Nostalgia Sunday – Turkey Feeder
Filed under: A New Reality, Food, General, History and Culture, Holidays, Immigrant Moments, Life, Nostalgia Sunday
You would think that Thanksgiving would be a more popular holiday here, given the size of the poultry-breeding industry and the large quantities of turkey meat Israelis consume. Yes, Israel has the highest per capita consumption of turkey in the world at 28.8 pounds annually.
But no, Thanksgiving remains an obscure oddity to Israelis, one quirk among the many exhibited by the “Ameri-kooky” population here. No matter. On one day a year, we celebrate the United States and all the good things it has done and continues to do. We also, as do our Stateside counterparts, stuff ourselves silly with… well, stuffing, sweet potatoes, and, of course, a big roasted bird.
Many of us who worked on kibbutzim as volunteers in the 60s, 70s and 80s, had the dubious pleasure of dealing with turkeys who are, bluntly put, the stupidest of birds. Yes, it’s true, they will look up in a rainstorm and drown themselves. They do peck one another to death. And one of the worst jobs one could get was an all night shift to vaccinate them – the only saving grace was that you were allowed to sleep late the next morning.
And yet, amidst all the stink and squalor of the turkey house, one element stood out, a modern design so strong it could not be ignored. These were the water dispensers manufactured by the Plasson company. Every few meters or so there hung a bowler hat-shaped “bell waterer” made of red plastic that was well-nigh indestructible — try though we might. They were a symbol of Israel’s agri-technological prowess — Plasson has set the worldwide industry standard for 30 years now — and those rosy sawed-off globes glowing under the bright turkey house lights at midnight were a somehow beautiful sight.
Nostalgia Sunday – Stuff we had to do without
Filed under: General, History and Culture, Holidays, Immigrant Moments, Life, Nostalgia Sunday

Back in the old days, children, not so very long ago, newly-arrived American immigrants to this dry and barren country could not buy chocolate chips for love or money.
Desperate for the foods of our native land, we took matters into our own hands. We made chocolate chips from what was available locally, stuffing a few Elite “cow” chocolate bars into a plastic bag and bashing away with a hammer. From the shards and cocoa dust, we fashioned cookies.
Moreover, there was no peanut butter. And so, we learned to roast and grind peanuts into a paste in our newly purchased 220v blenders (adding a half-cup of oil would prevent blade getting stuck in mid-grind).
There was no cream cheese to put on the New York bagels that in any case we did not have. Once again, ingenuity prevailed; we mixed one cup of yogurt with one cup of soft white cheese, hung the liquid in a cheesecloth bag over the sink and hoped for the best.
But perhaps our worst deprivation at this season, dear children, was the lack of cranberry sauce.
Emissaries were dispatched to bring us cans of the stuff. Sometimes they arrived, and sometimes they arrived bearing Tasters Choice instant coffee as well.
And when they did, it was surely a time for thanksgiving.












