's The Misremembered Man and Donald Harrington's Father Along.
Last year Toby solidified its critical standing when one of its authors, Tamar Yellin, was honored as an emerging writer for The Genizah at the House of Shepher with the Jewish Book Council's $100,000 Sami Rohr Prize for Jewish Literature. Toby's translated title, Our Holocaust, by Amir Gutfreund, got runner-up.
While local writers may see Toby as a local address appreciative of the Anglo-Israeli experience, Miller doesn't give preference to "ex-pats."
The focus is on quality writing, Miller says. "I'm not going to take a local American ex-pat over Agnon."
An exception was New York native Sherri Mandell's The Blessing of a Broken Heart, a personal, lyrical account of the Mandell family's struggle to regain their lives in the aftermath of their 13-year-old son's murder during the intifada.
"We were very proud to publish it, but I couldn't believe that major houses in NY didn't want to touch it," says Miller.
He attributes the book's rejection by publishing houses in the US to discomfort they may have had with the material.
The book sold thousands of copies abroad and received the National Jewish Book Award by the Jewish Book Council. An American adaption of the book into a play debuted at the San Diego Repertory Theater on January 4.
But such success is rare. It takes a special book to cross into the American market, says Jerusalem-based literary agent Sharon Friedman.
ONE SUCH "special book" was Indian-Israeli author Sophie Judah's Dropped From Heaven, which caught the attention and favor of Friedman, who sold the book to Random House.
The collection of short stories, which Judah completed as part of the Shaindy Rudoff MA program, brings to life the under- explored Bene Israel Jewish community of India. "There was something universal about the stories. You don't have to be Indian or Jewish to appreciate or enjoy them," says Friedman.
Judah didn't write the collection with the explicit aim of publishing. "I didn't think it was a dream that was feasible," says Judah.
"When you have the ambition, the hope, it's easy to despair," Judah jokes. "When you don't have the ambition, hope, you don't despair."
Having completed a book tour in the US last November, Judah describes her audience as largely Jewish American, with a small non- Jewish Indian following.
"An Indian bought 30 copies because he was meeting Jews the next day on business," recalls Judah. "It was really nice. Suddenly I was representing two countries."
The challenge has been in getting the book translated into Hebrew, says Judah. "They [Hebrew-language publishers] don't want to translate books that aren't a best-seller."
Some Jerusalem-based authors who have made a successful crossover include Naomi Ragen, Michael Oren and Friedman's client Dr. Aviva Zornberg.
"Most publishers don't buy just a book, they buy a name or name brand, the author they feel can get on talk shows or have a following or platform," explains Friedman. "Non-fiction is very platform-oriented."
Jerusalem-based author Allen Hoffman, who made aliya from St. Louis 32 years ago, says it's difficult for any fiction writer to get published, regardless of where they are based.
"I don't want to discourage anyone; I don't think it's easy for anyone really [to publish]," says Hoffman, who is writer-in- residence of the Shaindy Rudoff MA program and has worked with many Israel-based fiction writers and poets over the years. "I'm certain that some of our students who have already finished will go on to publish successfully, but it's not easy. Very often good writers receive rejection before they publish successfully. That's not uncommon at all."
Julie Baretz, a graduate of the first class of the Shaindy Rudoff MA program, wrote as her MA thesis a novel set during the intifada about a woman with fertility problems who turns to a Palestinian man to act as a surrogate father.
Although she received encouraging feedback from her professors, she became disillusioned with the publishing process. "The process of writing the novel was a piece of cake compared to trying to find an agent and publisher. I've put it aside for now," she says.
Some local writers have decided that the best way to publish is to do it themselves. Ibis Editions, a non-profit organization and small press based in Musrara, was founded in 1998 by three American-Israelis - Peter Cole, his wife Adina Hoffman and Gabriel Levin - to publish Levant-related literature. The trio run the press as volunteers, from the clerical work to the translation to the actual publishing.
"We felt that there was a whole category of literature from this part of the world that no one else was publishing - whether for economic or political reasons, or because of literary sensibility - and we had a few specific projects on hand that we wanted to turn into books. It snowballed fairly rapidly after that," explain Hoffman and Cole over email.
Ibis translates into English poetry and belletristic prose from languages of the region such as Hebrew, Arabic, French, Greek, German and Ladino. Part of their artistic vision is to de-ghettoize literary works, highlighting the cross-fertizilization between the languages, religions and cultures that have thrived and interacted on Levant-soil. Several Ibis works have received critical recognition and in 2007 Cole was awarded the 2007 MacArthur Foundation Fellowship, or "genius award," for poetry.
Jerusalem, as the crossroads of the civilizations in the Middle East, has been central to their work. "Many of our books grow out of conversations we've had with people here, whether writers who live here or writers or translators or scholars who pass through. And of course the actual subject of most of our books is this place - broadly defined - itself."
These include A Levant Journal by the Greek poet and Nobel Prize laureate George Seferis, and Saraya, The Ogre's Daughter, the final novel by the late Palestinian novelist (and Knesset member) Emile Habiby.
Most of Ibis's readers are located in the US and Europe. "Because we publish in English, and because, unfortunately, the state of local book distribution and local bookstores is so sorry, our audience here is more limited. This is too bad, of course, since what we're doing concerns this place deeply," say Hoffman and Cole.
Even though Jerusalem boasts Israel's largest English-speaking population, the local bookshelves rarely stock a rich variety of English titles.
The journal Arc 19, for example, is promoted and distributed through grassroots channels in Israel, like the event at the Yedidya Synagogue.
"It's almost impossible to sell it [Arc 19] in shops here," says Beck. "When I went to two or three major chains, they said 'We can't take it on. If we put Arc in the window, then anyone producing English journals will ask for the same privilege.' It becomes almost impossible to sell it the usual way. That's why we have more than one launch party."
(BOX) The write stuff
A best-seller in Israel is a book that sells over 5,000 copies, says Neta Goren, the director of the newly established Israel branch of the Jewish Book Council (JBC).
For major American publishers, this number constitutes only the first run of a book.
This means Israeli authors usually need to expand abroad to generate more sales, but reaching a foreign market, particularly an American one, is not always easy.
"Israeli writers in translation have a far greater audience in Germany, Italy and France than they would in America," explains Goren.
The Jewish Book Council was founded in 1940 to promote books of Jewish interest. Its Israel office hopes to act as a bridge between Israeli authors and the American market.
"It's very frustrating for Israelis because America has a large Jewish population and there ought to be a bridge. Culturally, generally Anglos tend to not buy translations from any place," adds Goren.
Matthew Miller, publisher of Toby Press, has noticed a similar American resistance to Israeli books, even among American Jews who would seem a natural audience for Jewish Israeli writers.
"What Israelis fail to realize is that six million American Jews have their own culture, their own questions, their own identity," explains Miller. "So what is a concern to an American may not be addressed by Israelis. For example, assimilation.
All those books by Phillip Roth or books about intermarriage, that doesn't exist in the Israeli scene."
Miller also likens the "angst" of contemporary Israeli writers to German angst rather than American angst.
"I think most books that are written here have a different mentality. It's a different culture, so a lot of books that are wonderful don't necessarily resonate with American readers," adds Jerusalem-based literary agent Sharon Friedman.
One key to unlocking American doors, says Goren, is quality translation. The Jewish Book Council is in the process of establishing an award for translations to encourage the art of translation and provide translators, often an underappreciated field, with financial incentives. "Without translation we have nothing," she says.
Usually Israeli publishers don't own translation rights, so many Israeli authors turn to the Institute for the Translation of Hebrew Literature, a government body that acts like a national agent for Israeli authors seeking to publish abroad.
Others vie for representation by the Deborah Harris Agency, a Jerusalem-based literary agency that represents some of Israel's leading talent, including Meir Shalev, David Grossman and most recently Ron Leshem, whose English translation of Im Yesh Gan Eden (Beaufort) by Jerusalem writer Evan Fallenberg has received a warm welcome in the US.
Writing via email from New York, Deborah Harris says there is an increased openness to Israeli writers, particularly young new voices like Leshem, Sayed Kashua, Yael Hedaya, Dorit Rabinayan, Amir Gutfreund and Etgar Keret.
Generally, however, she confirms America's xenophobia. Even though a successful crossover rests on superb content and marketing, "We need more serious support from the Ministry of Culture and the Foreign Ministry," she says. "We are working without support that would be considered natural in other countries."
Goren is hopeful. "At the annual Jewish Book Council Network Conference, people wanted to know what was going on in Israel. It's a connection they seek."
The Jerusalem Anglo community could be regarded as a testing ground for English translations of contemporary Israeli works, she adds. "This [local Anglo community] is our main target audience as well," explains Goren. "Part of my promotion is through that vehicle. I will hold readings and events for that audience. They live in Jerusalem but go back and forth to the US all the time.
"We have a buying potential here in Jerusalem that you don't have in Tel Aviv," she adds. "Still, it's hard to get English books in Israel."
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Gofer in the Galilee (book review)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; January 3, 2008
Following the destruction of the second Temple by the Romans, Galilee was a haven for the Amoraic and Tannaitic sages, the authors of the Mishna and the Talmud. The rabbinic sages have long since left for the next world, but Amnon Gofer has established himself as a sage of multicultural tourism in northern Israel, and his recently published book Galilean Secrets (Sodot Glili'im, Am Oved 2007, NIS 129) can serve as a "mishna" for Israelis tourists, guiding the reader through northern towns in a simple, neat and well-organized manner.
Gofer, a resident of Kfar Havradim and former senior IDF officer, discovered his love for navigating the northern part of the country while working as a general manager of a radio station headquartered in a hotel up north. One day the director of the hotel requested, as a favor, that he take a group of Israelis on an informal tour through Galilee. It was near the mystical town of Peki'in that he saw his new calling. He quit his job two weeks later and dedicated himself full-time to discovering and sharing the secrets of the Galilee.
In Galilean Secrets he provides do-it-yourself trails for nine cities and towns: Safed, Gush Halav, Peki'in, Kfar Havradim, Tarshiha, Mi'ilya, Acre, Klil and Nazareth. As a self-made tour guide who discovered his secrets by venturing out on his own, he writes with mindfulness for newcomers.
Each chapter starts with a general description of the essence of the town followed by a "tour by numbers" map and key. He guides the reader step-by-step through the roads, alleys, markets and forests to the mainstream and more esoteric historical and religious landmarks, parks, eateries, craftsmen, artists, and even homes of longtime residents.
Through the body of each chapter, each spot on the trail is the subject of its own subheading. For some attractions, his elaborations are straightforward, providing only essential details; for others he provides folklore, legend, curious facts and even gossip. He has a good knack for honing in on the more interesting sites.
The synagogues and burial sites of the Jewish sages are among religious attractions covered in the book, and Gofer does an admirable job in balancing Druse, Muslim, Christian and Jewish points of interest, including mosques, churches, archeological digs, and even profiles of clergymen. His lively descriptions of the diverse residents dissipate any tension that might exist between the different religions represented in Galilee.
Gofer never leaves his readers hungry. At the end of each chapter he provides recommendations for family or home-based eateries, as well as the more commercial, flamboyant restaurants. He introduces us to bakers, soapmakers, winemakers, cheesemakers and olive oil makers of all kinds. In addition, he offers hotel, hostel and tzimmer options.
The book may be a challenging read for people with intermediate Hebrew reading skills, but is well worth the patience for those seriously interested in touring the north on their own. The Hebrew is elegant yet down-to earth and printed in a large font. Unfortunately the high-quality pictures - which complement the colorful descriptions throughout the book - lack captions, leaving the reader guessing at times.
Following the destruction of the second Temple by the Romans, Galilee was a haven for the Amoraic and Tannaitic sages, the authors of the Mishna and the Talmud. The rabbinic sages have long since left for the next world, but Amnon Gofer has established himself as a sage of multicultural tourism in northern Israel, and his recently published book Galilean Secrets (Sodot Glili'im, Am Oved 2007, NIS 129) can serve as a "mishna" for Israelis tourists, guiding the reader through northern towns in a simple, neat and well-organized manner.
Gofer, a resident of Kfar Havradim and former senior IDF officer, discovered his love for navigating the northern part of the country while working as a general manager of a radio station headquartered in a hotel up north. One day the director of the hotel requested, as a favor, that he take a group of Israelis on an informal tour through Galilee. It was near the mystical town of Peki'in that he saw his new calling. He quit his job two weeks later and dedicated himself full-time to discovering and sharing the secrets of the Galilee.
In Galilean Secrets he provides do-it-yourself trails for nine cities and towns: Safed, Gush Halav, Peki'in, Kfar Havradim, Tarshiha, Mi'ilya, Acre, Klil and Nazareth. As a self-made tour guide who discovered his secrets by venturing out on his own, he writes with mindfulness for newcomers.
Each chapter starts with a general description of the essence of the town followed by a "tour by numbers" map and key. He guides the reader step-by-step through the roads, alleys, markets and forests to the mainstream and more esoteric historical and religious landmarks, parks, eateries, craftsmen, artists, and even homes of longtime residents.
Through the body of each chapter, each spot on the trail is the subject of its own subheading. For some attractions, his elaborations are straightforward, providing only essential details; for others he provides folklore, legend, curious facts and even gossip. He has a good knack for honing in on the more interesting sites.
The synagogues and burial sites of the Jewish sages are among religious attractions covered in the book, and Gofer does an admirable job in balancing Druse, Muslim, Christian and Jewish points of interest, including mosques, churches, archeological digs, and even profiles of clergymen. His lively descriptions of the diverse residents dissipate any tension that might exist between the different religions represented in Galilee.
Gofer never leaves his readers hungry. At the end of each chapter he provides recommendations for family or home-based eateries, as well as the more commercial, flamboyant restaurants. He introduces us to bakers, soapmakers, winemakers, cheesemakers and olive oil makers of all kinds. In addition, he offers hotel, hostel and tzimmer options.
The book may be a challenging read for people with intermediate Hebrew reading skills, but is well worth the patience for those seriously interested in touring the north on their own. The Hebrew is elegant yet down-to earth and printed in a large font. Unfortunately the high-quality pictures - which complement the colorful descriptions throughout the book - lack captions, leaving the reader guessing at times.
Adventures of Adelina (restaurant review)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; January 3, 2008
Owners of guest houses in the Western Galilee often dispatch their guests to Adelina for dinner, and with good reason. Adelina is arguably one of the best restaurants in the region.
Converted from the former cultural clubhouse of the kibbutz, Adelina is nestled in a quiet corner overlooking the beach and the kibbutz soccer field. Adelina maintained the original, naturally attractive stone design of the clubhouse, but the handsomely set tables and fine cutlery make one feel as if it were designed as a restaurant from the outset.
Adelina is named after Adelina Goldfeld, the founding chef who immigrated from Argentia in 1973. A kibbutz resident since 1980, Goldfeld studied at the prestigious Cordon Bleu in France and under renowned Spanish chef Feran Adria. The menu fuses Catalonian and Galilean cuisine with successful results.
The theme of the food was perfectly expressed in the sangria fruit cocktail which kicked off my meal: sensual, colorful, exotic and tasty. Adelina's next Spanish offering was its signature "tapas journey" (NIS 115 for two), a cohesive platter of tapas, which in Spain refers to small, individual dishes usually served before a meal or with a drink. Usually I refrain from ordering tapas because I feel teased by the small helpings, but as soon as the eight tapas were spread out on the table, I knew I was in for a culinary ride. First I had to overcome my fear of ruining the resplendent display; it looked like a work of art.
The "tapas journey" artfully balanced meat, seafood, vegetables and cheeses. The beef carpaccio gave me an indication of the tapas's high standards. The balsamic glaze and parmesan slices opened the fresh flavor and great texture of the deep-red beef. The expertly peeled grilled pepper with feta and minced calamari olives, while simple, was finely prepared. The Druse-inspired beef pastry, crispy dough wrapped around spicy, moist ground beef, was a triumph of taste and texture.
Two dishes should have been marked as aphrodisiacs. The bittersweet chocolate truffles filled with luscious pate and the aubergine cream so smooth it could have passed for a buttery dessert. The only ill-fated dish was the salty anchovy, which I quickly washed down with some sangria.
After this, who has room for another appetizer? But I took a bite out of the creative, crisp kadaif shrimp, a jumbo shrimp wrapped in this Arabic-style pastry dough.
One hundred percent mango sorbet smoothly cleared my palate for the entree.
While there was a respectable selection of gourmet entrees, I opted for a classic dish, beef fillet in wine (NIS 121). Sometimes a restaurant's treatment of a classic dish is the best indication of its culinary prowess. At Adelina, this is certainly true. The beef was perfectly cooked "medium," its grill marks visible, and its gentle red wine sauce adding depth while preserving the superb taste of the beef. The creamy, buttery potato mash and broccoli sides were deliciously yet simply seasoned, topped with grilled tomatoes and fennel.
For dessert, the server laid out sleeker cutlery to mark a shift in gears. I opted for the tapas dessert (NIS 52), a platter of four mini-desserts including a mango lemon tart, homemade pistachio ice cream, knaffe fingers and lemon cheesecake. While each tasted good on its own, after such a glorious journey, I think one simple dessert would have been a more settling landing.
Adelina, Kibbutz Kabri;
(04) 952-3707. Not kosher.
Owners of guest houses in the Western Galilee often dispatch their guests to Adelina for dinner, and with good reason. Adelina is arguably one of the best restaurants in the region.
Converted from the former cultural clubhouse of the kibbutz, Adelina is nestled in a quiet corner overlooking the beach and the kibbutz soccer field. Adelina maintained the original, naturally attractive stone design of the clubhouse, but the handsomely set tables and fine cutlery make one feel as if it were designed as a restaurant from the outset.
Adelina is named after Adelina Goldfeld, the founding chef who immigrated from Argentia in 1973. A kibbutz resident since 1980, Goldfeld studied at the prestigious Cordon Bleu in France and under renowned Spanish chef Feran Adria. The menu fuses Catalonian and Galilean cuisine with successful results.
The theme of the food was perfectly expressed in the sangria fruit cocktail which kicked off my meal: sensual, colorful, exotic and tasty. Adelina's next Spanish offering was its signature "tapas journey" (NIS 115 for two), a cohesive platter of tapas, which in Spain refers to small, individual dishes usually served before a meal or with a drink. Usually I refrain from ordering tapas because I feel teased by the small helpings, but as soon as the eight tapas were spread out on the table, I knew I was in for a culinary ride. First I had to overcome my fear of ruining the resplendent display; it looked like a work of art.
The "tapas journey" artfully balanced meat, seafood, vegetables and cheeses. The beef carpaccio gave me an indication of the tapas's high standards. The balsamic glaze and parmesan slices opened the fresh flavor and great texture of the deep-red beef. The expertly peeled grilled pepper with feta and minced calamari olives, while simple, was finely prepared. The Druse-inspired beef pastry, crispy dough wrapped around spicy, moist ground beef, was a triumph of taste and texture.
Two dishes should have been marked as aphrodisiacs. The bittersweet chocolate truffles filled with luscious pate and the aubergine cream so smooth it could have passed for a buttery dessert. The only ill-fated dish was the salty anchovy, which I quickly washed down with some sangria.
After this, who has room for another appetizer? But I took a bite out of the creative, crisp kadaif shrimp, a jumbo shrimp wrapped in this Arabic-style pastry dough.
One hundred percent mango sorbet smoothly cleared my palate for the entree.
While there was a respectable selection of gourmet entrees, I opted for a classic dish, beef fillet in wine (NIS 121). Sometimes a restaurant's treatment of a classic dish is the best indication of its culinary prowess. At Adelina, this is certainly true. The beef was perfectly cooked "medium," its grill marks visible, and its gentle red wine sauce adding depth while preserving the superb taste of the beef. The creamy, buttery potato mash and broccoli sides were deliciously yet simply seasoned, topped with grilled tomatoes and fennel.
For dessert, the server laid out sleeker cutlery to mark a shift in gears. I opted for the tapas dessert (NIS 52), a platter of four mini-desserts including a mango lemon tart, homemade pistachio ice cream, knaffe fingers and lemon cheesecake. While each tasted good on its own, after such a glorious journey, I think one simple dessert would have been a more settling landing.
Adelina, Kibbutz Kabri;
(04) 952-3707. Not kosher.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Declining charm (restaurant review)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; December 20, 2007
Aluma is located on a small street in Tarshiha, an Arab town on the outskirts of Kfar Havradim. For several years it has has been considered one of the most prestigious bistros in the Western Galilee, hosting some of the best chefs in Israel. However, during my recent trip to Western Galilee, my hosts at the guest houses did not recommend Aluma, as an option for dinner. I soon figured out why.
The interior of Aluma promised a pleasant dining experience. Its simple country French design was warm and inviting, but in no way ostentatious.
The food, however, proved adequate at best, certainly not as outstanding as I had expected - and hoped - it would be.
The meal was introduced with fresh homebaked bread served with a tasty olive spread, a punchy tomato spread (use sparingly!), and a fresh lentil dip. It took a downward turn with the "appetizer samples" (served only with the business lunch). The roasted eggplant, served on a bed of white beans, was much too bland. The veal carpaccio arrived buried under balsamic vinegar and arugula, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was an attempt to hide the rather oddly colored cuts of veal. The liver pate, served cold with grape jam and pistachio nuts, lay on a bed of hard shmaltz (chicken fat). The waiter assured me that the liver was supposed to be served like that, but the fat certainly clogged my enjoyment of the otherwise tasty pate. The perfectly crisp crab cakes, while flavored well, felt dry.
The transitional sorbet was not an effective amuse bouche; it was more like slush.
The meal segued into the rather pedestrian poulet stuffed with herbs, pistachio, raisins and dried tomatoes (NIS 78). The stuffing of the rather stingy portion had the aroma of packaged seasoning. But the vegetable side of steamed broccoli, carrots, string beans and kohlrabi clinched my conclusion that Aluma was far from living up to its former glorious reputation. The kohlrabi tasted rotten, and when I asked the server about it, he replied that kohlrabi simply tastes sour when cooked and that other customers have asked the same question. If that's the case, why keep serving it?
Hoping dessert would redeem the meal, I asked the waiter (who was very friendly but not too helpful in providing menu guidance) what he recommended.
"They're all good," he replied.
I was hoping for a solid recommendation, because at this point I needed a sure thing. The "dessert tasters" (NIS 38) came with samples of Galilean delights: malabi, pistachio ice cream and candied squash. They were quite good, but not good enough to save the overall lackluster meal.
After probing a little further, I discovered that Aluma has recently undergone several sous-chef turnovers in the kitchen that have led to inconsistency. I certainly caught Aluma on a bad day.
Tarshiha-Kfar Havradim road; tel: (04) 957-4477; www.aluma.co.il Not kosher.
Aluma is located on a small street in Tarshiha, an Arab town on the outskirts of Kfar Havradim. For several years it has has been considered one of the most prestigious bistros in the Western Galilee, hosting some of the best chefs in Israel. However, during my recent trip to Western Galilee, my hosts at the guest houses did not recommend Aluma, as an option for dinner. I soon figured out why.
The interior of Aluma promised a pleasant dining experience. Its simple country French design was warm and inviting, but in no way ostentatious.
The food, however, proved adequate at best, certainly not as outstanding as I had expected - and hoped - it would be.
The meal was introduced with fresh homebaked bread served with a tasty olive spread, a punchy tomato spread (use sparingly!), and a fresh lentil dip. It took a downward turn with the "appetizer samples" (served only with the business lunch). The roasted eggplant, served on a bed of white beans, was much too bland. The veal carpaccio arrived buried under balsamic vinegar and arugula, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was an attempt to hide the rather oddly colored cuts of veal. The liver pate, served cold with grape jam and pistachio nuts, lay on a bed of hard shmaltz (chicken fat). The waiter assured me that the liver was supposed to be served like that, but the fat certainly clogged my enjoyment of the otherwise tasty pate. The perfectly crisp crab cakes, while flavored well, felt dry.
The transitional sorbet was not an effective amuse bouche; it was more like slush.
The meal segued into the rather pedestrian poulet stuffed with herbs, pistachio, raisins and dried tomatoes (NIS 78). The stuffing of the rather stingy portion had the aroma of packaged seasoning. But the vegetable side of steamed broccoli, carrots, string beans and kohlrabi clinched my conclusion that Aluma was far from living up to its former glorious reputation. The kohlrabi tasted rotten, and when I asked the server about it, he replied that kohlrabi simply tastes sour when cooked and that other customers have asked the same question. If that's the case, why keep serving it?
Hoping dessert would redeem the meal, I asked the waiter (who was very friendly but not too helpful in providing menu guidance) what he recommended.
"They're all good," he replied.
I was hoping for a solid recommendation, because at this point I needed a sure thing. The "dessert tasters" (NIS 38) came with samples of Galilean delights: malabi, pistachio ice cream and candied squash. They were quite good, but not good enough to save the overall lackluster meal.
After probing a little further, I discovered that Aluma has recently undergone several sous-chef turnovers in the kitchen that have led to inconsistency. I certainly caught Aluma on a bad day.
Tarshiha-Kfar Havradim road; tel: (04) 957-4477; www.aluma.co.il Not kosher.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Klil: off the beaten path
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; December 13, 2007
Click here for original
Nestled in the green hills by Nahariya and fueled almost exclusively by natural energy sources, Klil takes organic, creative living to a different dimension
You'll probably need a GPS to get you to the entrance of Klil, but be warned: once you enter, it stops working. Klil consists of dirt roads carved through shrubby hills leading to custom-made one and two-story homes.
Klil doesn't look like it belongs in the tiny state of Israel. Residents' gardens consist of acres of land filled with organic herbs, orchards and olive trees. Colorful signs lead the driver to Klil's attractions, among them a goat cheese shop, a bakery and a few cafes, a soap and honey maker, and jewelry, glassworks and ceramic shops. Just watch out for the wild boars (don't worry, they don't attack humans, only agriculture); I almost ran over a pack late at night on the dirt road.
Klil, located 14km east of Nahariya was built as an ecological settlement in 1978. It started out with seven seed families and grew to accommodate some 100 families today. Dr. Irit Schreier, the head of the Klil community council, explained the principles behind the community in the wilderness.
'We call it an agro-ecological model of settlement that combines three elements: First is organic agriculture - it's forbidden to grow non-organic agriculture. The second is sustainable orchards - growing trees with simple methods that maintain ecological balance. The third is developing the wild greenery of the region.'
The residents try to use only natural sources of energy. Every home has solar electricity panels, but residents soon found that solar panels are not always enough, so they are backed up by generators.
There is a sense of refined beauty in Klil and it is a unique and quirky alternative to the more predictable resorts in the Golan and along the Kinneret. The residents are hospitable, and several Klil families have built tzimmers on their land to host out-of-towners. Here are some highlights, but don't worry about the GPS: part of the fun is getting lost and exploring on your own.
FOOD
Brunch at Smadar BeClil comes recommended if you're looking for delicious vegetarian food and friendly hospitality. Smadar and Yossi Yardeni, among Klil's first residents, converted the family's first home into a restaurant furnished with handcrafted wooden furniture both indoors and out. While cutting up organic vegetables from the kitchen, Yardeni explained the reason for her move from Jerusalem, where she was a student at the Bezalel School of Art.
'We decided our future needed more space; we wanted land,' says Yardeni. 'We loved the virgin nature of Klil; you can preserve it.' To realize the Klil dream, they bought land from Druse living in Galilee and started out in a tent: 'We were very self-sufficient; we grew vegetables, herded goats.'
They closed down their own organic goat-cheese dairy about six years ago, and Yardeni, now 50-years-old, considers managing her restaurant and two tzimmers as her form of retirement in comparison. The love she puts into her work is evident in the brunch, consisting of fluffy herb omelets, a plate of delicious goat cheese (including some from Klil's own cheesemaker), a platter of vegetables topped with Yardeni's own olive oil and fresh mint lemonade. (Don't miss her homemade guava jam.) For lunch and dinner she offers salads, sandwiches and homemade pastas.
Further along the rocky road is Cafe B'Clil, a well-kept camping ground with its own cafe for those who don't need the comforts - and expense - of a tzimmer. Camping tents go for NIS 80 per person (NIS 60 for children) and they come with mattresses only. The founder is Tamar Schoer, a former art teacher and veteran resident of Klil.
I visited the shanty cafe as the cooks were preparing for the Thursday night crowd. Open to the public only on weekends, the cafe is reminiscent of the cushioned-lined restaurant huts in Sinai, minus the desert, water and Beduin. The conditions may be simple, but the olive trees, avocado trees, white tents, and lots of green that surrounds Cafe B'Clil make this place exceptional.
Smadar BeClil: 04-956-1678; http://www.ohalimretreats.com/cafe_clil.htm
Cafe B'Clil: (04) 996-9432; 052-326-1898
CRAFTS
Craftsman and artists have made Klil their home for the inspiration and solitude the surroundings provide. For ceramist Yael Shemer, the electricity shortage has actually sparked a new way of working.
Moving to Klil ten years ago has forced Shemer to fire up her clay using a method she never thought she would implement when she learned ceramics as a Bezalel student: gas ovens. Electric solar panels were simply not strong enough for her to power the more widely used electric oven. Shemer has found that she prefers this method. The oxidation of the gas oven renders unpredictable, unique color streaks in her ceramic jugs, plates and mugs.
Inside her garage-like studio, her shelves are filled with dozens of literally half-baked works. As a result of the energy shortage at Klil, Shemer fires the oven only about three times a month, and the ceramics require several rounds in the oven.
Luckily for newer Klil resident Reut Keret, electricity isn't required for her work. She sells her own handcrafted jewelry from a little corner in the small house she shares with her husband. She named her small boutique 'Sundri', which means 'pretty woman' in Hindi since her jewelry is made using gemstones imported from India. She crafts jewelry using a method that requires minimal tools - and no electricity outlets. While her selection of jewelry is rather small, she sells striking gems that follow the length of the ear lobe.
Yael Shemer: (04) 980-4571; Sundri: 050-634-3114
ENTERTAINMENT
Ada Moril of Diane and Ada, a folk music duo popular on the folk and world-music circuit, has made her home in Klil for the past 30 years ago. When I stopped by her 'Yellow House,' as it is officially called, she and her family were in the middle of separating olives from the branches to make their own olive oil.
Sitting under an ancient olive tree, the Canadian-Israeli explained in native English how she moved to Klil to find a quiet place in nature focused on ecological living. 'Already in Canada I knew I wanted to live in the country, in the hills overlooking the sea.' She has fulfilled her dream: It was a clear day and the coast of Nahariya shone cobalt blue.
In her living room Moril hosts her own concerts as well as those of other folk acts. From her home she also leads groups on herb trails, explaining the culinary and medicinal properties of herbs that grow wild in the Klil hills.
www.diane-ada.com; www.clil.net/ada Tel: 04-996-9540
A BOON IN THE BOONDOCKS
If Klil feels like it's located at the end of the earth, then B'vadi Etzel Ayali's is at the farthest end. It takes a few turns on thin dirt roads to reach one of its two mountain cabins, built on stilts, but once you do, there are nothing but mountainous forests of mint green and gray-hued lavender to distract you. You can feel like you are the only two people who exist on earth, so be sure to come with someone you really, really like.
The cabin I stayed in was designed in wood and warm, reddish tones, but clearly the best part about the tzimmer was the view from the patio, smartly situated with its back to the rest of Klil. The only sign of life in the forests was a rundown crusader fortress located at Kibbutz Yehiam at the peak of a far hill. In the winter, water flows through Nahal Yehiam below, and the Jewish National Fund has carved out a hiking trail along it.
The cabin includes a lounge area, a fully stocked kitchen, and a small hot tub room adjacent to the bedroom. But you might have to ruin your private moment and tell the owner, Esti Ayali, when you want to use the hot tub; she needs to turn on the electricity generator to generate the bubbles. Esti and her husband, Yoav, live next door in their home and they're always available on their cell-phone (when you catch a line!) to cater to the guests' needs.
Blame it on the electricity solar panels, but lamps don't shine too brightly inside, adding to the intimate and romantic setting. There is no television - fortunately - but a stereo system with a small music selection. This trip's most relaxing moment came when this writer popped in one of their Mozart CDs and dropped on the queen size bed to the sounds of birds chirping in the carob trees.
NIS 1,500 per couple for two nights, including breakfast, on weekends; weekday discounts available.
Tel: 050-379-4661; www.eyali.co.il
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Nestled in the green hills by Nahariya and fueled almost exclusively by natural energy sources, Klil takes organic, creative living to a different dimension
You'll probably need a GPS to get you to the entrance of Klil, but be warned: once you enter, it stops working. Klil consists of dirt roads carved through shrubby hills leading to custom-made one and two-story homes.
Klil doesn't look like it belongs in the tiny state of Israel. Residents' gardens consist of acres of land filled with organic herbs, orchards and olive trees. Colorful signs lead the driver to Klil's attractions, among them a goat cheese shop, a bakery and a few cafes, a soap and honey maker, and jewelry, glassworks and ceramic shops. Just watch out for the wild boars (don't worry, they don't attack humans, only agriculture); I almost ran over a pack late at night on the dirt road.
Klil, located 14km east of Nahariya was built as an ecological settlement in 1978. It started out with seven seed families and grew to accommodate some 100 families today. Dr. Irit Schreier, the head of the Klil community council, explained the principles behind the community in the wilderness.
'We call it an agro-ecological model of settlement that combines three elements: First is organic agriculture - it's forbidden to grow non-organic agriculture. The second is sustainable orchards - growing trees with simple methods that maintain ecological balance. The third is developing the wild greenery of the region.'
The residents try to use only natural sources of energy. Every home has solar electricity panels, but residents soon found that solar panels are not always enough, so they are backed up by generators.
There is a sense of refined beauty in Klil and it is a unique and quirky alternative to the more predictable resorts in the Golan and along the Kinneret. The residents are hospitable, and several Klil families have built tzimmers on their land to host out-of-towners. Here are some highlights, but don't worry about the GPS: part of the fun is getting lost and exploring on your own.
FOOD
Brunch at Smadar BeClil comes recommended if you're looking for delicious vegetarian food and friendly hospitality. Smadar and Yossi Yardeni, among Klil's first residents, converted the family's first home into a restaurant furnished with handcrafted wooden furniture both indoors and out. While cutting up organic vegetables from the kitchen, Yardeni explained the reason for her move from Jerusalem, where she was a student at the Bezalel School of Art.
'We decided our future needed more space; we wanted land,' says Yardeni. 'We loved the virgin nature of Klil; you can preserve it.' To realize the Klil dream, they bought land from Druse living in Galilee and started out in a tent: 'We were very self-sufficient; we grew vegetables, herded goats.'
They closed down their own organic goat-cheese dairy about six years ago, and Yardeni, now 50-years-old, considers managing her restaurant and two tzimmers as her form of retirement in comparison. The love she puts into her work is evident in the brunch, consisting of fluffy herb omelets, a plate of delicious goat cheese (including some from Klil's own cheesemaker), a platter of vegetables topped with Yardeni's own olive oil and fresh mint lemonade. (Don't miss her homemade guava jam.) For lunch and dinner she offers salads, sandwiches and homemade pastas.
Further along the rocky road is Cafe B'Clil, a well-kept camping ground with its own cafe for those who don't need the comforts - and expense - of a tzimmer. Camping tents go for NIS 80 per person (NIS 60 for children) and they come with mattresses only. The founder is Tamar Schoer, a former art teacher and veteran resident of Klil.
I visited the shanty cafe as the cooks were preparing for the Thursday night crowd. Open to the public only on weekends, the cafe is reminiscent of the cushioned-lined restaurant huts in Sinai, minus the desert, water and Beduin. The conditions may be simple, but the olive trees, avocado trees, white tents, and lots of green that surrounds Cafe B'Clil make this place exceptional.
Smadar BeClil: 04-956-1678; http://www.ohalimretreats.com/cafe_clil.htm
Cafe B'Clil: (04) 996-9432; 052-326-1898
CRAFTS
Craftsman and artists have made Klil their home for the inspiration and solitude the surroundings provide. For ceramist Yael Shemer, the electricity shortage has actually sparked a new way of working.
Moving to Klil ten years ago has forced Shemer to fire up her clay using a method she never thought she would implement when she learned ceramics as a Bezalel student: gas ovens. Electric solar panels were simply not strong enough for her to power the more widely used electric oven. Shemer has found that she prefers this method. The oxidation of the gas oven renders unpredictable, unique color streaks in her ceramic jugs, plates and mugs.
Inside her garage-like studio, her shelves are filled with dozens of literally half-baked works. As a result of the energy shortage at Klil, Shemer fires the oven only about three times a month, and the ceramics require several rounds in the oven.
Luckily for newer Klil resident Reut Keret, electricity isn't required for her work. She sells her own handcrafted jewelry from a little corner in the small house she shares with her husband. She named her small boutique 'Sundri', which means 'pretty woman' in Hindi since her jewelry is made using gemstones imported from India. She crafts jewelry using a method that requires minimal tools - and no electricity outlets. While her selection of jewelry is rather small, she sells striking gems that follow the length of the ear lobe.
Yael Shemer: (04) 980-4571; Sundri: 050-634-3114
ENTERTAINMENT
Ada Moril of Diane and Ada, a folk music duo popular on the folk and world-music circuit, has made her home in Klil for the past 30 years ago. When I stopped by her 'Yellow House,' as it is officially called, she and her family were in the middle of separating olives from the branches to make their own olive oil.
Sitting under an ancient olive tree, the Canadian-Israeli explained in native English how she moved to Klil to find a quiet place in nature focused on ecological living. 'Already in Canada I knew I wanted to live in the country, in the hills overlooking the sea.' She has fulfilled her dream: It was a clear day and the coast of Nahariya shone cobalt blue.
In her living room Moril hosts her own concerts as well as those of other folk acts. From her home she also leads groups on herb trails, explaining the culinary and medicinal properties of herbs that grow wild in the Klil hills.
www.diane-ada.com; www.clil.net/ada Tel: 04-996-9540
A BOON IN THE BOONDOCKS
If Klil feels like it's located at the end of the earth, then B'vadi Etzel Ayali's is at the farthest end. It takes a few turns on thin dirt roads to reach one of its two mountain cabins, built on stilts, but once you do, there are nothing but mountainous forests of mint green and gray-hued lavender to distract you. You can feel like you are the only two people who exist on earth, so be sure to come with someone you really, really like.
The cabin I stayed in was designed in wood and warm, reddish tones, but clearly the best part about the tzimmer was the view from the patio, smartly situated with its back to the rest of Klil. The only sign of life in the forests was a rundown crusader fortress located at Kibbutz Yehiam at the peak of a far hill. In the winter, water flows through Nahal Yehiam below, and the Jewish National Fund has carved out a hiking trail along it.
The cabin includes a lounge area, a fully stocked kitchen, and a small hot tub room adjacent to the bedroom. But you might have to ruin your private moment and tell the owner, Esti Ayali, when you want to use the hot tub; she needs to turn on the electricity generator to generate the bubbles. Esti and her husband, Yoav, live next door in their home and they're always available on their cell-phone (when you catch a line!) to cater to the guests' needs.
Blame it on the electricity solar panels, but lamps don't shine too brightly inside, adding to the intimate and romantic setting. There is no television - fortunately - but a stereo system with a small music selection. This trip's most relaxing moment came when this writer popped in one of their Mozart CDs and dropped on the queen size bed to the sounds of birds chirping in the carob trees.
NIS 1,500 per couple for two nights, including breakfast, on weekends; weekday discounts available.
Tel: 050-379-4661; www.eyali.co.il
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