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Beaujolais Nouveau

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.

Religious ruptures

With Jerusalem debating the efficacies and realities of the city’s haredim rioting against the opening of the Intel factory on Shabbat, talk at the water cooler on this first day of the work week revolved around this latest turn in the Shabbat riots.

The riots were reportedly peaceful, but as one coworker of mine commented, “How peaceful is it to head to a riot after shul on Shabbat?”

Can’t argue with that. I personally like to head home for some whisky and olives on Shabbat afternoon.

According to a survey taken by Hiddush, an NGO promoting religious freedom and equality in Israel (and headed by Rabbi/lawyer Uri Regev, who used to head the Reform movement in Israel), 76 percent of Jewish Israelis – and 93% of secular Israelis – believe haredi rabbis are spearheading religion-inspired conflicts in an effort to advance partisan haredi interests, and only 24% of the 500 polled believe that recent riots are inspired by love of Israel and the wellbeing of society.

This isn’t the first time that an Intel factory in Israel is working on Shabbat, but it is a newly revamped Jerusalem Intel plant that is manufacturing a certain kind of chip, which requires non-stop production. Given that Jerusalem is a city lacking jobs and industry, the presence of Intel is a boon, and one that clearly, no one wants to lose. At the same time, it’s not too pleasant dealing with religious hatred on a regular basis.

And so, against this background, I happened to end up at the Haredim photography exhibit in Beit Avi Chai, originally shown at the Eretz Israel Museum, with photos by Menahem Kahana of Haredim in all walks and situations of life, from synagogue rituals and family gatherings to celebrations, funerals and yes, demonstrations, from over the last ten years.

The curator is Alex Levac, winner of the Israel Prize for photography. Worth seeing and thinking about.

Stage mom

I became a stage mother this week. Through a series of amusing connections and events (my babysitter’s younger sister has a starring role in an Israeli television show, Room Service, and the casting director asked her mother if she knew any babies in Jerusalem who could be cast in a new Eran Riklis film), my boys are two of the babies in Eran Riklis’s latest movie, Human Resources.

Set in Jerusalem, and based on the 2004 A.B. Yehoshua book, The Mission of the Human Resources Manager, it’s about a human resources manager in a big Jerusalem bakery during the dark days of the second intifada. A Russian worker dies in a suicide bombing attack and when no one claims her body, he has to take her back to Russia.

Filming is taking place in Jerusalem and Romania, and we were part of the Jerusalem filming, which was set in the ghost-town like atmosphere of the Schneller Army base, in the Geula neighborhood. Our boys’ film father was Mark Ivanir, a Russian-born actor who came to Israel in 1972 and now splits his time between Israel and the U.S. Eran Riklis, the director and a big bear of a guy, was genial enough with the babies, although a tad confused about what 12-month-olds are supposed to be doing. He wanted them to crawl, but also sit quietly in an infant seat; start working at 4:30 in the afternoon, and go strong until 8 pm. And when I questioned whether a 12-month-old sitting in an infant seat perched on a chest was realistic (and safe), I could see the word balloons next to their mouths, saying “Overprotective American mother!”

We worked it out, the boys cooperated for the most part, and now we just sit tight and wait for the movie premiere, with Ziv and Lev’s names in the credits. And it’s probably safe to say that I’ll never do this again, but you never know.

EVOO Israel style

It’s olive harvest time in these parts, which I was reminded of while passing [a possibly] public grove of olive trees on King David Street, in which several Arab women were picking and harvesting the crop.

Yes, charming and amusing and a reminder of the importance of olive oil, whether EVOO or other, in these parts. Now that Israel has beefed up on its boutique wineries, olive oil is the next cottage industry to hit the commercial mainstream, and enterprising olive oil producers are doing just that.

Here’s a nice little piece about four different olive farms…and if you can’t make it out to the farm — or the patch of olive trees on King David Street — just head over to liveO/Oil of Life in Mamilla or Tel Aviv, where their Negev Desert-sourced olive oil is packaged to perfection, whether as olive oil, straight; in soaps, jams (the Pear and Vanilla Jam is particularly good), or a myriad of other products.

According to the company, liveO produces five different lines of gourmet products based on their extra virgin olive oils, Picual, Souri, Barnea, Frantoio and Manzanillo. The oils are cold pressed, classified as extra virgin, and have a level of acidity not exceeding 0.5%. The gourmet line was created by Julian Attia, a French culinary advisor, inspired by the world of wines.

If you seek your own regular source of olive oil, LiveO will deliver a quantity of olive oil to your home monthly or quarterly, for a not insignificant sum. Or, you can cure olives yourself:

Olive-curing recipe:

Collect olives by hand in a clean plastic bucket to prevent bruising.
Day 1: Wash in running water. Add boiling hot water and allow to soak for 24 hours.
Day 2: Pour off cold water add more boiling water.
Day 3: Pour off cold water add more boiling water.
Day 4: Pour off cold water. Place the olives into clean jars and add a mixture of brine and white (or any other type) vinegar in the proportions of 3 to 1 by volume.

Brine = 10%w/v salt in water that is 100grams/litre of final solution

Fill jars well and add a layer of olive oil.

liveO: Mamilla Avenue, Jerusalem / 21 Rothschild Blvd., Tel Aviv

Going to the zoo

I’ve been waiting for the right moment to introduce my baby boys to the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo, and given that their ears perk up every time they hear a dog bark, bird chirp or see a bird cross their path, I figured the time had come. Enough with reading about animals and faking a tiger’s snarl; we had to actually see some live animals.

The wait was well worth it — as is the annual membership which varies for singles, couples, couples with one child, two children, etc. — as they were equally enthusiastic about all the animals we saw, from ducks and flamingos to meerkats and yes, a couple of tigers. They both were slightly flipped out by the goats who swarmed their stroller in the ‘pinat chai’ (petting zoo), one trying to grab the remnant of Lev’s cookie out of his small fist. But once the goats butted out, it was on to bigger thrills, like stroking a sheep and watching turtles crawl around their enclosure.

The choices of animals to visit seems endless on that first trip to the zoo — elephants! zebras! monkeys! And what I also liked is the coexistence effect of the place; on a Thursday morning, the place was pleasantly full with ultra Orthodox boys on a school trip, Arab elementary school children in their red sweater uniforms, also on a school trip, as well as Arab high schoolers and similarly-aged Jewish high school kids. And just to prove the zoo’s coexistence effect, all signs next to the animals’ enclosures are written in Hebrew, Arabic, English and, often, Yiddish.

30seczoo01.MP3We’re [all] going to the zoo…

Bayit banamal

I’m not the first to write about Tel Aviv’s namal, the refurbished port/boardwalk at the northern end of the city. And I must confess a ‘hubati’ (read below) love for strolling along its wooden planks, hillocked in some places to encourage kids on scooters, bikes and skateboards, and with just the right kind of cafes and restaurants along its length. (Although, as my mother pointed out recently, there are not enough benches for just sitting and looking at the sea.)

(’Hubatim’ or a ‘hubati’ — pronounced cho-BA-tim — is someone or those from Holon/Bat Yam. It’s a tongue-in-cheek/somewhat derogatory term for the Tel Aviv version of the bridge-and-tunnel crowd, those who don’t actually live in Tel Aviv, but come in from the outskirts to enjoy ‘the big city.’ Another TLV friend of mine has a kindly term for those of us who don’t live in the Big Orange, ‘ambassadors and diplomats.’)

This isn’t an entry about hubatim, however, rather about a societal development that I noticed at the namal. Sure, it’s got the shopping, the restaurants, the event halls and bars. But during the day, besides the ‘ambassadors and diplomats’ strolling along the boardwalk, as well as the tourists and unexplained working-age people who are hanging out rather than working — btw, they must be freelancers — there are many, many moms with babies, pushing strollers and carrying babes in slings. Sure, it’s a nice place to stroll when you’ve got a kvetchy ankle-biter. And the Israeli commercial network is clearly starting to feed into that trend, with a Steimatzky’s for kids, a Shilav (of course), including a lovely playground outside the store, and Dyada, a kind of club for babies and their parents.

It’s all quite baby-friendly, which is a helpful thing when you’re trying to negotiate the real world from the vantage point of a double stroller loaded with two one-year-olds. Then again, all they really wanted to do was crawl after the seagulls.

Photo credit: Debbie Zimelman

Dead Sea skin

Israel may be bereft of natural resources, a common complaint when talking about water and land — okay, yes, that is a problem — but we do have the Dead Sea…and you can’t beat that combo of minerals.

It seems the Export Institute has realized just how unique our minerals are, and has arranged ‘dozens of meetings’ for a collection of Dead Sea cosmetics companies during a two-day marathon at New York City’s Pennsylvania Hotel. The companies attending include B4U, Biscol, Canaan Chic Cosmetic, InterCosma, Odeyah, Paloma Dead Sea, Sea of Spa – Dead Sea, Spa Cosmetics and Spider Pharm Industries.

The Israel Manufacturers Association has even developed a quality label for genuine Dead Sea products, with the aim of discerning between the original DS cosmetics manufacturers and the frauds, or in more genteel terms, pirate industry. According to sources at the Manufacturers Association, the companies that produce genuine Dead Sea products, such as mud, lotions and creams have to prove that the source of their products is the Dead Sea and not some random body of water…and that it contains the rich combo of minerals that makes the Dead Sea a source of skin rejuvenation and vitality.

If you’re in NYC, check out the Dead Sea folk at the PA Hotel, just through tomorrow. And back home, consider some Dead Sea cream for that dry skin on the heels of your feet. It’ll do the trick.

Accessorize it

There are now so many accessory designers in Israel that they have their own fair. If you’re in need of a new handbag, belt, jewelry, scarf and whatever else qualifies as a clothing item that adds to your overall outfit, head to the ‘Accessories Shuk’ this weekend, Thursday through Shabbat, October 29-31, at Ganei Hataarucha in Tel Aviv.

With discounts of 20%-30% on the current season, and 60%-80% on previous seasons, deals are clearly to be had. And while I don’t know all the designers who will be present, I can tell you that Or Forbin, whose line of jewelry, Eva Teffner — named for her grandmother — will be there, and she offers some extremely clever and affordable costume jewels. She uses elements of collage, printing on metal and then incorporating that into the earrings, pendants and pins that are part of her inventory.

Cooperative ceramics

The Israeli concept of cooperative kibbutz living may have been dealt a death knell, or, at the very least, signs of retirement over the last ten years, but the artist cooperative is alive, well and thriving.

For the uninitiated, the artist cooperative, often materialized in Israel as a ceramicists’ cooperative, is a group of artists who join together to rent a storefront and sell their creations. From what I’ve gleaned from my internet research — namely, not a whole lot — there are such cooperatives all over the world, although Israel seems to possess a large number of them. I like to think that’s because of our communal way of thinking, in which the thought is that it’s always better to work together than apart.

In any case, I stumbled upon yet another ceramists’ cooperative in Machane Yehuda the other week, Pri HaAdama (Fruit of the Earth), which features the work of 14, yes, 14, different ceramicists. The collection is wonderful, with many pieces to choose from and at surprisingly low prices.

While I’m at it, I’ll mention two other favorite ceramic cooperatives, Shmone B’Yachad, or Eight Altogether, at 8 Yoel Solomon Street in Jerusalem’s Nachalat Shiva neighborhood, downtown. The other fave is Shlush Shloshim in Neve Tzedek, Tel Aviv, on 30 Shlush Street (You can find Marcelle Klein’s work there).

Spontaneous Thriller

So, have you seen that video of Oprah opening her 24th season with a ’spontaneous dance’/'flash mob dance’ along Chicago’s Magnificent Mile? If you haven’t,

Story is that her staff — and 20,000 people — pulled off the surprise, for Oprah, of performing a choreographed piece to the Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling.” And now this kind of spontaneous dance is becoming a worldwide trend, one which, natch, is making its way to Israel.

Several production companies and the City of Tel Aviv-Yafo are putting on their own spontaneous dance to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” scheduled for next Friday, October 30, at 12:30 in Dizengoff Square (the one with the Agam fountain at the middle).

If you want to participate, however, you gotta learn the dance, and by that I mean the dance steps to ‘Thriller,’ those danced by the moondancing maniac Michael Jackson. You have just one week:

 

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