Beautiful Israel: An Ode to Food

by Mikakel Kaleekaku

The Israeli Nifnoofer. The object used to wave at the Mangal in hopes that the fire will rise if you greet it in a kind way. (Photo: Reuters showing how right-wing Israelis attack with Mangals)

If there is one thing Israel has, it's food. Kosher food. This is why I moved to Israel. For the holy food. It's not just food. It's a holy connection.
The best kosher food is in the Holy Land. It is so much better than the kosher food in Topeka.
Oh. How I love thee. Kosher food that is not just pizza. 

Israelis love Tradition. 'The Taste of Yesteryear' is written on half of the falafel stands. For some reason, no matter what the spice of yesteryear they're using is, it’s cumin.
Oh. How I love thee and thy food that never changeth. Before thee I never knew what yesteryear tasted like. Nor did I knoweth it was a word. Tradition is at thy heart as is thine taste of cumin.

Jachnun, Malauach, Choolante. It is all for the taste of yesteryear.  Whatever yesteryear tastes like, before Israel I was scared to eat it. 
Oh. How I love thee. Your connection to thine past is never forgotten. Even if thine food is not fresh. Oh. The oil in thou addeth to thine bread.
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Shoko BSakit. We have chocolate milk in a bag, so that when you think you finished it and think it’s done, it spills on you.
Oh. How I love thee and thine care for the environment. Always reminding me that I need to put my shirt in the wash after I drink thee.

We have coffee that doesn’t dissolve. It is a Turkish miracle. When I finish the coffee, there is more coffee inside the cup than when I started the coffee. The greater miracle is that Israelis invented the Turkish coffee.
Oh. How I love thee. Thine coffee that shalt never cease.

The whole food shopping experience is holy. We can eat whatever we want in the supermarket. If you can knock back an avocado while in the vegetable section, you don't have to pay. As long as it's in the Super, they don't charge for it.
In America, they have tasting stations. You can’t choose what you want to taste. You take something and they make you feel uncomfortable for opening the pack of chips and not buying it. Not very welcoming to have a guy rationing one chip at a time in a cupcake holder. In Israel, we take it and don’t ask, and it is fine. As long as you eat it in the supermarket, it’s free. It's like being at mom and dad's house.
Oh. How I love thee. Thy budget shopping hast never been better. How you care for thine people and have provideth a spit cup for the olives I eat by thee. And I thank thee for allowing me to taketh the shopping cart home. It is quite useful.

We can go to any falafel stand and eat for free. If you bring your own pita, the salads and dips on the side are free. Load it up. The key is to only eat the top layer of Salatim without hitting the pita. This allows for greater pickled vegetable allotment.
Oh. How I love thee and all thine Salatim on the side of thine falafel stand that I don't have to pay for. You have helped me many times when business was down. I pray thou forgiveth me for taking the Salatim cart. I was not aware that metal cart must stay.

We can take anything out of the hotel dining room. Nobody asks any questions. They have accepted our ability to find ways to take a rugulach tray out of the dining room with no shame. I was at the Dead Sea for breakfast and people were filling up shopping carts, taking it to their room for lunch.
Oh. How I love thee and not having to feel shame smuggling food out of thine buffet. I feel a connection to my brethren when I do so.

The Mangal. In American barbecues are huge. In Israel, the barbecue is intimate. A square made to fit six wings if you place them correctly, angled inside one another.
Oh. How I love thee. I will forever maketh my barbecues in tiny tin tray size form. And thine kindness shown when you wave to thou Mangal with your Nifnoofer. Oh. Thine tradition of celebrating every holiday with thine Mangal. As barbecues are an Israeli tradition.

Meurav Yerishalmi. The special food of Jerusalem. In Tel Aviv, they throw their trash in the garbage. In Jerusalem, we eat it. We're religious and we don't throw out food. Baal Tashchis. Kidneys, intestines, eyebrows. We make a dish of it and eat it along with the taste of Yesteryear.
Oh. How I love thee and thine ability to cook whatever cometh thine way, as thou believeth in H'.

I have put on a lot of holy weight since moving to thee. Oh. How I love thee and all the food you take credit for, especially pizza. I how I will never forget thine Turkish Coffee thou hast created. And thine tradition of celebrating Independence Day with a barbecue. Oh. How I love thee and thine traditions.