The personal eating habits of Israelis
Filed under: A New Reality, Business, Food, General, health, Israeliness, Life
‘What is there to eat?” is a common refrain in our household. And it seems to get harder and harder to find new, innovative dishes to make, as we continue to rely on old standbys. It looks like we’re not alone, as a recent study reveals.
According to statistics compiled for the Federation of Israeli Chambers of Commerce,
Israelis are quite unadventurous in their eating habits. Milk is the most sold product in Israel with sales totaling about $303,214 million in 2009, which marks a 1.7% drop compared to last year. The study was based on 1,500 points of sale examined between the months of January and October, compared to the same period last year.
Coca Cola was the top soft drink in Israeli shelves, with sales totaling $118.4 million – a 2.1% drop compared to last year. According to the Ynet report on the study, bottled water recorded a sharper decline – 6.1%, mainly due to the pollution in the sources of water, which hurt two of the economy’s leading companies.
Dairy products and chicken top the list of what Israelis like to eat. Yogurt products were the biggest sellers, with $251 million being spent. But the biggest jump was in cottage cheese, in which a 10.1% rise was reported. Israelis also spent $231 million on chicken, a
2.6% rise compared to last year.
Other popular products were packaged spreads, like humous – $159.5 million, eggs – $135 million), soft white cheese – $118 million, and hard yellow cheese, which recorded an 8.4% rise in sales. Canned tuna also was more popular, with a 6.1% increase.
But if it seems like we eat relatively healthy, Israelis are certainly not forgetting their ‘sweet’ and ‘salty’ tooth. Salty snacks, like Bamba, which one man last week even broke into a convenience store to steal, set Israelis back $165.5 million) – down 1.6% compared to last year. Sweet snacks however saw a 3.4% rise.
So, I guess my household is within the realm of the average Israeli food consumer – lots of eggs, cheeses and chicken – and a fair share of Bamba. So why do I still keep hearing that refrain, ‘what is there to eat?”
Foto Friday – Edward Kaprov helps splice the ends
Filed under: Art, Foto Friday, General, Pop Culture, Religion
Splicing the Ends is the name of a new art exhibition that opens next week, November 28th, at the Amiad Center in Old Jaffa. Over the past two years, Amiad has emerged as a unique center for the arts in Jaffa’s newly revived Flea Market area, now a hot nightlife spot for Tel Aviv’s young bohemian set.
According to the organizers, the exhibit celebrates the winter season festivals for the three major monotheistic religions — Hannuka, Christmas and Eid ul Fitr — by “telling the story of mankind through the different religions… exploring the themes of immigration, living as an individual and as part of a community, and how one relates to oneself and to one’s environment.”
The show features works by over 30 painters, sculptors and photographers , including Edward Kaprov. A veteran immigrant to Israel from the former Soviet Union, Kaprov has worked with Israel’s biggest newspapers including business daily Globes, Haaretz and Yedioth Aharonot. His features have been published by National Geographic, GEO, and Russian Newsweek as well as other publications.

His work on display in “Splicing the Ends” deals with how religion informs day-to-day life in Israel, whether in the army…

…at a soup kitchen for hungry children…

…motivating political protest…

Kaprov’s work ranges from news and commercial photography to personal projects, including a series on Shamanism in Israel.
Splicing the Ends runs from November 28 through December 21 at the Amiad Center. A portion of the proceeds from the exhibit will go to ILAN, Israel’s Foundation for the Handicapped.
Giving insurance companies an (even worse) name
Filed under: A New Reality, Business, Crime, General, Israeliness, Life
This is about as mundane a subject as is out there, but it certainly reflects that the reality of living in Israel has very little to do with the headlines most people read, and more to do with the trials and tribulations we all face no matter where we live.
I wrote a few weeks ago about the hassles of making an insurance claim after being sideswiped in a traffic accident. Well, it all seemingly worked out well, and yesterday – less than two weeks of laying out over $1,000 to fix the car and sending in the claim to the insurance company (Migdal, in case anybody is interested, one of the country’s biggest insurance companies) – I received a check in the mail.
Hurray for a victory over Israeli bureaucracy, right? Not quite. The check was made out for the amount of the claim, minus 10%. An accompanying letter stated that the deduction was due to ‘contributing negligence’ on my part.
WTF? Now, a quick recap. I was driving down a road in Jerusalem in the Romema industrial area. My nemesis wanted to turn right onto my road from a small side street with a stop sign. After stopping and supposedly looking both ways, she turned right and clomped into my right back door as I was driving, minding my own business.
Was this 10% contributing negligence? I think not. Luckily Migdal’s claim manager’s name and number were on the letter, so I called her- and got through to her! I explained to her that I was not even one percent responsible for the accident, and when I asked her to explain her reasoning, she said, “do you even know the traffic rules? Do you know that at any intersection with a stop sign, that the driver with the right of way has a responsibility to slow down?”
I said I was not aware of that rule, and that even the driver of the other car, whom she insures, admitted to being 100% responsible for the accident.
“Well, that’s what I decided. There are some claims I take off 50% for negligence, I only took 10% off of yours,” she said.
“But you weren’t even there. You don’t know what happened,” I answered.
“So what? That’s the way it is.”
I realized that this was a futile conversation and ended it, and also realized it was a pathetic attempt by Migdal to save a few measly hundred shekels by bullying and shortchanging innocent victims of accidents.
So, if you ever get hit by another driver, and think that you’re going to receive complete reimbursement for the damages rendered, you might be better off settling with the driver without involving the cheating, conniving insurance companies.
Beaujolais Nouveau
Filed under: Food, General, History and Culture, Holidays, Israeliness
If it’s the third Thursday in November, that means it’s a) the Thursday before Thanksgiving and more importantly, b) the arrival of Beaujolais Nouveau, the first wine of the harvest. Drunk when the wine is still young and fresh, the million cases of Beaujolais Nouveau that are shipped from France worldwide each November has become a wine world ritual, and one that is also, of course, celebrated in Israel.
For me, it marks my friend Andrew’s annual party, which he revolves around Beaujolais Nouveau, hounding his local wine stores to be sure that he’ll have enough cases to keep his friends happy. It’s sort of like my annual Thanksgiving bash, for which I order my turkey within plenty of time to thaw it and roast it for my turkey eaters. In another sense, it’s our way of keeping track and abreast of the world out there, and not getting too lost in the ways of our adopted country.
So here’s to young red wine drinking this evening — or tomorrow and through the weekend — and we’ll talk about Thanksgiving next week.
(And a little more explaining about Beaujolais Nouveau:)
AT ONE MINUTE PAST MIDNIGHT on the third Thursday of each November, from little villages and towns like Romanèche-Thorins, over a million cases of Beaujolais Nouveau begin their journey through a sleeping France to Paris for immediate shipment to all parts of the world. Banners proclaim the good news: Le Beaujolais Nouveau est arrivé! “The New Beaujolais has arrived!” One of the most frivolous and animated rituals in the wine world has begun.
By the time it is over, over 65 million bottles, nearly half of the region’s total annual production, will be distributed and drunk around the world. It has become a worldwide race to be the first to serve to this new wine of the harvest. In doing so, it has been carried by motorcycle, balloon, truck, helicopter, Concorde jet, elephant, runners and rickshaws to get it to its final destination. It is amazing to realize that just weeks before this wine was a cluster of grapes in a growers vineyard. But by an expeditious harvest, a rapid fermentation, and a speedy bottling, all is ready at the midnight hour.
Beaujolais Nouveau began as a local phenomenon in the local bars, cafes, and bistros of Beaujolais and Lyons. Each fall the new Beaujolais would arrive with much fanfare. In pitchers filled from the growers barrels, wine was drunk by an eager population. It was wine made fast to drink while the better Beaujolais was taking a more leisurely course. Eventually, the government stepped into regulate the sale of all this quickly transported, free-flowing wine.
In 1938 regulations and restrictions were put in place to restrict the where, when, and how of all this carrying on. After the war years, in 1951, these regulations were revoked by the region’s governing body—the Union Interprofessional des Vins de Beaujolais (UIVB)—and the Beaujolais Nouveau was officially recognized. The official release date was set for November 15th. Beaujolais Nouveau was officially born. By this time, what was just a local tradition had gained so much popularity that the news of it reached Paris. The race was born. It wasn’t long thereafter that the word spilled out of France and around the world. In 1985, the date was again changed, this time to the third Thursday of November tying it to a weekend and making the celebration complete. But wherever the new Beaujolais went, importers had to agree not to sell it before midnight on the third Thursday of November.
Apart from the fanfare, what makes Beaujolais Nouveau so popular? And especially in the U.S. where consumption of red wine is less than 30%? Simply put, Beaujolais Nouveau is as about as close to white wine as a red wine can get. Due to the way it is made—the must is pressed early after only three days—the phenolic compounds, in particular the astringent tannins, normally found in red wines, isn’t there, leaving an easy to drink, fruity wine. This, coupled with the fact that it tastes best when chilled, makes for a festive wine to be gulped rather than sipped, enjoyed in high spirits rather than critiqued. As a side note, it makes a great transitional wine for anyone wanting to move from white to red wines.
Finally, the race from grape to glass may be silly, but half the fun is knowing that on the same night, in homes, cafes, restaurants, pubs, bars and bistros around the world, the same celebration is taking place. It hasn’t the pedigree to be a classic wine, but it is always good. Any other opinion you may regard as boorish and uninformed.
Room 124
Israeli bureaucratic institutions have been slowly but surely modernizing over recent years. You can get in and out of the infamous Interior Ministry in less than a day…and you don’t have to line up at 8:00 AM just to shove your way in through the heavily guarded front door.
The health funds now have computerized kiosks that print out the name of the doctor, his or her room number and the time of your appointment; a flat screen monitor tells you when it’s your turn.
Ditto with the banks and the post office where you can now kick your feet up and relax while you wait for your number to flash.
The tide of advancement, however, has apparently not yet washed over the shores of the Education Ministry which, naturally, is exactly where I had to be yesterday. I have been considering taking a tour guiding course; to be admitted I needed to have my non-Israeli diploma officially “approved.”
The Education Ministry’s building is a formidable mass; a wide arching wall of concrete with identical small window slats all facing towards a forlorn courtyard. Once inside, a spiral staircase winds its way to “Room 124″ – a tiny cubicle of an office where a lone clerk sits to satisfy the academic supplicants’ demands.
There is no brightly-lit waiting room, just a scattering of chairs along the walls and up against the staircase railing. To the Ministry’s credit, there is an old-fashioned paper number dispenser; when I first made aliyah 15 years ago, you just plopped yourself down and asked “who’s last?” A fight would inevitably ensue when someone arrived late and claimed that he or she was “here earlier” and was “after” some naive looking stranger who quickly disavowed any knowledge of the presumptuous intruder.
There were 17 people ahead of me – a true melting pot of Israeli immigrant society. I heard smatterings of foreign tongues – Russian, Arabic, French, Spanish, and of course English.
When my turn finally came – after an hour and a half wait – I braced myself for an abrupt confrontation with Israeli officialdom. To my surprise, my clerk was a bundle of buoyancy. When she started speaking to me in English rather than Hebrew, I asked where she was from. “Albania.”
What a pleasant turn of events: the woman in charge of the immigrants was an immigrant herself. As my forms were duly stamped, we traded travel stories. She told me that you can fly to Turkey and rent a car to drive to Albania by way of Bulgaria and Macedonia.
Maybe I should think about leading such Mediterranean road trips. After all, I now have the stamp of approval from the Ministry of Education.












