Police exam next week

At long last, it’s finally over. My final police class was tonight, now for a week of reviewing and studying before the exam next Sunday. Assuming I pass, and I sure hope I do, I will get my uniform a week before I go to the army. Even though its switching in one uniform for another, I am looking forward to both. While I am in the army I will still have to put in the minimum number of hours with the police. For regular volunteers in the mishmar ezrachi (civilian guard) its four hours a month, for volunteers who have completed the shlav aleph (first stage) course, it’s now fourteen hours per month. They said it would be OK if I don’t complete my hours while I am in the army and cant get away or spend my leave sleeping, but to make an effort to come. Although it sounds crazy, I am beginning to understand the rationale behind it. Keeping in touch with the police officers in each unit, and keeping in touch with the different officers make it much more enjoyable to come back once you’re free, instead of having to start over again from scratch as the new guy. I should be going for another rifle range practice this Friday to get certified on the micro galil and police handgun, but I think I am going to skip it and do it another time. I am going to be busy this weekend studying; I really want to pass with flying colours. I guess it’s also much more than just the test, it’s critical to know and understand the concepts, and to be ready to put them in practice in the field when the time comes. I learned some crazy laws at tonight’s class, but until I make sure I heard what I thought I heard, I'll keep it out of print. Tonight’s class covered some new topics and reviewed the subjects discussed in course. The courses are generally excellent, the guest speakers are knowledgeable, and have practical experience in their areas. I think the officers of mishmar ezrachi put together an excellent course, and really taught it well.

To be continued…

Two sides of the same coin

In my world, people are always trying to come up with new ways to contrast and compare everything. Good and bad, black and white, there are so many fault lines and rifts between people, groups, and ideologies. The recent row over the gay pride parade and the rioting in Jerusalem is just one example of the tensions simmering below the surface. If you take a look at the patchwork way in which rifts between groups are mended, it seems as if it’s a temporary band aid on the underlying problems. It is paramount we work together as a society for the common good. We are made up of so many factions, from religious to secular, the privileged to the working poor, Israelis run the full spectrum of human possibilities. As I think the country has shown in the past, when push comes to shove, when the future is at stake, we put aside our differences and pitch in together. I guess it’s when we have nothing better to fight about; we look inwards and get riled up by our fellow citizens who may not be exactly like ourselves. The joke about the Jew on the deserted island goes, after years of being shipwrecked on a deserted island, he was finally found. Before he set off back to civilization, he asked the ships captain to come ashore for a tour of the island. The captain was blown away by the sight before him; the castaway had built an entire city out of wood. Walking through the street, the shipwreck told the captain “this is my synagogue, pointing to a building on the right” he continued “this is the other synagogue, on the left”. The captain asked why one person would need two synagogues; “well” the shipwrecked man answered “that’s the synagogue I don’t go to”. As the expression goes, as two Israelis an opinion and get half a dozen answers. We may not seem eye to eye on everything, or anything, but somehow we still keep the country moving along and trying to find the best compromise for everyone to keep things on track. I think that’s one the best features of the country. Get on a bus, go somewhere, stand in line, order some food, you suddenly have something in common with everyone around you. Shared history, heritage and outlook may be a common bond, but it’s more likely you will find yourself eating jachnun and schug (fried dough and hot pepper spread) with people from four continents. You so often meet people from all walks of life that in any other context would have nothing in common with. Suddenly you find both the ninety year old grandmother from Ukraine and the twenty year old sabra both love soccer, but root for different teams. Israel has a way of bringing people together, and making not just memories, but creating life in a state where things are dynamic, exciting, and alive. I read in a magazine a while back about a survey of chefs in Israel and what they thought Israeli food was. From shwarma to pita, chummous to cous cous, everything we consider Israeli has its origins in other cultures, and other places. Even in antiquity, Israel was the place where there was an exchange of ideas, culture, and goods. Perhaps the recipe for the perfect falafel was passed along by a merchant looking for the perfect recipe for shwarma… It seems that the real answer is that Israeli food, like our culture, is fusion, with bits and pieces taken from all over the world and woven into a tapestry. We have room in our cultural palete for gifelte fish, falafel, jachnun, malbi, and plenty of room left over for the hundreds of cultural delights. I always think of Dr. Seuss and his story about butter side up, or butter side down. As a nation, we each have a unique take on the world and how to go about making it a better place. Ultimately, we hopefully all end up eating our bread and butter whatever side it’s on. Maybe it’s not critical how we get there, but that we work towards a common goal together.

My third Kilo Burger at Norman's in Jerusalem

Last week we all went out to Norman’s in Jerusalem’s German Colony and had a few kilos of meat. Yes, I said a few kilos, as is twice that many pounds. Scott, Rob, Shira, my Dad and I went out for lunch and ordered just about everything on the menu. I ordered my kilo burger well done. The burger came on two buns of half a kilogram each (the patties) to ensure they were, as I put it, “very, very, very well done”. The burger platter came with a side of fries, pickles, and salad. Scott ordered the huge 700g steak, and we shared both. Shira, Scott and Rob all ordered the pumpkin soup for an early American thanksgiving, my Dad and I ordered the beef stew based on a tomato soup, as Canadian thanksgiving was a while ago. Following the soup, we had a platter of Israeli starters, including kubah, egg rolls, chummous, Moroccan cigars, and chicken wings. The service was fast and excellent. Pitchers of diet and regular coke later, we were in the midst of the main course with a steak sandwich for Rob, a steak for Shira, and a chicken breast lunch special for my Dad. The steak Shira ordered as part of the lunch special looked like the baby sibling of Scott’s steak, which he had grilled to medium-rare. Once we shared our orders, I had to send my steak back and had it re-cooked to extra well done. The steak and burger were excellent. Scott took home the “I ate a Kilo Burger” T-Shirt as I already had two from previous outings. I did get to keep the frequent client card however, you never know when I free burger or steak could come in handy. Checking the Norman’s site the other day (http://www.normans.co.il/) I found my name on the wall of fame. I don’t think it’s something you can do very often and not have dreams of marauding cows. The last time I had the kilo burger, was after Tel Rehov in 2005, I had two in the same week and had nightmares for days. I also didn’t eat for about a week, but that is another story. In contrast, at this past summer’s excavation at Tel Zaharah, much of the time spent digging under the blazing sun and resting under the shade of the olive trees during break was spent discussing Normans, kilo burgers, and steak. I suppose that it’s only natural to fantasize about an American style burger when you suddenly find yourself eating kibbutz schnitzel and hard boiled eggs as your major source of protein. I definitely think Norman’s is part of the Israel experience, and not just because of the massive quantities of beef. Sharing the experience with someone back home, you instantly bond in friendship, a life long connection seared in beef and tasty deserts. It’s hard to relate the Norman’s experience to someone who has never been, the best way to find out what it’s all about is to experience it for yourself. I am friends with one the waitresses there from Ulpan, she told me someone once came in and ate two kilo burgers back to back, it put me to shame. I never thought it would be my goal to eat the weight of an encyclopedia in beef, I guess it’s healthier to focus on other life goals. It would be strange getting the reputation as the guy who ate five back to back, people tend to look at you differently if they think you can eat them in one sitting. I guess it’s not a contest; I am quite content having my clothes too big on me. Dessert and tea was excellent, a huge selection, and the vanilla ice cream, although pareve, still tasted great after a few pounds of meat, bread and salads. My third kilo burger was quite an experience, one I am not sure I will be rushing to repeat. So to everyone from Tel Zaharah who dreamed of eating one, and to everyone who has, I look forward to seeing you soon at Norman’s!

The slideshow from my first kilo burger in 2004: http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-5465569841486799281

Boring Borat?

Borat Boring?

Borat, star of recent Hollywood success movie is good, very good. He started off as a bit character in the Ali G show, and had some funny, insightful jokes. While he made people express their prejudices, or agree with his, he was original and interesting. It seems that with the success of the movie, and the work that went into promoting it, he has devolved the humor of the character into nothing more than a long running potty joke. Laughing at and with the bumbling reporter asking a scandalous question was funny without the overt anti Semitism, constant bashing of Kazakhstan and toilet humor. The show could be carried with witty humor that does not have to sink to the level of Boltok the rapist, or how his fictional sister is Kazakhstan’s fourth best prostitute. I found it hilarious that throughout the movie he speaks in Hebrew, constantly screaming things at his producer in thick Russian accented Hebrew. I recently read he bases his “wa wa we wa” phrase on zehu ze, a popular Israeli TV show. I don’t know if that’s accurate, but the Hebrew alone makes the movie worth watching. Regarding the movie, this was the first time I heard the phrase mocumentary used, a mock documentary. I thought about it for a while, and it kind of made me hungry, it reminds me of mock chicken loaf (see my post about Perl’s).

We have recently seen several interviews with Borat on TV from all over the world. In Holland, on David Letterman, and the Howard Stern Show. It was surprising that the jokes were the same, the back story identical. Sacha Baron Cohen went from being funny and unique with Borat to boring and dull with repetitive jokes, and old material. I guess the movie, if taken with a grain of salt, would be funny for a first time viewer, or someone never exposed to Borat. Seeing as the success of the movie relies on people not recognizing him, I don’t think there will a Borat 2 anytime soon, at least not filmed in the States. Currently, the movie has made at least a hundred million dollar profit (boxofficemojo.com) while succeeding in annoying, offending entertaining and amusing millions of people. I would not recommend the movie if you have something better to do, or are familiar with the character, it is good for a mindless laugh at peoples prejudices.

I can understand the appeal of the concept though, I know many people who would not just be out of place in the big city, but seem as if they come from a different planet. One of the interesting aspects of Israeli culture is that we are all a bit like that, trying to figure out how to coexist in a nation of malbi and jachnun along side hamburgers and doughnuts. The fish out of water theme is something we can all relate to, now if only there was a way to turn my cultural confusion into a multimillion dollar movie project…

What exactly is Loof?

Ever wonder what comes in a can, could be beef or chicken, is kosher, and has a pale pink colour? If you answered yes, you’re not alone. From soldiers with their combat rations (manot krav) to the more adventurous gastronomic explorers, the lore and legend of Loof is well known. I searched for loof on Google and found 964,000 results; someone must be searching the internet for more information. Many try to explain away the inherent complexities of what exactly loof is as the Israeli equivalent of spam. This could not be further from the truth. Loof comes in two varieties commonly found the supermarket, “beef” and “chicken”. It’s interesting that both the “beef” and “chicken” cans have the same picture on the label and more or less the same smell and consistency. Unlike spam, the ingredients are a mystery, and unlike spam, loof is very kosher. I have heard an urban legend of soldiers eating loof in Lebanon recently which was left over from the supplies earmarked for Lebanon twenty years ago. It seems that eating loof practically older than you are doesn’t actually kill you, and as far as the packing, contents and smell, the makers stick to tradition after all these years. It seems to be indestructible; thousands of years from now, archeologists will find cans which are still ready to eat. I wonder what they will think of us, based on those small cans? Loof is a pinkish mass resembling canned pet food, and comes out of the can with a resounding “Shhhllllluuurpppp!” as it slides, wiggling, onto your plate. There are many opinions as to how this delicacy should be eaten, fried, seasoned, roasted, and cold out of the can, the list goes on. It’s a versatile manna, and ready to be molded into the most creative of recipes. By volume and weight, it seems that it is approximately the same price as the leading band of cat food; I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, perhaps they get their “beef” from the same “farm”. Since loof is kosher, and has ingredients listed on the side of the can, I can’t imagine they put anything too terrible in there. They list the ingredients in the typical Israeli mystical fashion common to all cans: Beef, Preservatives. They don’t really explain what beef means, or what really is in there, its one of life’s big mysteries. I myself like picking out the small bits of identifiable “meat” and feeding the rest to the accumulated cats, who take one whiff of the potent smell and come running. I have noticed several times how the allure of the loof scent, which is ordinarily repugnant to humans, is like sniffing crack cocaine for cats. They are enthralled by the scent, fighting just to approach. The people in the vicinity however, are running while holding their noses and shielding their eyes. Loof isn’t for everyone, but everyone should try it at least once. Perhaps it’s like a rite of passage, live to tell about it, and have a long life.

Exploding Mazola

We discovered something interesting this morning while making French toast for breakfast. Mazola margarine with olive oil in it can and will spontaneously combust into a huge fireball when coming in close proximity of the stovetop. It seems that even a small amount, when exposed to an open flame, turns into a conflagration in the pan. In the end, nothing happened, and neither of us lost any hair. I think it was reminiscent of a Chinese restaurant, huge fireballs accompany the meal. I think properly branded; Mazola with olive oil could include a slogan like: “Now with fireballs ten times bigger than the leading brand of margarine” or “Explodes faster than your waistline!” Maybe next time we will stick with the canned tuna, it’s safer.

Yourself Fitness

We just tried the Yourself!Fitness program (http://www.yourselffitness.com/) and after the initial evaluation, we both set up profiles and did a work out. Some of the moves were hard to keep up with, but the program asks you how it was and adjusts the workout to suit. Everything is burning now, and I think I feel pain in places I didn’t know I had muscles, but its all good practice. As the evaluation let me know “it may be a good idea to lose some weight”. I found it interesting that the bar on the bottom shows you how much time you have left for each exercise, how much time is left to the workout, and what’s coming next. I also like that you can pick diffrent locations, its nice to choose what kind of mood youre in. You can also customize the music, workout plan and tons of other things making it much more "real". Overall, we both enjoyed it and if we stick to it, I am sure its going to be useful. Since I go to the army in five weeks from today, and as I have now found out, am totally out of shape, Mya (the virtual trainer) is going to be my new best friend. There are also recipes and progress tracking, but I prefer pizza to Chilean sea bass.

A fire in Perls!

The bad news is farther down, but till we get there, I had to ask: “Where will I get my pepperoni from now?” From the deep fried greeben, to the pepperoni and pickles, Perl’s is always home. The women behind the counter never age; they seem as old now as they did a decade ago. The food is always consistent, and no matter what, they will be completely sold out of everything except for packages of lungs and liver on a Friday. The smell of the store makes me hungry, as my friend George put it “it smells like a morgue” but I knew its potential. From the back room always emerges trays of meat, deli and prepared foods. It was sometimes strange or spicy, I remember the time I picked up the wrong container of hummus and mustard and both were searingly spicy. Pepper steaks, breaded chicken, pickles and pepperoni were only a few of the reasons we kept coming back for years and years. Even after we had moved cities, and then continents, Perl’s was always a place to come back to and relive the childhood experience of peering into the glass display case hoping the woman behind the counter would offer a taste. Steaks on the grill, teriyaki lamb, hot dogs, hamburgers, and meat filled buns are all happy memories. The rice with chicken, chicken stuffed rice and a dozen types of mystery meat salami are all part of the meat mosaic. Smoked, sauced, and sautéed, the variety was immense and the new creations always interesting. When did we ever have a function, from back yard BBQ to a fancy dinner that Perl’s didn’t attend? From chulent to soup, their food was everywhere. Coming in to Perl’s, everyone knew your name (which may have meant I went there just a tad too often), and someone always asked “so young man, what can I get you? A pound of salami? Some pepperoni? Try something new?”. Perl’s didn’t wait for Chanukah to deep fry latkes and liver knishes; you could enjoy a hot one or pop it into the microwave all year round. No matter where I went and the places I have been, Perl’s is the best meat store the world over in my experience. I remember going to get that baseball cap at Bais Burger. It was always a problem seeing as you got it free with a minimum order of $100, and everything on the menu was so cheap. I think we only hit the jackpot once, before we went on a long drive up north and needed chicken nourishment for the road. A dozen burgers, fries, sandwiches, hot dogs and jumbos later, we had one Bais Burger hat, which I am sure belongs on the same wall as the “I ate a Kilo Burger” T shirt from Normans. The famous heart attach on a bun was always good, two burger patties, roasted pastrami and toppings. I think the first time I saw shmaltz in a jar was in Perl’s, as was the first time I found out you can eat chicken skin and lungs as a snack. Sometimes the food seemed to transcend cultural boundaries, food from the old country, food from today, and guessing at what type of meat nosh we will be eating tomorrow. I don’t think it’s a great experience for the heart, and undoubtedly not great for the waistline, but an occasional indulgence for the palate is understandable, its Perl’s after all. Its hard to sum up the allure of a store which seems like just another butcher shop, in reality its so much more. Maybe like all things, this too has to eventually fade away into the realm of imagination. I was hoping this memory of my childhood would be around a lot longer, so one day I could buy my kid his first latke in July as I remember my parents doing for me so long ago.

From the Globe and Mail:

North York butcher shop burned in four-alarm fire: A major fire burned for hours last evening at a butcher shop in the former North York. Fire broke out shortly before dark at a building near Lawrence Avenue and Bathurst Street. A total of 38 units were dispatched and the blaze grew into a four-alarm fire before it was brought under control. The business, Perl's Meat & Delicatessen Products, was not open and no one was injured.