We celebrated 22 years together in a nice Jerusalem restaurant called 1868 - named after the date of the building. So while the civil war was raging in the US (or is it few years after?), builders in Jerusalem were constructing a lovely building outside the old city walls for a residence which eventually turned into a restaurant with arched ceilings and thick walls.
The fare here was upscale middle-eastern, however, I saw nothing middle-eastern about the place. What I thought was the middle-eastern herb zaa'tar (hyssop)wasn't. I was informed by the polite French waiter that this was some kind of coarse pepper. There was black olive paste and eggplant dip for the bread and that was as middle-eastern as it got. The waiters were doting and served us new setting after each course, with the setting being brought to us on not just a plate, but on top of soft white towels.
We tried to be adventurous for the first course and took veal sweetbreads. We had not idea what they were and I was sorry I asked because the guy said they were "shkeidim" or tonsils - something awful like that. They were presented beautifully in a toasted potato nest on top of mushrooms and baby lettuce leaves. I told Hubby - pretend you're a contestant on Fear Factor and just eat the fucking things. But he wasn't about to get $50,000 for it. Too bad, because I would have won. There were 4 of them and I had 3 while he just managed to down one.
Next we ordered the main course - which I thought would have come with some side dish or potatoes or salad or RICE. I mean if you're going to call yourself middle-eastern - serve RICE!!! These cookie cutter circular portions of beef arrived for Hubby with 4 thin slices of potatoes and my goose breast was also cut with the same circular cutter. The chef must have lots of fun with those cutters. I guiltily ate the fois gras on top of the goose because I've seen those widely distributed photos of how they torture those poor geese in order to get their fois gras.
Hubby's eyes were closing and I thought he's going to definitely fall asleep at the table and if he does - should I leave him there overnight and take a bus home, or wake him up? But he was actually sitting ever so blissfully in the padded leather-like comfortable chair wishing he had one of those in our dining room. Yes, I'd like that too, because then he'd fall asleep on one of those and then I'd have the whole bed for myself.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Happy Anniversary to Me
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3 comments:
Hello Leah
I have never responded to a Blog, indeed I had no idea what they were until my daughter intiated me recently. I also have a reasonably elderly computer (more than 4 years old! Archaic really!)which makes internet access a challenge.
Anyway, the reason that I have made the effort to access your site is that I saw your picture in the Jewish Quarterly which my son bought with him from Paris, where he lives, to New Zealand where I live.
What caught my eye, apart from a certain endearing normality in the idea of Jewish women blogging and that I didn't think Jewish women said "fuck" (except me) is that you look exactly like me!
That is, I turned the page and I thought someone had put in a photo of me (years ago, I'm 59). It was really weird!
So, I assume that in your background you have Ukrainian or similar parents or grandparents "cos the only other person I ever met who looked at all like me had the same sort of background.
I'm from Britain nearly 30 years ago and have the aforementioned son (36, unbelievable!) and a daughter in the USA (31) and a daughter in Australia (24). We continue to be wandering Jews in the best tradition.
I went home to Britain a few weeks ago to my dad's 90th birthday.
If I ever get someone under the age of 25 within range of this computer I shall send you a photo of myself many years ago. You'd recognise it.
Paula
Heh heh, sorry to hear you look like me :-) At least I can find solace in the fact that there are proper, British-bred Jewish women using foul language too. My mother's family was from Tysmenitsa, which was in Poland and is now in the Ukraine.
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