Shopping for food these last few months has been boring. Most of my supplies come from the supermarket – the gigantic industrial Cosco variety, with airport sized aisles. It’s an impersonal environment with minimally paid workers who look like they’d rather be somewhere else. I can’t blame them.  I once worked behind the deli counter of such an establishment. I hated it. The customers either ignored you or were condescending “Girl! Oh gurrrrrl! Please slice me 200grams of pastrami, extra thin like I like”. I’d rather be the invisible manual worker than deal with people who believe they are a different and better species.

The dynamics of an outdoor market is different. I’m not sure why. Perhaps  it’s the fresh air, perhaps there is more passion when the vendors own their stalls. This is reflected in their interactions- a wary competitiveness, playful camaraderie.  The buyers too seem more talkative, asking questions “Are these melons sweet, why is this so expensive, the guys down there are selling it for cheaper… “. They share their recipes and butt in ahead of you.

My town doesn’t have a proper outdoor market. It once did but modern lifestyles couldn’t support it. Most couples work or study full time which leaves little room for souk style errands.  Sadly, large anonymous shopping centers have taken their place.   Whenever I do have an opportunity, I travel to Ramle, a mixed Arab and Jewish town in central Israel which boosts a small yet diverse outdoor market.

I’ve become acquainted with Ramle’s market through the years and know how to forage like a local- the Indian grocery supply curry leaves, basil seeds and bitter gourd, a Moroccan spice store stocks up on pickled truffles, the Arab vendors hawk fresh chicory and chickpeas, the herb stand supplies  green fenugreek and  summer savory. It is a place familiar and yet continually changing with the seasons.

While Ramle’s market is a vibrant, colorful hub, the town struggles. Crime and unemployment are high. Those with potential inevitably move out of the beleaguered neighborhood.  The chiseled stone architecture and elaborate metal ornaments are remnants of a more prosperous time.  Napoleon set foot here. Sultan Salah a-Din restored the great White Mosque. Now only the Mayan like White Tower remains.  The beauty of the town is seen through the refuse of daily life-gritty, real and unapologetic.

I can buy most of my ordinary food supplies close to home but there are a few things difficult to find in my homogenous town.  The garlic-mobile never made its annual visit and I was running dangerously low.  When Liz Steinberg, of the famous Café Liz blog suggested we head out to Ramle, I thought it was a great idea. It was my first time at the souk with a bouncing baby boy- I had forgotten how this can trigger conversations with even the most taciturn.  Cute little Danny with the perpetual smile was impossible to ignore. Even the garlic-pumpkin vendor, whose gruff voice I heard only for business suddenly brought out his cell phone to share pictures of his neighbor’s baby.  I realized then that I don’t come to Ramle only to stock up on food but for the people too. Mostly because of the people.

Other posts about Ramle Market:

Cardoon and meatball tangine

Street Food Tour of Ramle Shuk

Open Air Market- Ramla Shuk

Summer

Little India, food and spice in Ramle

Shuk: The Ramla Open-Air Market

It’s been busy around here.  Suddenly I’ve been inundated with parent- teacher meetings, school activities and the usual taxi-mom rounds of judo, ninjutsu, math club and a scattering of gleefully loud birthday parties. And when I am home, I cook up a storm to try to keep up with my kid’s ridiculous and ill-timed growth spurts (all their pants end geek style mid-calf).  It seems I have also been volunteered to prepare bunch of phantom boobs for my husband’s startup- which is basically cooking with inedible results.  None of the algorithm guys at the company have any interest in mixing gunk on the stove. The whole humdrum work-home-school-stirring routine has become, well, mind numbing boring.

Which is why I always appreciate a break from the usual to keep from being swamped with hectic ennui. This week it was all about architecture during the Vibe Israel tour. I contributed to their social media platform, tweeting away about a subject, until then, I knew very little about. Rather embarrassing considering my father-in-law is an architectural engineer.  In any case, I now have a renewed appreciation for exposed cement- aka brutalism, can talk about Bauhaus like there’s no tomorrow and can casually drop names of famous architects in conversation. Suddenly I’m aiming my camera at buildings and not at, let’s say,  za’atar or a plate of shakshuka. I like this change in perspective. It keeps life interesting.

Between al l this I made rice pudding which is appropriate in a way. It is one of the most diverse desserts that I know of, with variations spanning the globe.  Arroz con leche in Spain and Latin America, Riz au lait  in France, Moghli  in Lebanon, Zarda wa haleeb in Iraq, Tsamporado in the Philiphines….dusted with cinnamon,  scented with rosewater,  sprinkled with poppy seeds, infused w/ vanilla or drowned in a generous glug of maple syrup.  The world is connected by an invisible link of rice pudding eaters. Or so I like to think.

Rice pudding with oranges and pistachios

I’ve added candied pistachios, orange zest and orange blossom water for an exotic Persian interpretation of this popular dessert.

I used Simply Recipes for the rice pudding. I also tried her father’s method using precooked rice, which is convenient for using up leftovers but not as creamy. Although I used Arborio rice in the recipe, next time I’ll try a medium grain variety for a lighter result. According to Abigail Dodge of Fine Cooking, it contains more starch than the longer grains which can lead to a stiffer pudding.

2 1/2 cups  of whole milk

1/3 cup of uncooked medium grain white rice

Pinch of salt

1 egg

1/4 cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

½ teaspoon orange blossom water

Two oranges, zested and peeled

Candied pistachios- recipe below

Sugared orange zest- recipe below

Wash and drain the rice. Pour the milk into a small pot and add the rice and pinch of salt. It looks like an enormous amount of liquid but it will cook down. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to a simmer, stirring frequently to keep the rice from sticking. Continue to cook and stir until the rice is tender, 20-25 minutes.  Remove from heat.

While the rice is cooking combine the egg, sugar and orange blossom water, mixing until smooth.

Pour about ½ a cup of the rice mixture into the eggs while stirring vigorously. This helps temper them and inhibit curdling. Pour the egg mixture in a stream into the rice and continue to mix. Heat gently- do not boil- until the rice pudding thickens, about 2-5 minutes.

Candied Pistachios

Pour  1/4 cup of sugar in a pan an add just enough water to dissolve it. Bring to a boil and add 1/2 cup of pistachios. Continue to cook until the moisture has evaporated and the sugar clings to the pistachios.  Do not let the sugar caramelize. Transfer the pistachios to parchment paper.  When cool, cut the pistachios into halves or quarters.

Sugared Zest

In a small bowl, add ¼ cup sugar and ½ cup water and bring to a boil. Let thicken and add the orange zest  from 2-3 oranges and cook until translucent. Keep the orange scented syrup for flavoring tea or cold drinks.

Assemble,

Divide the rice pudding to 4 portions, top with orange quarters, candied pistachios and orange zest.

Wheat, for the most part, is an industrial product of the modern world. It is grown by companies the size of small cities with farms bigger than some countries.

Except with a bit of help from the sun, the process is highly technical, with advanced machinery utilized for every phase of the production.  Gone are the days of the quintessential farmer with his red tractor and pitchfork.

Despite being part of the Fertile Crescent where wheat originated most of the bread eaten in Israel is made from imported grains. The bulk of what is locally grown goes to produce animal feed. Yet tradition continues in some communities, as it has since antiquity.

Above: Left: Wheat fields near Tel Arad in the northern Negev taken on the Israel Trail. Right: Husking locally grown wheat at the Elbabur Galilee Mill in Nazareth. This family spice store is one of the few places where local wheat can be purchased.

Above: Left: Fresh green wheat which I purchased near the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem, in season for only a few weeks from the end of April to May. Right: Dried green wheat sold in a sack at the Galilee Mill in Nazareth.

Above: Left: Grinding bulgur into two different sizes- coarse and fine- at the Galilee Mill in Nazareth. Right: Wheat field ready to be harvested near Luzit.

Above: Fresh green wheat salad. Right: Separating the stray husks in a bowl of water.

Fresh Green Wheat Salad

Unlike dried green wheat (also known as freekeh), which has a texture similar to bulgur, fresh green wheat is soft enough to eat uncooked.   It reminds me of corn on the cob left too long over an open fire- a bold earthiness that hints of another time.

I bought fresh freekeh, made from locally grown wheat, in the Old City of Jerusalem, near the Damascus Gate.  I was on the lookout for it after reading Liz’s post last year. She made me a fan even before tasting it.  Steaming helps soften the grains, yet they still retain their characteristic chewiness.

1 cup green wheat

½ small onion, chopped

1 small bunch parsley, chopped

Juice of ½ of lemon

3-4 tablespoons of olive oil, I don’t normally measure but pour a good glug

Salt

Pour the seeds onto a large tray and clean them of small stones and other unwanted material.  After sorting the seeds, soak them in a bowl of water.  Remove the husks and other debris that float to the top. Drain. In a couscousiere or steamer, place the grains over boiling water and steam for about 10 minutes to soften the wheat.  Set aside and let cool.

Pour the wheat into a bowl and add the rest of the ingredients. Mix well and serve with chopped tomato and cucumber salad, hummus and labneh.

 ~~~

Wheat has become a very lucrative business. As arable land shrinks and the population expands it will only become more so. Food is a political commodity and can be used as leverage much like oil.  Corporations seek government help to improve their marketability, sometimes against public interest.  Wielding increasing power, their influenced has begun to clash with ethical considerations.

Michael Pollan and Barry Estabrook  have helped create awareness of the inner workings of agribusinesses. Much like Upton Sinclair’s Jungle, this has galvanized people to start asking questions about the source of their food.

“So? What are we going to do now?” my family asked slightly bewildered. We had just finished the Israel Trail at Tel Dan and needed a new project. “Let’s walk from the sea to sea” one son suggested ”from the Mediterranean to the Sea of Galilee”. “What about the Golan Height Trail?” was another idea. We could also finish the Jesus Trail which merges with the Israel Trail from Nazareth to the Yardanit Baptismal Site and continues onwards to Capernaum. You know what? I didn’t want to do any of those. I had enough of walking, at least for the next two weeks. I utilized my veto privilege and told them “Guys, we are going to do the cheese trail now”.
After weeks of disgusting backpacking foods (I never want to see another Knorr soup mix or dried apricot again. And keep those kabanos away from me.). We would traverse Israel from one goat cheese farm to the next.
From south to north:

Neot Semadar, Arava

Neot Semadar is an eco- kibbutz located 60 km north of Eilat in the Arava region. Agriculture and tourism is their main source of income with vineyards, olive groves and dates stands grown near the community. They also have a sizable goat herd and produce excellent local and French style cheese. When my two older sons and husband were walking the Israel Trail they stopped here and bought a platter of goat cheese, stuffed it in their packs and headed back into the Eilat Mountains, where they ate it with magnificent desert views of Israel and Jordan. Many backpackers volunteer on the kibbutz for several days before heading back on the trail. We were told by one volunteer, also a through-hiker, that the residents of the kibbutz switch houses once a year so they do not become materialistic.

Website and additional information: Neot Semadar

Naot Farm, Negev

Naot Goat Farm is a solitary farm nestled between Road 40 and the wide expanse of  the Negev Desert. Looking to escape the congestion and hectic lifestyle of central Israel the Nachimov family moved here about 10 years ago. The proprietress, a women with clear blue eyes and easy smile gave us samples of cheese to taste- tangy yogurt, soft cloud-white Safed cheese sprinkled with nigella seeds, sophisticated aged hard cheese infused with balsamic vinegar and camembert style cheese as soft as butter. “Who taught you how to make all these?” I asked as I sampled a wedge of charcoal cheese. “Haim”, she answered, “He has his own farm at Har Haruach” in the Jerusalem hills. Since then she has incorporated new techniques from her trips to Europe. I’ve noticed that the guild of cheese makers- the trailblazers who introduced specialty cheese to Israel- are a close knit group who have a commitment to help others in the field.  In addition to dairy products the farm runs several bed & breakfasts (zimmers) and a meat restaurant.

Website and additional information: Naot Farm

Kornmehl Farm, Negev

The Kornmehl Goat Farm, an off the grid (at least by Israeli standards) family farm sits on a hill top a few kilometers from Naot Farm. The gravel path leads to a sun worn wooden structure which houses a restaurant and cheese counter. The building stands alone against the desert landscape, its doors opening onto a shaded patio. The premises are modest, lacking artsy adornments and embellishments that tourists often favor. Instead the attention has gone into waste management to protect the fragile environment and minimalize damage caused by the herd. When we visited last weekend the cheese counter looked a bit sparse. “The Kormehl’s went to Australia for the year with their children” we were told by a family friend who was managing the farm in their absence. “There’s another goat farm down the road”, she said, in easy camaraderie. Still, only one good cheese is needed for true happiness, everything else is extra.
Website and additional information: Kornmehl Farm

Mozalis Goat Farm, Luzit

Mozalis is an amalgam of Moses and Alice Buie, an African American couple from Mississippi who immigrated to Israel in the 1960’s. Strongly spiritual people, they dreamt of becoming shepherds but didn’t realize how difficult it would be. The government ignored their request to live in a kibbutz or moshav. Instead they found themselves in the desolate periphery town of Dimona where the only job available was at a local textile company. In 2009 their children moved to Luzit, a small village near Bet Shemesh, to start a goat farm in honor their parent’s wish. When I visited during the Mata Yehuda Festival with Liz and Ben, Janice, their daughter apologized she didn’t have more to offer “We didn’t expect so many people to come” she told us. Instead she asked if we wanted lemon meringue pie made from fresh goat milk, an unexpected sweet surprise.

Website and additional information: Mozalis Farm

Telephone: 054-4791536 (closed on Shabbat)

Schwartzman’s Dairy, Bat Shlomo

Bat Shlomo is a one lane village with terracotta roofs and geraniums on the window sills. It is here Zelig Schwartzman, one of the founders of the moshav, established a small family dairy which still operates today. His grandson, Ziv, continues the family tradition in the same house his grandfather bought, now transformed into a small museum and restaurant. There’s a quaint courtyard at the entrance, decorated with knick knacks collected through the years – an old public telephone that operated using extinct asimonim coins, rusted agricultural equipment, wooden chimes, bright blue glass globes. In one corner, hangs a family tree with faded black and white photographs documenting three generations. We stopped here on our way back from Horshat Haornim, the oak tree groves surrounding the village. In the darkened room, surrounded with an eclectic mix of the family’s history, we ate home cured olives, stuffed grape leaves, lemony cucumber and tomato salad, warm flat bread and a delicious array of organic goat cheese.

Website and additional information : Schwartzman’s Dairy

Schwartzman Dairy – Cheese Made with Love

Ein Camonim, Galilee

Located off a small winding road in the upper Galilee, it’s easy to miss, with only a single sign marking the turn. A cheese counter is available for tastings but it’s best to sit for a meal alfresco style under the vibrant bougainvillea. Amiram and Drora Avrutzki the owners of the dairy have been producing artisanal cheese from 1979 and were instrumental in introducing a new Alpine breed of goat to Israel. Imported from France, it produces a whopping 1,000 litres of milk a year as opposed to 140 litres from indigenous breeds. Although the cheese can be purchased from many large supermarket branches, I still prefer to make the trip to their farm. It always seems to taste better there. Close to Israel’s main water sources, it is one of the greenest areas of the country with numerous hiking trails nearby. In fact, after walking Nahal Amud with friends we stopped here for a late afternoon lunch to enjoy mezze, cheese platters and local olive oil.

Website and additional information: Ein Camonim

Which ever goat farm you decide to visit, don’t make the mistake we did.  Two weeks ago we decided to go on a little hike (a little hike by my family’s definition is 18 km) after a picnic breakfast we purchased from Naot and Kornmehl. My body switched to deep siesta mode after gorging on all that cheese. It was all I could do not collapse on the sand and hibernate for a 24 hours.

Not enough cheese for you?
Israel’s Boutique Dairy Tour- The Jerusalem Hills

An Israeli Breakfast at Tel Shahar Dairy and Restaurant

Next on my list?

Kadosh Dairy in Safed and Goats with the Wind Farm.

Red lentil kibbeh is the outlier of the Middle Eastern dumplings. It bears little resemblance to its name sake. Who bestowed it with such a prestigious title? What does it have in common with the sleek, crispy bulgur shells stuffed with cinnamon scented meat? Or the turmeric colored semolina patties simmering in aromatic vegetable soup?

According to Israeli food writer, Gili Halfteck, these are vegetarian kibbeh nayeh, the term used by Aleppian Jews. This comparison might not be immediately obvious since the ingredients, preparation and sometimes even the plating of these two foods differs so greatly.  Kibbeh nayeh, meaning raw, is prepared with uncooked ground lamb or beef- a Levantine steak tartar, while red lentil kibbeh consists mainly of lentils boiled until soft. However both contain bulgur and are flavored with fresh and dried herbs- parsley, green onions, mint- with a similar hue and texture.

While red lentil kibbeh is popular in Turkey, Syria and Lebanon, it is a rarity in Israel. Jews from Aleppo continue to prepare it in their homes but I have yet to see it on restaurant menus.  My first introduction to these unusual kibbeh was from a Turkish cookbook where it was listed as mercimek köftesi or red lentil kofte (patties). Stripped of its family name, I didn’t make a connection to their more famous relatives until I stumbled upon a Lebanese version in Joumana’s Taste of Beirut blog.

With the migration of people between borders, the origin of these lentil kofte, as with many foods, is difficult to determine. Lebanon, for example, once was part of the Ottoman Dynasty and is now home to many citizens of Turkish ancestry who brought their cooking style with them. In time, regional variations evolved, influenced by the local cuisine. Poopa Dweck, author of Aromas of Aleppo has a recipe which includes tomato paste, Aleppo pepper and tamarind concentrate while in Turkey pepper paste is popular.  Joumana uses orange zest and cumin which lends an intriguing complexity to the earthiness of the lentils.

Red Lentil Kibbeh

I adopted this recipe from Joumana’s Taste of Beirut where she includes a regional spice mix called kammooneh. Instead of serving these kibbeh “raw” I’ve shaped them into small patties and baked them on high to add crunch. They are best right out of the oven. Serve these kibbeh, whether baked or not, with a copious amount of greens such as lettuce, mint, coriander and parsley.

1 ½ cups red split lentils, washed and drained

¾ cup bulgur, extra fine

3 cups water

1 tablespoon orange zest

1 teaspoon cumin, ground

1 large onion, finely chopped

2-3 tablespoons of olive oil

3 tablespoons parsley, finely chopped

Salt

In a small pot add the lentils and water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until the lentils are soft and have changed color. If the lentils thicken and begin to stick to the bottom pour in more water, ½ cup at a time. Remove from heat. Add the bulgur and stir until evenly combined. Let sit for a few minutes so the grains absorb the extra moisture.  At this point the lentils and bulgur mixture should be thick enough to hold its shape without crumbling. If the mixture is still watery, gently heat it to evaporate the extra liquid or alternatively add a few tablespoons of water to keep it from crumbling.

While the lentils are cooking heat the olive oil in a pan and add the chopped onions. Sautee until the onions are golden.

Preheat oven to 200⁰C (392⁰ F). Add the onions and the rest of the ingredients to the lentils and mix until combined.

With wet hands form small patties and place on a parchment lined baking tray. Place in the oven for 15 minutes or until the patties turn (even more) golden. Flip to cook opposite side.  Serve with yogurt with herbs- I added fennel fronds, parsley and coriander- or dipped in a mixture of pomegranate syrup and olive oil.

{Above: Meet our new pet, Lila, meaning night, who hops about our house. She’s rather fond of tabouleh}

For all the kibbeh lovers out there, I’ve created a kibbeh (kubbeh, kubbah) pinterest board. Take a look at the amazing variety!