Sweet Potato Gnocchi

I am a huge Tasty fan – you know – those fun, short food videos on Buzzfeed.

Heck – I am a huge Buzzfeed fan. I can spend hours on that site, laughing my head off at the hilarious lists with the wonderful tweets, instagram moments etc. I also get Netflix recommendations from there and awesome gift ideas as well.

But my favorite Buzzfeed page is the food page – even before it was “Tasty” #oldschool

Anyway, I’m not a big gnocchi fan, but the hubby and I are trying to cut back on the meat. We do not need to eat it every day. And we went to his sister’s house one day way last year and she made gnocchi from scratch – a new revelation for me. It was gluten free and tasted good. And then a year later, I saw a post on Tasty on how to make gnocchi. But little me, I can’t just take a recipe and make it as-is. I dreamt a recipe up for sweet potato gnocchi, infused with rosemary and cooked in butter and sage.

Of course, when I woke up, I decided that butter and sage would not be “saucy” enough for my liking – and where is the room to put in a jalapeno? (I put jalapenos in everything. You can feel free to exclude them from any recipe in here – but I recommend trying it with!).

And so the Sweet Potato Gnocchi in Spicy Pesto idea was born.

The sweet potatoes are more watery and mushy than regular potatoes and therefore took more flour than in the original Tasty recipe. I also used gluten free flour – and that just acts differently from normal, wonderful wheat flour.

Alright here goes:

Ingredients:

2 large sweet potatoes

2 cups GF flour (try 1.5 regular flour and add as needed) – you’ll need more flour to dust your rolling space and cover your hands with as you shape them.

1 large egg

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

1/4 tsp nutmeg

1 pinch hot red chilli flakes

Sauce:

1 jalapeno

Pesto sauce (I used store bought this time)

Suggestions for other sauces: saute in butter and rosemary or butter and sage.

Instructions:

1. Boil the sweet potatoes until they are soft and you can easily poke them with a fork (About 30-45 minutes)
2. Pour out the water and let the sweet potatoes cool (About 15 min)
3. Peel the sweet potatoes (after they are cooked, their peel just slides right off!)
4. Mash the sweet potatoes
5. Add in the large egg – mix well
6. Add in the spices – mix well
7. Add in the flour – mix well
8. Add in some more flour and don’t mix. Flour some counter space for the rolling and the cutting. Dust your hands with flour too.
9. Pick up some sweet potato mixture and roll into thin snakes (about 1 cm width – length doesn’t really matter as you’ll be cutting it). Spread the snakes out onto your dusted floury counter and cut them about a centimeter along the width.
   1. Once you cut along the snake – you’ll get little pillows of uncooked gnocchi. You can shape your gnocchi however you want. I like to roll the little pillows on the back of a fork to give them a fun shape. You can also poke a little indent into the pillow with your thumb.
10. Boil water in a large pot with some salt in it. Make sure the pot is filled 3/4 of the way with water.
11. Throw your gnocchis into the boiling water. They are done when they float to the top. Use a large spoon with holes in it to fish them out. Put them on a plate on the side.
    1. They should cook up in about 1-2 minutes
12. Heat up a saucepan with some oil in it.
13. Chop up your jalapeno and saute it in the saucepan
14. Pour the pesto onto the saucepan with the jalapeno
15. Pour in the gnocchis and saute them for approximately 2-3 minutes
16. Serve hot in a bowl.
    1. Serving recommendation: Feta Cheese and Parmesan cheese on top!

Enjoy!

 

Makes ~4 Servings

This is the first time I’ve written a recipe  – so please let me know how it goes!! Give me feedback so that I can tweak and perfect my recipe writing skills!

I’ll try to get more pictures along the way next time too, to help you visualize it!

Mindfulness

I hear there is an app that reminds us to be mindful. Every few minutes it has a pop up that reminds you to look around.

On one hand- I can see how that can be useful. It’s depressing to see a room full of people looking down into little screens – standing together but miles apart.
People eat dinner with their phones on the table. Which not only endangers the phone, but also the conversation. It is as if you are with the person, and possibly the 300 people on their contact list, or at least the 10-15 they are in contact with on a regular basis.
This causes stress because you never know when the other person will disappear into a conversation that is not taking place in the now, and so you want to fit in everything before the phone rings, pings, beeps, or calls.

This stress affects our lives in many ways. It makes us sick, depressed, angry, on edge. And what do we do? We say we should practice mindfulness and being in the now. In other words – appreciate the moment. Step away from your electronic devices and enjoy the rain, or the blossoming flowers, the air conditioning, the people on the street, the sound of your heart beating, or the feel of your feet on the floor on which you stand.
But this pressure to be mindful is actually preventing us from being mindful…

Joining the Fellowship

Being an Olah is tough. And this coming from a girl who has it easy – seeing as I am a Ktina Chozeret with fluent Hebrew and some knowlege of the culture. But all of us get those reactions from people when they find out that we made aliyah.

At first it’s like –” Wow Kol hakavod! “(which directly translates to “all the respect”). And then it goes “Why?!?” with that tone of voice of “Are you crazy?“.

Some people just want to hear that their country is better.

Others truly don’t understand.

But there’s just something about Israel. And when you’re Jewish and growing up elsewhere and you don’t feel as though you fit in, Israel is the place to go. If you’re moving far away from family to go to college or grad school or for a job, you might as well go to Israel.

And how fun is Tel Aviv?? There is truly no beach city like it in the world. What other city can feel like a city and a small town simultaneously, while also feeling like a vacation town on some island with those white beaches and ice coffees?

 

But it’s not easy. There are a lot of issues in this country and as much as I love living in a bubble, these issues are quite difficult to ignore. Rockets tend to burst that bubble, as do talks of gas masks, hostility, and  frustration about destruction of peace contracts. And believe me, I should be considered a professional at “living in a bubble”.

 

Which is why I joined the Shomer Fellowship. The Shomer fellowship is this program where Olim come together to learn about Israel and help make it stronger. Twice a month we have classes about Israel – whether it be about Israel’s History, Jewish History, Judaism itself, agriculture and the land of Israel, or other related topics. Then, once a month,  we go guard a farm or kibbutz without  guns or weapons.  We just go and show a presence on someone’s land to help protect it. This is part of the Shomer HaChadash (The New Guard) movement whose goal it is to promote Mutual Responsibility by helping farmers protect their lands from criminals and thieves. Since this movement has started, there has been an 80% decrease in break ins on these kibbutzim and farms. There are about 2000 volunteers that are part of this movement, and our fellowship adds another 40 Olim from Tel Aviv.

 

The crime and theft at these farms has brought farmers to desperation and abandonment of their lands. Over 30,000 dunam (1 acre = 4.05 dunam) have been given up and abandoned. Farming and agriculture has brought this harsh land to life and the abandonment of so many areas is scary and sad. These farmers feel that they are farming government land yet are not getting support or protection from the government against these serious hardships that they face. The Shomer HaChadash makes it a point to show that there are people who do still care and who will help guard these lands because Jews, and Israelis, are mutually responsible for each other.

As this world grows more capitalistic, people are becoming more individualistic and losing that connection to their nation, to their people, and to each other. I know that part of the reason I moved to Israel is because I wanted to feel that connection to others and I was not feeling it where I came from.

I want to make this a place where people want to move because of the sense of community, the happiness, and the mutual responsibility that is here. That culture of helping others and helping yourself. I want to make it a place that people don’t want to leave. I want to learn more about this country to add meaning to my work towards improving it and making it a place where I would be proud to raise my children.

That is why I joined I joined the Shomer Fellowship.

 

Of course, it also gives me a chance to leave Tel Aviv once a month and sing Kumbaya songs around the campfire, and meet awesome new people who have the same goals and aspirations as myself, regardless of their personal reasons and motivations.

 

And each one of these people have their own amazing stories, origins, journies, and personal motivations that I cannot wait to hear about as we spend hours around bonfires and in fields

 

 

The other day I had a random thought:

Why are Red Heads called Gingers?

If they are named after the spice/root – that makes little sense…because the root is yellow when ground and dried, and white when raw and fresh, and red heads have red/orange hair…definitely not yellow.

In Hebrew, red heads are called “Gingi” – pronounced “jin-ji” – and, according to Wikipedia – this is derived from the English word “Ginger” which is based on the root.

Perhaps in the past, ginger was a more deep red or orange color than the yellow it is today.

Fun Facts about Gingers?

Red hair occurs naturally on approximately 1–2% of the human population. It occurs more frequently (2–6%) in people of northern or western European ancestry, and less frequently in other populations. Red hair appears in people with two copies of a recessive gene on chromosome 16 which causes a mutation in the MC1R protein.

The term redhead (originally redd hede) has been in use since at least 1510. It is associated with fair skin color, lighter eyes(gray, blue, green, and hazel), freckles, and sensitivity to ultraviolet light.  ^{– according to Wikipedia.} 

There are a lot of stereotypes about red heads – them being devil children and fiery-tempered. How interesting would it be to conduct a research to see whether redheads do have a different temperament? It could be related to their chromosome 16 difference. Maybe the low eulamin in the skin and the coloration of the hair also cause release of certain amino acids that affect ones temper! That could be a fascinating research….definitely something to consider or look into. Seeing as redheads have existed since the beginning of time, it may be that such research already exists.

Also – according to Wikipedia, genetically, the fair skin that has no tolerance for the skin is more tolerant of the cold. Perhaps gingers, when placed in warmer climates, become “hot-headed” faster because of their intolerance for/annoyance with the weather.

Related articles

• Why Ginger? (nettablog.wordpress.com)

East of Eden Book Review

I recently finished reading the novel “East of Eden” by John Steinbeck.

It was highly recommended to me by my brother, as well as one of my regulars at the restaurant I worked in, as well as a recent acquaintance. Basically, it came highly recommended. After reading John Steinbeck for school and definitely remembering it as a painful experience, I was doubtful. But I am so glad I read it.

John Steinbeck describes his multi layered, complex, human characters in a beautiful light. He paints individuals into being along with their history and background in a manner that you feel as though you truly know them. But while painting a true human being, he also sends his philosophical messages about life. It was a well researched novel, with imagery from the Bible, interesting life lessons and messages on human nature, and the history of the US and Salinas County. 

I personally also loved that there was mention of Stanford and Hebrew and San Francisco and San Jose and Santa Cruz – it felt even closer to home. 

 

Basically – I highly recommend it! I would love to write more but I wouldn’t want to ruin it for anyone. 

“Now THAT is something you write a blog about….”

In my last post, I wrote about some negative experiences I experienced with the medical system in Israel as well as uncomfortable situations. But that same day, I also saw something special and surprising in a positive way that I felt needed a post of its own.

After my hectic three hour bus ride where I felt surrounded and judged by religious Jews, I got off at my destination: Hadassah Ein Kerem. This is a Teaching Hospital (Grey’s Anatomy anyone??) and my mother’s best friend’s daughter is studying there, and her father is a department head there….which is really why I was there in the first place. Anyway – the campus is beautiful. But huge. I started wandering, reading signs, and finding ones only leading to the school. Finally I stopped at a “Butke” – or a guard booth – where I saw an Arab man sitting. I asked him where I could find the main hospital, and he explained the directions to me in great detail twice: “Go to the next booth, enter there. Then cross the first yard. Then go up the stairs and cross the second yard. Then go into those doors, take a right, then a left, go all the way down, another left, to the elevators”…You get my point. So I walked to the next gate and entered the awaiting maze. Inside, there were mosaic tilings, fountains, trees. The ground was beautifully paved and there was modern artwork tastefully placed across the yard. I followed the guard’s directions and found myself in a building that was not the one I was supposed to be in. I walked over to some desk and asked again – and got another set of confusing instructions. Several more attempts, yards crossed, and elevators taken, I managed to get to the Gastroenterology department -late. Luckily, according to them, I was right on time and could take a seat in the waiting room.

As I sat down in the red plastic chairs of the downstairs basement floor where the Gastroenterology and liver disease department was, a nurse came out and yelled” Ilana ____, Ilana ____” (I don’t remember the last name). A girl that I had noticed at the desk next to me, who had signed in for the same doctor, for the appointment after me, came to the waiting area with her friend and took a seat next to me. I leaned over and asked, “Are you Ilana?” and she said, “No. Why?” and I responded with –  “They called for an Ilana and I wanted to make sure you did not miss it if it were you.”

“Could it have been Mirena, possibly?” She asked.

“Sure!” I responded. “What’s your last name?”

“*Insert name that starts with an F and has no similarity to the name they had actually called here*” – she responded.

I shook my head no and said, “Well! Good then, you did not miss it.”

Later, I looked around for a phone charger (because the iPhone5 battery SUCKS). Mirena pointed out a plug that was functional high above our heads and when I could not reach, plugged my iphone in and balanced it on a picture frame. Sadly, I was called about 2 minutes later and although she offered to watch it, I preferred to keep it with me. It wasn’t even a trust issue thing. It was more of a comfort issue for me.

But while I sat there in the waiting room, I noticed that all of the workers at this hospital were Arab. I also noticed that a lot of the patients were Arab. Mirena was too. This Israeli hospital, in Jerusalem, was employed with Arabs, and treated Arabs. There was no separation, no wall, no hatred. There was kindness and cohabitance.

Later, I went to say hi to the ex-husband of my mom’s best friend, who I grew up seeing as much as I saw family while I was growing up. He was the one who asked that I be seen as soon as possible and the reason I was at the hospital in the first place. As I took the elevators to head back down to meet my friend, who is a student there, for lunch, I waited quite a while. Next to me stood a small woman with beautiful eyes under a black burka, and next to her was a tall, light skinned, blue eyed and blonde partner of hers, and their beautiful four year old son was in his father’s arms, wrapped in paper towels.  I was curious as to why he would have paper towels all around him and what could be the issue, and so I may have looked over more than an average person waiting for an elevator would. But then I looked away and stayed quiet. The man stopped speaking to his wife in Arabic and started speaking in Hebrew, in order to let me feel included, comfortable – to involve me in the conversation. He made a comment on how the elevators were taking forever.

Then I went to lunch at the cafeteria with Shany and her boyfriend and their student friends. These are medical students that signed for 5 years in the army after they first finish med school that is fully paid for. Among these paid students were Arab Israelis who were also serving in the army, also studying medicine, and the Army is paying for it all.

You might be wondering why I am writing these insignificant details of interactions I had with other people at the hospital. I am just trying to convey the kindness and comfort people showed toward each other. It was just such a shock to go from this hostile bus environment where people from my own faith looked at me with distaste to the mix of these two populations that the news say do not get along and hate each other. Yet here is a hospital where it all works!

I  just wish that more stories like this one of coexistence, co-empathy, coalition publicized. I want people to be aware that alongside the bad, there is good, and in that, hope.

Also- how cool would it be if Grey’s Anatomy were set in a hospital like this. It would definitely be a great twist, and add an extra dimension of possible drama.

I am not saying it is all rainbows and clouds and happiness. I was only there for a day. I do not know if there is conflict, if there is bureaucracy (though I’m going to go ahead and guess that….yes, there is), and what other positions people fill and where. I do not know the level of equality, how many of the doctors are bilingual, and how the different parties are truly treated.

All I can really say is that, from what I saw, there was definite kindness and coexistence. It was surprising, and a change from what the media often portrays.

Oh Jerusalem, you are so multi-faceted and full of layers and surprises.

An “Oh yeah, I’m in Israel” Moment #1

As a part of this whole medical struggle…I have come across several “Oh, right…I am in Israel” moments that have been quite frustrating and strange.

1. I had to tell a nurse to wash her hands between taking the trash out and taking a blood test from me. Um, excuse me? Are you serious?

2. Doctors tell me first that “Everything looks totally fine and is okay” and make me feel bad for freaking out and showing up last minute in their office. For example, I found that one of my stitches got infected, and that it was pussing (I know…pleasant imagery). So the next morning I went to work and calmly called my doctor and asked if this was alright. He said it was not. He said I had to drop everything and show up at his office immediately – take a 200 shekel taxi if I needed to (pshyea right. Was he going to pay for that??). So I made it to the office and he looks and says “Well everything looks fine. It’s not a big deal at all. Netta, do not use words like “infection” and “puss” when describing this! Your skin just reacted negatively to a stitch and some liquid came out.”

(Is that not the same thing?)

So I asked whether I should not have come…And he said “No! Of course you needed to come. Had you not come it would have gotten way worse and the scarring would have been horrendous.”

….then don’t make me feel stupid for showing up by telling me that everything is totally fine and safe.

The same thing happened when I went to the ER. The doctor told me everything is fine, that my throat is not closing up but that I do have a viral infection along with my allergic reaction and that it’s really not a big deal and I am A-okay. She also asked if I was confident my lips were puffy because they “look symmetrical to her” …That’s nice. And yes, I am sure. So then I said – so I can just go home? And she says – Oh, no. You have a severe allergic reaction and need to receive a shot.

….Then why tell me everything is totally alright and that it’s not a big deal and that I just have a viral infection coming along? Why play it down so I feel ridiculous for running to the ER? …I guess it’s just Israeli doctors’ way of dealing with hysterical patients? I really do not understand it.

3. I went to get blood work looked over and when they checked for my blood pressure it was so low that the machine beeped to alert them that I was dying. So what did the nurse do? Instead of laying me down and sticking IV in me and running tests, she asked me if I could go get myself a cup of tea with lots of sugar. Ha I love this country. I chugged my tea and was allowed to go home.

4. I had a doctor tell me I “look healthy” without taking my blood pressure, weight, or touching me…And that I can just go home and wait out my stomach pains. She also said she does not have the energy to look up the Israeli version of the birth control that I have. Originally she guessed a name for a prescription because both Seasonique and my birth control are administered in pill form. Oh goodie – does that mean they have the same dosage? Use the same hormones? Oh wait…no. Idiot. So she told me she did not have the energy and I could go look it up myself.

Thank you, Israeli health system. Thank you.

5. Another Israeli moment happened just today. Sometimes when you live in Tel Aviv, you forget where you are in the world. There are so many other languages, and honestly, I speak so much English that when I hear Hebrew on the street I still get startled sometimes and get that feeling of secret pride that I can understand them before I realize I am not Cali anymore.

Well today I went to Jerusalem to meet a special gastroenterologist at the FARTHEST HOSPITAL EVER. It took me over 3 hours to get there. Three buses. It was tough. Anyway, I wore my comfy cotton tights, brown leather boots, and an extra large mens sweater -fully covered clothing (I am covered in a rash so this made sense. Also in my head, Jerusalem is cold…It was not…). I got on the first bus from Tel Aviv to Ramat Gan. In Ramat Gan I got on the 422 (I was following my Moovit App Instructions). It was just myself and two others on the bus – an older woman, and a young man with a kippah. I took no notice of this and found myself an empty seat (as were most of them) about 5 rows behind the driver. Then we started driving and more and more religious people were getting on the bus. I also kept getting strange looks. This is when I noticed that all the women headed straight for the back, and I was surrounded by men.

My first reaction was freaking out – Did I not see a sign? Was I supposed to sit in the back??

Which is interesting, because  I am all about equality and do not like the idea of a split bus, but my urge to conform and not feel like an outcast was strong. Then I was happy, because I knew no one would sit next to me. More room for me! But my thought process in between was interesting – noticing how I reacted once I realized the separation. It doesn’t really make sense because…If a woman has to cross the entire front section with all the men in order to get to the back of the bus, it defeats the purpose of staying out of the man’s way. If anything, this is the way to ensure that every man seated at the front of the bus will see her as she walks by.

Then I got off at this stop at Ramot and Golda to catch a 3rd bus to Hadassah Ein Karem…It was a 45 minute wait. And I was the only woman who was not wearing a skirt, tights, flats, and a long sleeved shirt. I enjoyed seeing the different fashion trends and make up styles and hair differences among the girls. But I did not enjoy the glares and stares I received. I knew that I was dressed perfectly conservatively and covered, and not inappropriately at all. Only in Jerusalem can you be looked at disparagingly for being dressed in pants, even if you are covered from top to bottom. Now, I do not mean to say that this does not exist in other countries. It does. Just…not ones I have visited. It’s not that I am not aware of this, it was just a shocking reminder that – Oh yeah, I am in Israel. This is Jerusalem. It’s also interesting how different two cities are, when they are so close to each other.

I have plenty of other “Oh Toto, we aren’t in Kansas anymore…” moments to share but for now I must bid adieu and set my head on my pillow…

Disclaimer: I do not mean to pass judgment on Israel (although it very well may seem that way….I should think about this disclaimer more). The point is to look at culture shock moments and things that remind me of where I am, and I write them out as part of a process of dealing with them and realizing that I am, in fact, dealing with culture shock. I also want to share my frustrations with certain situations, or my observations. I want readers to know that they are not alone in their struggles to get used to this funky country. 

Doctors, and Nurses, and Shots, Oh My!

“Instead of asking, ‘Why am I having to deal with all of this?’ ask yourself what you most need to learn from your experiences. View the situation much like the butterfly must see its cocoon… as a barrier you must break through to become the extraordinary creature you were designed to be.”

Hello again! I found this quote once – I do not know who  said it, but I wanted to write about it a bit. Lately, I have had a hard time with this question, “Why am I having to deal with all this?”

I’ve been sick. Yep – since before I started this blog, which is what now seems like forever ago – I have been sick. It’s not one of those debilitating sicknesses. I wouldn’t say i’m dysfunctional, and I know that there are people who are far less fortunate than myself. But I got sick in Peru on the last week of March 2013, and it has been a battle since. I have struggled with a lot of stomach pain – from the slight twinges and discomforts to horrible horrible pain. On some level I have given up on doctors because their answer seems to be that I may just suffer from Irritable Bowel Syndrome and it may take a while for my intestines to heal after such a severe infection. 

According to Wikipedia: 

“Irritable bowel syndrome (IBS, or spastic colon) is a symptom-based diagnosis characterized by chronic abdominal pain, discomfort, bloating, and alteration of bowel habits. As a functional gastrointestinal disorder (FGID), IBS has no known organic cause. Onset of IBS is more likely to occur after an infection (post-infectious, IBS-PI), a stressful life event, or onset of maturity. Although there is no cure for IBS, there are treatments that attempt to relieve symptoms, including dietary adjustments, medication and psychological interventions, patient education, and a good doctor-patient relationship. The most common theory is that IBS is a disorder of the interaction between the brain and the gastrointestinal tract, although there may also be abnormalities in the gut flora or the immune system.”

 

Now – this sounds like a pretty good description of my situation. Which sucks because basically it means your stomach hurts but all the tests show no abnormalities and there isn’t really a solution, and you and your doctor just hope it will one day just solve itself. Finally, today, I met a doctor who said he would give me medication to help me deal with the symptoms because, to be honest, sometimes the pain is just intolerable and makes it very difficult to function.

Another part about this that is frustrating is when you tell people and they don’t understand what’s wrong because, let’s face it, even doctors don’t understand what is wrong. This is when you have symptoms – such as excruciating stomach pains -but nothing is wrong with you so doctors gave it an overarching name. And then people start asking you – Well, did you try this? Did you try that? Did you go to enough doctors? Homeopaths? Did you try this diet? That diet? You’re just not taking care of yourself.

Which is frustrating because – I have been trying so hard to take care of myself. I have kept a dairy-free, gluten-free, and even sugar-free diet. I have taken probiotics twice a day for seven months – and yes. Yes I did change up the probiotics. Yes, I also took the ones that are supported by clinical research, thank you. I tried eating small meals, separated meals (where you separate carbs from proteins), herbal extracts, sleeping, and avoiding all sorts of acidic or complicated foods. I tried the “quinoa and whole rice” diet and I tried the “Easy to digest white rice” diet. I have rested for days at a time. I appreciate that people care but when people tell me what to do it tends to bug me. It is as if they are insulting my intelligence, even if they are only trying to help.

Then comes the next frustrating comment – “Well then it must be psychological.” It might – except that I have had all kinds of ups and downs and stressed and non-stressed moments in the past 7 months, and quite frankly, this stomach issue has been consistent. I also had diagnoses of both Amoebic Dysentery and C-dificile – which are two serious gut infections…that are not psychologically invented. I realize that I have psychosomatic problems in my past and I am aware of them, but when it comes to my stomach, I beg to differ. That has been one part of me that has functioned smoothly until March 27th, 2013. But I do believe that my immune system may be significantly affected by my psychological situation and am a huge believer in seeking psychotherapy. I think it can help everyone.

Back to my more general point…”Why am I dealing with all of this”

I am not a big “external locus of control” kind of girl. I take responsibility for the things that happen to me in my life and I do not think that Karma or God are punishing me. And in this case, I realize it was a mistake to go ahead and do surgery while my stomach was causing problems. But – if I do really have IBS, then I cannot just put my life off because of it! I was also told that this surgery is super minor, purely cosmetic, and will heal within 2 weeks. So I figured – what’s the big deal, right?

Wrong.

My angry body was not happy. It did not deal well with the stitches and decided to get inflamed…So I got put on antibiotics. Now my poor digestive system has already been on far too many antibiotics lately…but I got this “Losec” pill which you take before your antibiotic and it helps protect your digestive system. MAGIC. But an inflammation still happened. So then I got put on some cream – which did not reduce the inflammation after a week (yep that means two weeks had passed since the surgery by this point and I was still dealing with no exercise and awful stitches). So I got put on Augmentin – a strong antibiotic. I took Losec with it once again, but alas – my body had an allergic reaction to the antibiotic. Apparently, I am now allergic to Penicillin. So…I stopped, and got put on anti-histamines. These did not help and I got an allergic reaction that started spreading to my chest area and stomach. When I woke up with my mouth burning and getting puffy, I went to the hospital. I was at work, and my wonderful coworker agreed to accompany me (because no one should have to go to the ER in a new country alone), and at the ER I was given hydrocortisone and prednisone. I waited an hour to see that I was fine and I went back to work.

….I was not fine. The allergic reaction became WORSE. it spread all over my face, scalp, feet – EVERYWHERE. It was horrendous. For two days I was in bed. Heck – I am still in bed from this monster.

On top of this, I became very unhappy at work in the past month. I was also stressed and frustrated with my living situation, my friend situation, my love situation, and my country-of choice situation…. What came first? The chicken or the egg? The unhappiness with work? Or this awful allergic reaction?

I’m not going to deny it- it sure seems that my psychological state of mind may be affecting my immune system – I mean, why else would my body be crashing like this? But…I also must say that I think my physical state is the one affecting my psychological state of mind more so. The fact that my stomach hurts nonstop makes eating a stressful situation. It makes meeting friends at restaurants stressful. Also, not being allowed to exercise because of my stitches and my stomach has definitely been difficult. I love being active, but being cooped up in bed in pain is not conducive to walking around or running or joining a yoga class and this is a bummer. I also cannot go out and dance, or drink alcohol without thinking of the consequences to my stomach. And then you see my friends’ faces when I say I won’t drink or dance- even though I made the effort to go out with them! It’s a whole cycle.

This post is getting to be too long so I’m going to need to wrap it up and continue a rant on a separate one…

Basically – I am learning from this experience. And I know that I will come out of it stronger, and look back, and laugh and say – remember that one time I went gluten free and dairy free and sugar free and suffered from horrendous pains for a year? HAHA yeah but at least I was skinny back then.

Hopefully I will gain my love for cooking back because that has flown completely out the window (although I am still an obsessive foodie and do not worry, I will be posting food blogs soon!) and my trust in medicine because at this point I want to just curl into a small ball in my bed and give up on them all…

I am also very aware that every time another little thing goes wrong in my life – like a cat attacking me on the street for no apparent reason, or the entire box of gluten free chicken soup mix falling on my head from the top shelf and covering the kitchen and myself with yellow powder, or the lady doctor at the hospital telling me that it’s not that my throat is closing from an allergic reaction, but rather that – on top of everything – I also have some sort of virus – I should imagine that this would not be such a big deal if it was just that. That if you take every bad thing that is happening and compartmentalize it, it makes it easier to deal with and does not seem quite as bad. I mean – it would still SUCK. Just not as badly as everything at once.

Although – to be honest – not at one single point did I actually think “Why do I have to deal with all of this?”

Because, like I said at the beginning – I think I am lucky and I am grateful for all that I have in my life. I am aware that getting surgery may have been a mistake at this point and that is my own fault. I also think that this is life. There are always going to be difficulties. There are always going to be better times and worse times. And it is going to be ok. *fingers crossed*

Barbeques, Bonfires, and Banana Boats

Today was Lag BaOmer – Chag Sameach!

I was thinking today about where I was last year at Lag BaOmer (holidays just do that to you) and I remember just wanting to go to a bonfire. But I was invited to my then-boyfriend’s house for a BBQ with his parents’ friends. Of course, being polite little me, I said yes! Why not? Spending the holiday with the boyfriend and his family, and eating delicious kebabs? Sounds magnificent…even if it isn’t a bonfire on the beach with friends and a guiatar…

I ended up spending the night curled up in my bed, crying, and watching my favorite tv shows to distract me. I had a huge fight with the boyfriend…and no longer felt like going out to other BBQs. Besides – all I wanted was a bonfire and that was not one of the options.

This year’s holiday celebration was perfect. There aren’t many places to have bonfires in the Bay Area – most beaches have restrictions – not to mention sitting on the beach in the dark in the sand is fucking cold and wet and sand gets everywhere.

So my sister’s best friend, let’s call her Julie, because I’m sure she’ll come up again seeing as they’re basically attached at the hip – lives about a block down from us. Her parents had this fantastic idea to just build a bonfire in the sandbox in their backyard. Why have none of our friends ever thought about this?! (Maybe no one has a sandbox). It was perfect. There was BBQ’d food, a bonfire, and a bunch of Israelis – so I got to spend the evening speaking hebrew and sitting on a chair by the fire, mesmerized by the color and cackle of the flames.

The crowd was all Israeli parents and their kids-ranging from ages two to nine. They looked at me as if I was some alien – what normal nine year old kid has a twenty two year old sister? …And a big topic for discussion (other than trying to draft me as a babysitter) was my Aliyah. These parents swarmed me with, “Why would you ever want to move back to Israel? What don’t you have here?”

They also have this really hard time accepting that I am twenty two and that I am my parents’ daughter. On one hand they want to talk with me about my trip and compare their trips and discuss their experiences with amoebas, and on the other, I look like I’m 15 and they cannot understand how I just came back from a trip in South America on my own.

It’s tough when people ask me why I want to move to Israel. I mean – yes! My family is here and I love them so much, and yes! I could get the same jobs here and make way more money and live more comfortably. But it’s not the same. Try explaining what it is about the atmosphere of a place, or the feeling of identity -to people who grew up there. I grew up here, and it is just a different experience. I did not move here because I’m married and my job offered to move me out and I anyways like staying in with my husband and going out to extremely fancy restaurants (although that does sound fantastic) – but life here as a young person? It. Is. Rough.

Some people understand, and some people don’t. I just think it’s not something you can truly explain.

But it’s irksome when people question your life decisions so decidedly.

It was really nice to hear my mother defend my opinions and decisions with her own experiences and love of Israel – thanks, Ima! I love you!

A few days before the bonfire, my mother told me about the BBQ and tempted me with promise of crispy hotdogs and potatoes in the fire and I said – let’s make Banana Boats!

Now – I have never made banana boats before in my life…I believe my friends in college once mentioned them, and I came across them on Foodgawker.com (probably the best website for foodies ever-I highly recommend it. I showed it to my father the other day and he fell in love with it too! He started emailing himself and me recipes that looked good to him…And I recently made strawberry cheesecake popsicles from left over strawberries we had using a recipe from there! DELICIOUS!) – Ever since seeing banana boats online, I have wanted to make them.

My mom asked me – what are Banana Boats and how do you make them? I scoured my brain for the recipe I saw on the internet and told her the general ingredients – bananas, chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, whipped cream or ice cream, and aluminum foil.

Did I know whether I was right and whether it would turn out okay? No.

But it seemed easy enough and I hoped for the best. And my mother took me very seriously and went out and bought all the necessary ingredients.

So when I arrived at the BBQ, where I found adults huddled around a bonfire and about 15 screaming children running around the yard, I heard the request for dessert. I came an hour late, so it was understandable that the kids had already eaten and were ready for sweets. I had sat down and my mother turned to me and said “Go help them make Banana Boats.”

For a moment my inner-teen wanted to protest and say – I’ve never made them! And did you see the amount of screaming, energy-crazed kids out here?

But instead, I decided to go for it. I’m trying this new “going with the flow” thing and trying to be a nicer person and hey, maybe it will turn out to be fun. I have nothing better to do than sit here and listen to adults question my decision to make Aliyah.

So I called out to my sister and told her we are making Banana Boats and to come to the table. The children came shrieking to stand around the table.

“I need plates and knives,” I said. “Julia – Do you know where to find me some?”

She’s at my house so often, she’s practically family.

She immediately returned with plates and knives. We distributed them among the 10 kids that decided to participate, between the ages of five and nine, and each one got a banana and a piece of aluminum foil. Every child around the table felt the need to emphasize that one of the kids at the table does not speak hebrew, and would that be ok. – Of course that would be ok….every single one of us kids growing up her knows english! And the kid seemed used to be surrounded by hebrew and had no problem with the fact that we were speaking a language he did not quite understand. I quickly and smoothly switched languages to accomodate for our new friend.

Some kids were independent, and when I showed them how to cut off the banana top and slice it down the middle, they executed well.

One child, you could tell he was unique from the start. He decided to cut the banana from the curving out side rather than the boat-like side. You’re always going to get that one kid…

And there were several who needed help, or a little more instruction, but once everyone had their bananas cut and prepared, we brought out the chocolate chips.

“Netta, can I taste one? Can I taste one?”

…”Yes, you can taste the milk chocolate chips…and the Reeses too…No you cannot eat entire handfuls! Share! Share! Save some for the bananas!”

We got them all ready and wrapped and my father helped me throw them into the fire.

We waited 5 minutes, and started pulling them out. During these 5 minutes I got interrogated by some of the kids – “Whose sister are you? How do you know hebrew? You were born in Israel? My parents were born in Israel! Are you a parent? How old are you? When will my banana be ready? Is it ready yet? Is it ready yet? Where is the whipped cream?”

And then….when we took the bananas out, the bombardment continued…

“Can you open it for me? Can you whip cream it for me?”

You’d think I’d find it a hassle, or a chore, to balance the requests of ten kids surrounding me and talking at the same time, grabbing my arms, and sticking aluminum covered bananas in my face, but I actually enjoyed it a lot. Over the years I have come to learn that I love working with children, and that you have to gain their trust and show them patience, be firm and honest, and everything goes well!

Some kids, after preparing the banana with whipped cream and unpeeling it and taking a fork, admitted that they do not like bananas at all and would prefer if I could fill their plastic cup with whipped cream instead. Other kids requested to make a second banana and said the only bad thing about the project was that it was over. But the nicest part was experiencing the quiet that came down on the BBQ as all the previously shrieking children settled down and enjoyed their bananas, concentrating on eating the mushy mess on their plates, and the satisfied grins on the parents’ faces.

Another highlight of the night was when one of the girls came over later and just hugged my arm, leaned against me, and explained to me why she loves wearing her mother’s shirts – she’s seven years old. She is Julia’s younger sister, and offered for me to take a picture of her so that I have it on my phone. It was nice to make this connection with her – although I know from stories that she is quite the warm individual. Gaining her friendship and trust were a gift. And she told me some funny jokes as well.

All in all, Bonfires are fantastic. There’s good food, and a wonderful atmosphere of “Chevruta” – of everyone sitting together and enjoying the warmth and color of the fire, the smell of the smoke, and each others’ company.

Give me a bonfire and someone with a guitar and I am set

But just a bonfire with friendly people, lovely conversation, and a relaxing evening in good weather will fill my heart with warmth and make me content.

Chag Sameach!

 

The McFlurry Project

People always tell me what they think is the best ice cream – whether it be Italian Gelato, or the purple chocolate store on Mitre St in Bariloche, Argentina, or Ben and Jerry’s “Half-Baked” flavor (All fantastic, truly wonderful moments of joy in my life). But what everybody seems to forget is that, universally, there is one ice cream that overcomes them all -and that is the McDonald’s McFlurry.

Oreo is definitely a staple flavor, and I have fond memories of driving to McDonalds drive thru’s in the middle of the night to order it, or leaving middle school at the end of a long, hot day and heading to the McDonalds at the end of Sokolov for a cold and refreshing, sweet, vanilla and oreo McFlurry. I have not had any other form of McDonalds food since I was six years old, except for the occasional fry stolen out of someone else’s meal – but the McFlurry is my one weakness (except for frozen yogurt – yogurtland and yoloberry-I have not forgotten you…-but those are for different situations).

The McFlurry has always been something I have been fond of (since it came to existence), but it turned into a true project last summer, in Europe.

My travel companion, let’s call him Rocky for the sake of this blog, is a die-hard McDonalds fan. When I met his grandpa, who had come to visit in Israel, I understood it was a genetic thing. His grandfather insisted on eating McDonalds every single day.

So when we went to travel Europe together, McDonalds stops were made. It was then that I realized McDonalds are not universally the same. Sure, there are the staples –  fries and burgers (although why you would order fries at a McDonalds in Belgium is beyond me). But every country also has their special food deals and flavors – and often this is the case for McFlurries as well.

My first uniquely flavored McFlurry was in Amsterdam, Holland. They had posters of this “new McFlurry flavor” all over the city, and it  became an obsession and a necessity for me to try it.

THE WHITE MAGNUM MCFLURRY

Have you ever had a White Magnum ice cream bar? That, in and of itself, is possibly one of the most delicious foods you will experience. Now mix that with the light, sweet vanilla flavor of the McFlurry and you’ve got heaven on your tongue. While Rocky, Lincoln, and Henri sat around eating their burgers, I found myself a quiet windowsill, pulled my knees to my chest, looked out the dark windowpane at the rainy street, and silently enjoyed my mouth watering piece of heaven in a cup.

From there started the need to check out every McDonalds on our trip – one in every country – to see their different foods and try their McFlurries.

London, England – they had these “onion and cheese” fried triangles….and Mcflurries with “Wisps” which is a local chocolate with caramel. Oh and the McDonalds also had a fish tank in it…

Barcelona, Spain – didn’t have any unique McFlurry flavors actually. They had the normal M&M and Oreo flavors and your average US menu…disappointment. But they did have some more creative desserts in general…

Marakesh, Morocco- We didn’t eat there but they have cookies filled with chocolate, and brownie sundaes (choco-glace), and their McFlurries have a KitKat or M&M option with chocolate or caramel sauces.

Rome, Italy – BEST MCFLURRY FLAVORS! They have chocolate ice cream mcflurry with chocolate covered waffle pieces, pistachio flavor, and a Nocciola (Nutella/Hazelnut) flavor which was the one I tried and almost equal with the heavenly taste of the Magnum White McFlurry.

After Europe, I took a break from McFlurries…But upon arriving to Brazil, I knew I had to continue the project.

Have you ever heard Mitch Hedburg and his stand up about McDonalds and how participation may vary? You could open a McDonalds, but instead of burgers, you sell spaghetti! And blankets!

In Brazil, and in South America in general, there was this serious division between the normal foods and the dessert section at the McDonalds chains. My co-traveler on this trip, ScarJo, and I went to Porto Seguro on our way down from Salvador to Rio, and it was not the most fun town. So we headed to the McDonalds to try their McFlurries. They had two flavors…one was chocolate truffles and the other was a local Brazilian chocolate.

The thing about McFlurries in South America is that they are wannabe McFlurries. They don’t mix the chocolate in using the McFlurry machine! They put vanilla ice cream,syrup, and the toppings, stick a spoon in it, and voila. (This is making me want to run to the nearest McDonalds and get myself an Oreo McFlurry but I am not allowed any dairy products with my stomach issues at the moment…) It was still delicious and ScarJo had to take her lactose pills to eat it but we agreed that it was worth it. We walked home full and happy.

Argentina – SO MANY MCDONALDS! Around the Plaza of 9 de Julio, in Buenos Aires, where the Obelisk is, you can find three McDonalds within a one block radius. Their dessert menu was fancier than any I have ever seen! They had vanilla ice cream in an oreo cone, the typical mcflurry flavors…and the unique and special Toblerone McFlurry. We enjoyed that one on a cold evening in Mendoza on my last night in Argentina. It was yet another wannabe McFlurry, but nonetheless delicious.

(We also had a Burger King version of the McFlurry – called the “King’s Cup” to compare. It had a local candy with chocolate and nuts and had vanilla and dulce de leche swirled ice cream. definitely delicious.) Tigre, Argentina.

Chile had the same McDonalds desserts as Argentina, and the same foods as well. Their burgers with the Chicken and the bacon (the new ones?) have a different name, but that was about it.

In Peru, they had a local chocolate mixed into their McFlurries.

In Ecuador I was already sick with this stomach bug and not allowed dairy, so I did not have a chance to try their McFlurries. You know what that means – I’ll just have to go back.

Rocky once told me, on one of our last days in Europe, that the amount that I talk about ice cream and other dairy desserts is extremely disproportionate to the amount of dairy desserts that I eat. This is probably true- but comparing, contrasting, and finding the best in different categories is something that I can’t help but do, and I enjoy it so much!

Also, McDonalds is this well-known, universal restaurant and making comparisons between countries at a restaurant that seems so consistent is interesting  – and ice cream is one of those guilty pleasures you allow yourself more of abroad…And it’s fun 😉

Anywho, that is my in depth analysis and comparison between McFlurries. This project will continue, and I will update you on the latest and greatest McFlurry flavor additions and improvements!