Shuck You

Obviously moving to Tel Aviv was a big life changing decision, which I impulsively made in a matter of moments. The Israeli culture is different and culture shock is a good thing for a young lady to experience before diving into the deep end of the real world and pretending to be normal thereafter.

It's not something I am proud of but grocery shopping at home consisted of a trip to Whole Foods, Starbucks in hand, taking a leisurely stroll through the produce isle. If I ever needed to stop mid-convo about why the avocados were moved in order for me to check a text than it was totally kosher.

I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy snacking on some sushi while ordering my pre-made home cooked meals. Occasionally eyeing for a cute yuppy in a suit taking an organic lunch break from the hedge fund. Coincidentally the scouting is mutual and the yuppies in Whole Foods are scouting for lululemon pants with thin calves.

At Whole Foods, where everybody knows your name, it is easy to feel right at home.

 **Aside from the time I was creating my own salad for lunch. I was asking the young lady who was helping me her deepest honest opinions about every topping I chose for my salad, specifically her thoughts on garbanzo beans meshing well with fresh salmon.

Elated in our new found friendship over  salad accouterment, I blurted out, "I love how we are doing this team effort thing!"

It was then that I received the worst stink eye that I had ever seen. Aisha took one step back, snarled half her lip, raised one eyebrow but opened both of her eyes widely.

"AFRICAN!?" she shouted with a definite inflection.
"What!?" I snapped back in efforts to stay on her level of mood and volume, maybe distract the awkwardness.
"What did you just say to me!?" She snapped again, efforts to distract; failed.
"Group effort thing? What did you think I said?" knowingly innocent and trying to half laugh off the misunderstanding.
"Oh nevermind."

The rest of our salad making experience was uncomfortable. I chose not to push my luck and refrained from asking her if her three inch hot pink glittery nails were real although I was dying to know. **

In Israel, we do not grocery shop at organic health marts, we go to the Shuk which is a giant open market in which street vendors sell their produce in any organized fashion that they choose. It is not organized by theme such as dairy or produce and there are no expiration dates or price tags stuck onto the food. In the Shuk you feel right at home if you are hummus, or a stray cat.

Haggling for groceries is something I never thought I would have the chance to do. Usually I just hand over my credit card, bend over, and accept the fact that I am getting fucked by the prices. Haggling? A real open market place? I. Was. Ecstatic...and by ecstatic I mean that I intended to just accept whatever price the vendors told me. We are all jewish. I trusted them. We are in the homeland.

Mistake 1: Don't let the food vendor man pick out the fruit you are about to purchase. When he says he is picking out e'special because you so beautiful; he is lying.
Mistake 2: Don't believe the food vendor man when he gives you e'special pretty girl low price for 3X more than you want or need. This is how you end up with a kilo o overpriced rotten figs (the 5 visible on top are good.) This is also how you end up with three broken avocados bleeding all over the ONE that you wanted.
Mistake 3: The customer turns out NOT to be always right. Toto we are not in Kansas anymore. After fighting with an Arab about the price of pistachios for about twenty minutes in my broken hebrew (my broken hebrew consists of the words "Lo" which means "no" and "boker tov" which means good morning.) I was shoed away from his tent aggressively. He may or may not have yelled "Aladdin" at me. I learned that you don't always go home with what you sought after.

I have sadly been writing to you without pistachios. However I did love the feeling of pushing through the crowd with my hands full of grocery bags feeling like a real middle eastern sabra.

I want to sound cultured and say that the smells of spices and sounds filled the entire market giving me an intoxicating sense of being alive in the middle east. I would be lying.

It is best to commit to mouth- breathing throughout the shuk. In fact, one should not breathe in through their nose until sticking it directly into a bowl of spices or herbs in order to avoid gagging from the pungent aroma of the fish market, raw meat, and epidemic of cats.

It is also imperative that while mouth breathing, never swallow a shuk fly. This is a wives tale that I just made up because swallowing flies is gross and choking and coughing in front of foreign street vendors would be embarrassing.

Additionally- the flies do not come with the food. They cost extra, so before you purchase your dates and figs, be sure that the flies crawling all over them are removed as to not get whole foods fucked on your price.

It sure ain't Dylan's Candy Bar

Monkey-ing Around

What? You don't take pictures of your own poop?

After my late night faux-paux/ Ben & Jerrys extravaganza the other night, my pre-evolutionary instincts took over and I was fixing to experience some chunky monkey all over again. I would feel worse about myself if I actually went out to buy ice cream Living overseas has put me on a budget, therefore I decided to get creative in the kitchen.

I thought, "What can I muster up in my roommates' mess of leftover groceries to cure this throbbing ape sweet tooth?"  Then I thought again- What Would Curious-George Do?
Obviously grab a banana.

Luckily for me, I live with three girls, pointing to the obvious factor that there is chocolate hidden somewhere in a high up location. Somehow females think that if they place a socially unacceptable food in a high up location, the two extra feet of gravity will create a force field keeping them away from cheating on the eating is cheating diet and making it impossible to reach by simply pulling over a chair to assist in the reach. Or more often than not, in a state of less lady like desperation, climbing up onto the countertop and taking a bite before both feet hit the ground.

I, of course, pulled the one knee up on the counter ass out monkey climb, which I justify in keeping to the theme of my dessert, to get this forbidden fruit down from the top shelf.

Into the microwave the chocolate goes along with some crumbled up peanuts, which in true primate fashion, I crushed by slamming them against the counter with the bottle of olive oil.

Rolling the bananas in the melted chocolatey peanut mixture was not an easy or pretty task. Mainly because I was eating the melted chocolate more so than applying it to my favorite phallic fruit.

After I found the will power to cover all three bananas with my poop looking mixture, I had to leave the apartment in order to control myself in not going into the freezer to indulge before they fully cooled. - GREAT CHOICE.

Cold banana with chocolate/ peanut shell is > chunky monkey any day. And free.

Granola Bandit

Yes, I am a true, loyal fat kid. However my spandex and I agreed that the "Healthy Breakfast Yogurt Parfait" was a wise choice after some poor late night dietary decisions. Including but not limited to; a painfully long pro-con list pizza vs. falafel. Pizza won not because it proved to be logically better but because it was the first food stand I found therefore throwing the list of comparisons out the window. (we will get to a logical comparison of the two super-foods at a later date.) The pizza finding was followed by a one man scavenger hunt for ice cream, could have ended in a failure if not for a 24 hour grocery mart visit and a successful chunky monkey purchase. Things would have gotten ugly had I not filled my need for a double serving of dairy after a night of heavy drinking.

This morning I thought, "what's better for a potential lactose intolerant dairy overdoes? Yogurt." And therein is where I chose the 1% yogurt with fruit, granola and date honey off the menu. After my impulsive pre-beach breakfast order, I started thinking to myself; nothing is worse than ordering a yogurt parfait and getting skimped on all the special effects. This applies to frozen yogurt and sprinkles as well. We've all had that feeling of instant disappointment and betrayal after ordering some kind of fancy bougie, "greek yogurt with home made organic granola and organic farmed freshly sliced fruit" and getting hit with a condiment sized portion of yogurt with a cube of cantaloupe floating somewhere inside or even worse when the pie filling type of blueberries are sitting on the bottom and the top of the watery yogurt is drizzled with a few measly flakes of granola.

Quite frankly I find it to be morally offensive. Who do you think you are granola nazi?
I genuinely cannot decide what I find to be more morally offensive, "yogurt parfait" robbing me of my well anticpated granola and leaving me with the lonely taste of white nothing-ness bullshit yogurt, or tuna salad turning out to be mayo coated chopped celery sitting atop a giant leaf. I am a firm believer that cantaloupe is the wal-mart of all fruits and I swear if I found one more globalized mass produced melon in my parfait, lives would have been lost.

Luckily this beautiful morning I was blessed with a breakfast happy ending. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that my "Healthy Breakfast" choice not only does not rob you of your well deserved fruit:granola:yogurt ratio but also includes a second act twist.
Under the yogurt was resting layers of pomegranate, sliced plums, grapes, almonds, and pinapples. Dannon's fruit at the bottom name was just put to shame my friends.

Aroma Healthy Breakfast, you win my and my spandex's approval for any day food.