Another Rainy Day

Another Rainbow...

And if you look closely, there is a secondary rainbow
Glowing gently on the right.

Two for one!

Quick & Easy

This isn't necessarily the most interesting dinner,
but it is definitely as the title suggests.

It was cold and rainy outside when I decided to make dinner. Cold always makes me crave carbs, and so I decided to make one of the easiest pastas there is... Spaghetti ali oli, or spaghetti with olive oil and garlic. This is not the sort of food you eat before going out on a late night date, and neither is it an optional thing - either everybody eats it or nobody does - garlic is a very powerful thing when it is the main flavouring. But this is yummy, quick, easy and you can adjust it up or down accordingly.

Spaghetti Ali Oli
Makes 2 servings

I am putting this note first so that you don't discover after you have thrown the pasta water out that you should have saved at least a generous cup it to add at the end, . The butter & olive oil end up emulsifying with the water and turning into a sauce.

• spaghetti or spaghettini (the thinner stuff )
  - angel hair is probably too thin for this though)
• 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
• 4 cloves garlic crushed (at least - depends on how daring you are)
• 1 tbsp butter
• 1/4 c chopped parsley - this helps to combat the garlic breath
• Salt & pepper to taste
• Nutmeg (optional - I like it, so I use it - freshly grated by preference)
• Parmesan cheese - finely grated & lots of it

While the spaghetti is cooking heat the olive oil gently and slowly cook the garlic in it - do not let it brown or burn, or it gets bitter.

When the spaghetti is done al dente (my trick is to take a piece out and cut it in half to see if there is still a white center in it - as soon as the white center is gone, the pasta is ready), drain it, but leave it wet - you want water. Put the butter onto the pasta, pour the oil/garlic on and sprinkle with the parsley and add salt & pepper (and nutmeg if using) to taste. Traditionally there is alot (read ALOT) more oil in this, but if you keep it wet and add some of the reserved water if necessary, then the amount of oil is kept to a (relative) minimum.

Serve with lots of parmesan and more freshly grated pepper.

And having talked about celeriac remoulade yesterday, I decided to use the rest of my beautiful bunch of celery to make a remoulade. No quantities, just the homemade mayo, spring onions, hardboiled eggs and lots of lemon zest.

Okay, they aren't the most colourful dishes, but definitely Yum!

Now I'm off to watch Bridget Jone's Diary
and slurp spaghetti...

Saturday Night Comfort

Even though it was a lovely day on Saturday,
I craved something warming and homey.

So I hit the books and came up with something that reminded me of lunch at the cafeteria when I was in university.

The first time I ever ate cornbread was back in the days when I still had the world ahead of me, and I had not even contemplated leaving Canada. This was not something that we had grown up with at home. Its crunchy texture, almost sweet flavour and sunny yellow colour, when matched with whatever soup was available, usually my all-time favourite Scotch Broth, was an instant hit with me.

But for some reason, I rarely make it. So when I do, it becomes a special occassion.

I saw the recipe in the Silver Spoon and thought
"hmmm, a cornbread cake".

But on making it I found there were a few things wrong - for one thing, the recipe calls for a scant 1/2 cup of yoghurt - and when mixed in with the 3 cups of dry ingredients it was immediately obvious that there had been a typo. So I trebled the yoghurt, and then added an extra glop inadvertently - the yoghurt container burped... And when I tasted the unbaked mixture, it was definitely not "cake" sweet. And then there was the issue of how many this would serve - the editors say it serves 6, I say it serves 12 hungry people, because of course you don't just serve this on it's own.

Yoghurt Cornbread – adapted from The Silver Spoon

• 1 1/2 c flour
• 1 1/2 c cornmeal
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 1/2 c balkan style yoghurt (the original recipe calls for 1/2 c)
• 5 tbsp neutral oil
• 2 eggs
• Thinly sliced almond paste (optional)
  (I used 2-3 oz for 1 pan – not everyone likes almonds)

Preheat oven to 350F

2 8inch cake pans well buttered and then dusted with a flour and sugar mixture

Beat eggs, oil & yoghurt, add well mixed dry ingredients.

Divide into the pans.

If using, push almond paste into the batter so that it is covered

Bake approximately 40 minutes until nicely browned and a toothpick comes out clean.

Let cool for about 5 minutes, then turn out.

In my opinion this is best eaten while still warm.

If you have used the almond paste, dust with icing sugar and serve with lightly sweetened, sloppy whipped cream or creme fraiche.

And then...

I found a gorgeous bunch of celery at the Carmel Market on Friday - after I had gone on another job interview. And it immediately called out for being made into soup.

Now here in Israel there are 3 kinds of celery. There is the traditional kind, called American here (big wide stalks that call for being stuffed or braised), this has a very "celery" flavour, which becomes milder as it cooks. The leaves are used very sparingly because they are so strongly flavoured.

There is celery root, which is lovely as a remoulade salad with homemade mayonaise and to which I add, untraditionally, chopped eggs and lots of onions and lemon zest.

And then there is soup celery, which looks rather like the scraggly stalks and leaves from the celery root. This is much milder, and is added prolificaly and uncut, to traditional chicken soup - usually a big bunch is added to 1 chicken's worth of soup. For those of you who have never encountered this type of celery, you would think that the soup would be inedible, but it adds a depth to the soup which normal American celery just doesn't manage to pull off. I actually like eat the celery after it has been cooked to almost disintegration, it is sweet and mild and doesn't resemble it's namesake at all.

And for the more esoterically minded cook, the leaves of lovage are very similar to pale green celery leaves, and can be used in the same manner as soup celery, but it has a much more intense flavour that resembles Maggi, and imparts an almost umami meatiness to the soup.

Cream of Celery Soup – adapted from The Silver Spoon

• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1tbsp butter
• 4 cups chopped celery (SS called for 3)
• 1 small onion diced
• 2 – 3 medium potatoes diced
• 1/2 stale French stick torn apart
  ('cause it was there and I thought "aha - thickening agent)
• 1 tsp chopped fresh thyme (because my post of thyme is growing out of control)
• Salt & white pepper to taste
• Water
• Lightly whipped cream, chopped thyme and finely grated parmesan for garnish.

In a large pot melt the oil and butter, add the onions & sweat them off, then add the celery and thyme and sweat them off until bright green and starting to soften.

Add potatoes and bread and cover with cold water (level should be about 2 inches above celery/potato mix). Add about 1 tsp salt.

Bring to boil and then reduce to simmer until potatoes are very soft.

Puree with immersion blender, season to taste.

Garnish with cream, thyme and parmesan.

And so, as the sun set over Jaffa, I warmed my soul with comfort food.

The Skies Opened

Today the skies opened up...
and let out all of the bathwater.

Which isn't usually a bad thing - I like rain. I even like going for walks in the rain. I admit to not particularly enjoying driving my scooter in the rain, but that is more a case of sheer self preservation. Israeli drivers are bad at the best of times, making the French and Italians seem calm and reserved, but on rainy days they seem to get perverse pleasure from swerving into the deepest puddles just so they can see how big a rooster-tail they can make. And I can sort of see the fun in that, but... not when it means swerving without looking, and cutting me off, or worse still, the guy in front of me or the guy to the side of me - who then don't look when they swerve to avoid the original maniac.

Being originally Canadian I know about dressing for the weather. I am a veritable onion, with layer after layer protecting me from the iniquities of the weather. But but occassionally we get a day like today which serves up what would be termed a tropical storm anywhere else in the world. Centimeters of rain falling in a very short time. And my layers, even though supposedly waterproof, just don't match up to the drenching I get.

And of course, the weather seems to be as contrary as the people, and instead of short sharp cloud bursts spread out over the course of the year, we have heavy rain falling for hours on end. But for only a couple of days a year. And we Israelis welcome the deluge - the rains of February have to fill up the Sea of Gallilee so that it can provide water for the country for the rest of the year.

So really, I don't mind the rain, except on days like today, when I have to get all dressed up and go for a job interview - because inevitably I will arrive literally dripping, creating puddles wherever I stand, and little trails wherever I walk. And I feel like a fool - and that doesn't make the interview process any easier...

But now I am home safe, in dry clothes, sipping my tea and enjoying the rainbow after the rain.

Interesting Encounters

I had an interesting encounter today.

It all started with a meeting I had with a business consultant from the Israel Small and Medium Enterprise Authority (an org run by the Ministry of Industry and Trade that provides assistance to new and existing businesses).

I was rather astonished to find that their offices are in the New Central Bus Station in Tel Aviv. For those of you who have never been there, this is a huge monolithic monstrosity about 6 storeys high taking up a very large city block. It is in a rather insalubrious part of town - lots of down and outs, rooming houses, foreign workers, girlie shows, the usual deal for a bus station in a major city. Not the kind of place you expect to see a government office in, but there you go, some things in Israel are a bit hard to get your head around.

The offices are, apparently, temporary, which would be a good thing for the workers - I don't know how you would describe an office environment that shakes vigorously every time a bus rumbles up the ramp to the loading bays. Unsettling for clients definitely. My advisor was a nice man who, fortunately for me, spoke very good English - for when my Hebrew failed me. He sits in an interior office with no windows and bare, whitewashed concrete walls. But that hasn't seemed to affect him. I was consulting with him regarding my future, or at least, what I hope will be my future. And he gave me several good tips. Now it is up to me to get cracking and start in on my new life. But more of that when it becomes less nebulous and more concrete.

Anyways... I decided to leave my scooter at home rather than risk it getting stolen from the bus station - which would be a very likely happening. And so, after more than 3 years of being public transportation free, I hopped on a bus. Now admittedly, here in Israel, the bus system is pretty comprehensive (if you ignore the fact that there are no public buses running from Friday evening through Saturday, and only starting to run again after sunset on Saturday night) and generally fairly reliable. So I got myself a day pass and got me on a bus.

After my meeting with the consultant, I decided to go to Diezengoff Center, wander up to Ben Yehuda street, and then go to the Carmel market.

Anemones bought at the Carmel Market

So onto the bus I hopped, and there had a strange encounter with a fellow passenger.

Now we are talking about a rather good looking young man, but with something not quite right about him. He asked me if I spoke English, introduced himself as Gabriel from Potsdam, New York and then started to ramble about pickpockets in Barcelona, and how Tel Aviv felt so safe. Then he explained that he had missed his flight and had to go back to the airport in a couple of hours to pick up his luggage, that he only had 20 shekels and would have to change into his suit.

We are talking about getting a partial life history here.

Now the strangeness about him was in his speech and mannerisms. He appeared to be... challenged or drugged or perhaps both. I suspected that perhaps he had received head injuries in some sort of accident - the suspicion arising because of a large scar along his chin and the fact that his smile (he smiled alot) was rather disconcerting as he had a major chunk of teeth missing from the side of his mouth. This suspicion was confirmed when Gabriel said that he was in Israel to visit friends courtesy of MedicAid, and that he was going to be going back to Barcelona to take a course in teaching English as a second language - also sponsored by MedicAid.

The point of this course was so he could go to Jakarta to teach. When I commented that the region wasn't exactly politically stable and also happened to have the highest population of Muslims in the world, this obviously Jewish young man smiled (again) and said "Oh that won't be a problem, I'm Muslim". Which put me in my place.

But I wonder how much of the encounter was real and how much was a figment of his imagination?