Happy Hearts Day

A dream Valentine's Day breakfast! I took this photo last January in Ein Karem, Israel --an upscale Jerusalem suburb--where John the Baptist was born. The morning light in the beautiful Brasserie Ein Karem was gorgeous, bordering on luminous, the croissants were warm and fresh from the oven, and the cappuccino was obviously made with love. Can a picture capture a poem?

See "Glorious Eats in Israel": a story I wrote for the Minneapolis Star Tribune recently on more great food in the Land of Milk and Honey.

Israel: A Sunset and Spice Shop in Akko

 

Recently, I've been looking at paint colors for the kitchen-- and in the process discovered a whole new world. Not of colors, but of the names of the paint colors. I started in the yellows: Warm Bread, Sunday Afternoon,Pure Laughter...then I moved to the whites: Luna Moon, Restful Rain, Sugar Dust, Wind Blown. Finally, though I have no intention of painting the kitchen pink, I got into the "pinks". They were the most fun of all: Wishful Thinking, Sweet Nothing, Fading Rose, Musical Mist, Summer Memory. I could write a book with chapters like this, I decided. But what does any of this have to do with the photo for this blog entry or the real reason for this writing? It's a long convoluted way of explaining how I came about thinking of Akko in Israel.

Akko was one of those little serendipitous type places or moments: when you're least expecting something memorable--and suddenly there it is. As I was looking at the paint names back in Minneapolis, my mind wandered (as its nature) and I started thinking about Akko and if I were naming it a paint color...what color would it be? Part of it was the setting, obviously--it was going on sunset when I arrived there--with the sun's rays shining below a cloud, the waves crashing in to the wall (it was not a beach), a lighthouse in the distance, ships on the horizon. Alas! My blog picture does not do it justice--because you can't feel the cool sea air, or hear the waves. But that's not the whole picture. The other part of Akko was the spice shop I visited, which has been there for several generations.

At Akko, there is a wonderful market and one of its entry points (from the port) is through a tunnel. Cut in natural stone, it was once used by the ancient Templars who guarded European pilgrims arriving in the Holy Land to visit holy places. That's a "trip" in itself--but once inside, the herb, spice, and coffee house I was headed to, turned out to be like from a dream. It made me think of a quote from Kipling: "The place was packed as full of smells as a bale is of cotton." But it was not like being in a modern day Penzey's with its own array of lovely aromas; this place had a... patina of scent...if that's possible--of layers and layers of ancient herbs and spices...cardamom, curry, sumac, and cinnamon...It felt like a little magic and alot of mystery all swirled together. I could have spent hours (friends know I would have if given the opportunity). But I did the next best thing. I bought several spices. The proprietor weighed them out on a scale, packaged them up with labels, and explained how to store and use them: store in glass, sprinkle with a spoon. He gave me a quick lesson on how to make the hot curry (a glass of orange juice is key).

I haven't tried the curry yet--but every morning since I've been home, I have made myself toast sprinkled with sugar and some of the cardamom I bought there. It never fails to transport me back to that shop--a time travel place--full of past and present--and all the other women who once shopped there, or still do--cooking up meals, and memories. Meantime, I still haven't come up with a "color name" that aptly describes Akko.

 

 

 

Israel: Ilana Goor museum

The ilana Goor museum was a delight--and one of the most unusual art museums I have ever visited.
Pure joy.