Roundup, Shmoundup. Bo Boundup.

Howdy Faithful Followers,

Well, this post, technically, is a round up, but it's starting to become clear that our idea of a round up now must be expanded, due to the rampant 'round up' abuse that Dafna has so frequently committed. Can we call it a half-circle up? Because there's a lot to be said about different hummus places in New York City, but perhaps it's not a round up. You guys tell us.

A few weeks ago, Dafna wandered down to the Upper West Side in search of this magical land known to some as 'The Shtetl,' to others 'Little Tel Aviv.' There were tales of hummus, sabich, Goldstar Beer, and many Jews. She got off the subway, dawdled west on 72nd Street, and almost immediately laid eyes upon SoomSoom, a sort of falafel/sabich fast food place.

$7.50 for a sabich?? This better have been the best. Ever. Period. Here's what it looked like halfway through (and I think upside down somehow):



Okay. Sort of hard to distinguish what's going on there, so here's the situation: good, creamy hummus, nice spongy pita, two, count them TWO hard boiled eggs and eggplant. All of those things would have been fine on their own, but everyone knows sabich and fried potato go together like the cliff and the sea at Rosh Hanikra. SoomSoom, however, did something really strange. They shoved in half a ton of boiled, unsalted potato slices. Boiled? What? Maybe it's easier/faster to do, but it was so unflavored, and there was just so much of it. Ack. The good news was their little salad area, which contained all of the classics - Israeli salad, onions in sumac, green and red cabbage, spicy shredded carrots, amba, etc.

Then, across the street, like an oasis of coffee-flavored blended ice beverages in the barren Be'ersheva landscape, there it was: Aroma. Rachel has been spoiled by Aroma in Tarzana (the other Little Tel Aviv), but Dafna has never experience American Aroma. It was like walking into an alternate galaxy. There they were, all the salads, sandwiches, delicious drinks and bourekas, but everything was in...English. Dafna got an ice Aroma and vowed to return one day soon, demanding pickles on her egg salad sandwich, per usual.

Okay. Let's take it back to our humble hummus beginnings for just a moment. Last Friday, Dafna ended up at the Hummus Place in the West Village. Here's the 'hummus with fava beans' (Hummus Place, don't abandon your roots - you mean 'hummus with ful'!)



Looks awesome, right? Well you know what? It WAS awesome. Yes, the cilantro dressing was a little much, but the egg in the middle was great, the hummus warm and light, the beans not too mushy. Pita was debatable, but fine. Could there have been more? Sure. But a good showing, all around. (Minus all of these ridiculous New York prices, wah wah.)

Out of desperation, there may soon be ventures to Maoz (a chain falafel place? Eek), a place near Columbia called Amir's, and Nanoosh, which looks maybe decent. We'll keep you in the loop.

What else? I'll tell you what else! Do you people know that Rachel Marder has been officially employed by the Jerusalem Post as a copy editor for more than a month now? Here's her byline on this article, too! Dafna continues the job search. Anyone want to lend a hand?

That's all for now, folks. Wishing you all a Shabbat full of Shalom.

Guest Post by Leah Zeff

Hello to all of Rachel and Dafna's blog followers. I have never blogged but requested this special opportunity to publicize an extraordinary find in the hummus world. While I was recently in America I found a hidden gem in the refrigerated dips section in the local Safeway. It is creamy and delicious, and packaged in a nice clear container with a red rimmed top. Comes in a variety of flavors such as supremely spicy (highly recommended), roasted red peppers, greek olive, and many more. Yes, keep your eyes peeled for Sabra© brand Hummus (OU Kosher, Parve).

Hummus, even unto its innermost parts.

Okay people. Dafna has been having intense, uncontrollable, incapacitating cravings for, surprise ... hummus. Specifically, for the what she now considers to officially be her favorite Israeli hummus, Ben Sira. Yes yes, there's that delicious Nahariyan locale known as Danny's Hummusiya, but something about that Ben Sira charm. The beans in the table, the planning to have enough cash before you go because they don't take credit card, the mushrooms and cauliflower. Rachel gets to go whenever she wants, but Dafna just gets to hear about it and dream. She's also been craving shakshuka, and made this little pan of it recently: Supposedly New York City ( I always imagine myself in those Pace Salsa Commercials with a southern accent when I say that. New York City??) has some decent places, some of which I've even been to. There's The Hummus Place, which matches in texture but is a bit undersalted as I recall. The Chickpea lacks two important flavors - pride and love, both of which may be even more important than lemon and salt. Taim has good falafel and sabich but pretty standard hummus. Supposedly there is a place in the outer reaches of Brooklyn, Mimi's, that actually serves authentic, I feel sick but I can't stop eating this, please someone just take the fork away, hummus.

Well folks, I did it. I went. I sat on the B train for 55 minutes of an ethnic safari - rivaled only by the ride to Hebrew U. through Mea Shearim - until I reached Mimi's. And holy cow, was I disappointed. It started out innocently enough, ordering hummus with pitriyot - mushrooms. But two things made me uneasy before I took my first 'wipe.' First, it took 15 minutes for the order to come out. My order being a bowl of already-cooked hummus. Second, I heard a microwave. Let's gloss over the hummus itself, which was overly lemony (who would think such a phrase could appear in this blog?), overly salty (seriously, who is writing this thing??) and under-spiced. But the kicker? My hummus had spots of that sort of darkened, hardening crust that can appear on half-eaten hummus sitting in the fridge for weeks, or as I discovered when we made hummus last June, forms when you leave hummus sitting in the hot sun. You know what that means? It means they microwaved my hummus. Need I go on? Case dismissed, court adjourned, other legal jargon.

But then, this event, the second Hummus Taste Off, happened recently (thanks, Amanda, for the tip.)

So, there's minor hope for hummus in New York City, after all.
(This stuff's made in New York City?? Seriously, just watch this commercial)

Wait! Also, meet Dafna's soon-to-be new roommate. Tim currently works as Fordham University's Alumni Relations and Development secret weapon, without whom the school would likely implode.

Springtime for Israel

Chodesh tov, friends! Time to throw a little Jewish knowledge your way. Today is the first day of the Jewish month of Nisan. This is an important day for several reasons. Firstly, it's Rachel's Hebrew birthday. Secondly, tradition teaches it's the day the mishkan (the tabernacle the Jews carried in the desert for 40 years) was finished. Thirdly, recognizing rosh chodesh ("head of the month") Nisan was the first commandment given by G-d to the Jewish people. Soon followed by the commandment to never covet your neighbor's hummus or falsely testify against hummus. The arrival of Nisan also means Pesach is upon us (14th Nisan), so start peeling those tomatoes, liquidizing your sugar and hiding your quinoa (it's a gray area?!). Speaking of delicious foods, I went to the hummus capital of Israel last week with my parents and the Congregation Beth Am group that was visiting. The restaurant was a major crowd pleaser. The hummus was okay. Kind of a let down, honestly. Lacking in flavor, crucial lemon juice and too oily. None of that stopped me from dipping the fries like a beast. I mean, it's still Abu Ghosh. I had a wonderful visit with my parents. We happily spent several days in the lush, rainy north. Below, our hike in Banias. Everything is in full bloom in the north. Springtime always makes me think of Hitler in the best way. My cousin apparently built this beautiful new metal sculpture called "Turning the World Upside-Down" (by Anish Kapoor) at the Israel Museum. My dad, pictured in front of it. I found a photograph at the Israel Museum of one of Dafna's pastry chef colleagues. August Sander, German 1876-1964. Pastry Cook, 1928. Moshe Dayan on King George St. Sculpture of the national sport in Israel, spitting like you just don't care. Outside Dafna's favorite government building, the ministry of culture and sports. Shout out to UConn for winning the NCAA! I've been hearing about some tasty hummus in the Ein Karem neighborhood of Jerusalem. Looking forward to trying that!

Are we supposed to call this a roundup?

Dear faithful readers,

As the title suggests, I'm a bit wary in approaching a label for this post. I've been in America for a bit under a month now, slowly getting into the swing of things - home, the gym, driving a car, the total lack of edible hummus, you know. All the important things.

Before I wax poetic, a few important things need to be picked up right where we last left off:

1. The day after we ate that monstrously delicious hummus in Cafe Mizrahi in the shuk, we joined Ruthie and her fearless food guide, Ben, for a northern tiyul to Nazareth - chiefly, to experience the spice Mecca that is the El Babour spice emporium. It did not disappoint. We watched them make fresh za'atar, sampled all sorts of nuts and fruits, and fantasized about all of the things you could make with that many spices.




2. We ate many delicious salatim, some savory kebabs on cinammon sticks and a whole trout (really, the whole thing. I ate an eyeball by accident. Slimy, a little chewy, but overall innocuous). We also caught the Church of the Annunciation and some lovely signs about how if you aren't Muslim, you're a big fat loser. Nice to know that I can remedy my loser status with just a few prayers of submission.






3. My last day in country was relaxing, emotional, intense, but the more I think about it, passed with absolutely no feeling of finality, for which I am very thankful. Rachel and I had breakfast at Cafe Bagina (cue the Austin Powers-esque pronunciation), wandered down to Yad Lakashish and made some important purchases, stopped in to Ma'aleh film school (remember Rachel's article? Here it is, in case you forgot: http://blog.omanoot.com/maaleh-a-jewish-film-school ), took a peek at the Ministry of Sports and Culture (but why the two always together?) and got a few snacks at the shuk.

4. The sendoff I got from the sheirut driver to the airport far exceeded my expectations. First he yelled at me for having too many bags,then was ready to murder me when he realized the street was one way. He asked me if I knew where the next pickup street was, which I did. I directed us back to Baka, until he discovered he'd said the wrong street name. I'll spare you the rest of the details, like how he told a group of seminary girls to stop saying goodbye to their friend because she wouldn't miss them anyway, and just tell you that it took us TWO HOURS to get out of the city. As I dragged my 5 bags away from the curb at Ben Gurion, he shook his head through his open window at me and sped off. The perfect farewell.

So where are we now? Well, I seem to be setting myself up for a culinary career, and plan to move to the city in about a month. I'll be less stingy with details as it becomes finalized. Right now I want to jump to the poetry, and plan on waxing it for a little while.



I have to start with that photograph, which is actually of a photograph. That is my favorite work by Toby Cohen, called The Flying Sukkah. For me it symbolizes a lot of things about Israel, and I have a panoramic post card with that print on one side from his opening last May. (See more of his work here: http://blog.omanoot.com/visual-artists/photography/toby-cohen )


Memory is a powerful thing. I'm not the first person to say it or realize it, but living in Israel, and I think I can safely say in Jerusalem, is an intensely vivid experience. And no, I'm not talking about the 'big' memories, like reading Torah with Women of the Wall, walking in the streets on Yom Kippur, or hiking Monfort in 100 degree heat. Those are memories I can pull in and push back, that I can describe in a story with ease.

The memories I'm talking about are the ones that just pop in when I close my eyes, smell something, hear a tune. For whatever reason, they are little bits I've held onto even without realizing it.

I hear the radio tuning through stations and it's a hot September afternoon, I'm waiting for Rachel outside of her internship and trying to find Galgalatz on my iPod, thinking about pizza.

They're talking on the news about the biggest full moon in years, and suddenly I'm on the bridge to the Cinematheque, watching a full moon just hang over the Old City walls, in the way it can only on a clear night over Jerusalem.

I smell instant coffee and I'm standing in my kitchen, waiting for the click of the electric kettle and watching the national religious women walk in and out of the small female college across the alley.

Tomer Yosef came up on my playlist and there I am on the bus back from Tel Aviv, marking my distance by the bridge they built for the new intercity train route, deserted during the day and nearly invisible at night.

I don't know that these were important moments, or if my brain just fires them off precisely because they are never the ones for which I reach. When I see them it's completely real, happening in front of me at that very second. In most memories, I think we see what happened as if we're out of our bodies, watching ourselves in the scene. I see these as if through myself. In a way, it's like they haven't stopped happening since they've started.

If you waited on HaRakevet right now, I'd pop out of that little alleyway any second, cross the muddy tracks and pick up the pace, wondering what to make for dinner, just like I'm still there.

And the secret ingredient is...

Mounds and mounds of lemon juice. Hummus drenched in lemon juice. Thank you, Cafe Mizrahi! In case you read our pathetic posting yesterday, we went back to the scene of our fabulous hummus encounter, and learned the name of the restaurant, Baruch Hashem.

Today our hummus came with slices of egg on the side. Nothing better than eggy hummus. Unfortunately not everyone at our table liked egg, so we couldn't mix it in. We are confident the hummus would have reached it's highest potential had the egg been fully mixed in, but it was still tasty minimally mixed in. The pita was also soft and doughy, super fresh.

This was definitely chic, upscale hummus. Not what we can do everyday, but good for when the parents come to visit.


Aside from the hummus, we ate a delicious brunch with Ruthie, Hannah Ellenson, Ruthie's friend Deborah and Hannah's friend Ezra. Who doesn't love brunch? Check out Hannah's mouth-watering poached eggs.

It's still sakhlab season in Jerusalem. Translation, it's still cold as a Kadafi at a cocktail party. Here's a sweet, sassy and super absorbent Dafna absorbing an equally sweet and sassy cup this morning at Mahane Yehuda.

Rabbi Susan Lippe snapped this piece of graffiti genius on a recycling bin in Jerusalem. Come back, Suzie Q!

Poems by the late great Israeli poet Leah Goldberg are up in Tel Aviv, still in celebration of the city turning 100 in 2009. Here's our resident poet posing with a sign:

Before we sign off today, dear readers, we need to inform you of some exciting life changes. Dafna is taking her culinary talents to the next level and starting culinary school in NYC in April. She'll continue to blog with Rachel (who the hell is writing this??) about her search for the perfect hummus as well as all the inventive cuisine she's sure to make. Rachel will hold down the fort. Maybe replace Dafna with a life-size piece of pita?

A Small Tragedy

Shalom Shalom Hummus Lovers,

Hands down, we have discovered a gold star chick pea of a hummus restaurant. We thought we'd seen it all, sampled it all. We thought we'd found all there was to find, and we were wrong. We recently ate lunch at little place in Mahane Yehuda with our dear friend Olivia. Of course, we had to have the hummus appetizer. We weren't expecting that much...like I said, we've tried many types now, getting a bit jaded. But we take it all back. This hummus was spiced differently. It had pickled pepper shavings on top and mixed in, the perfect amount of techina mixed in, sweet chickpeas, and a lovely hint of lemon. It was so creamy. Now, for the sad part. I can't remember the restaurant's name!

Not to worry. We're going back tomorrow (fingers crossed) with Ruthie Ellenson (she doesn't even know it yet!), and believe you me, I'll have my camera and notepad ready.