Muhammad

Muhammad's pizza place is one of my favorite places in Jerusalem for so many nostalgic reasons. My dad used to visit Mohammad in the 70s, when the Damascus gate was still new to an Israeli Jerusalem. Mohammad then lived in East Jerusalem, but he has since moved into the Old City because of the pain of check points and such securities. My dad remembers his friendship with Mohammad and his family with a lot of pride and fondness; rightly so, as it was (is) uncommon for lasting relationships to form between people of such different backgrounds. 30 years later, Mohammad still remembers my dad every time he returns to visit the tiny pizza place tucked away in an alley. And now, Mohammad knows me too.

The Green Door Pizza Bakery is a just a tiny room with a giant oven. This facility serves as the common oven for anyone in the area who doesn't have an oven of their own. Often, while sitting inside the wallpapered walls, I'll see a young Arab boy enter with a chicken, or potatoes, or whatever, for Mohammed to cook. He'll return later to collect the food. Mohammad's therefore serves as a communal meeting place, with people rushing in and out with food or just popping in to say hi. 

Mohammad's is not sanitary by any standards, not that it matters. Mohammed stands inside a pit smoking cigarettes and letting the ashes fall directly into the food. His hands are charred black from the oven, but he will never wash them before spending hours kneading dough in the back room. The back room is also covered in sawdust and nails, because it also serves as a storage closet.

Mohammed himself is going on 70 years old now. He made this business for himself for over 50 years now. Beside from the cooking services, he also makes pizza. The pizza is classically Arab: tomato paste, laughing cow cheese, and egg yolk all get piled into a dough that is then is cooked in the oven. It's surprisingly tasty.

But you don't go to Mohammed's for the pizza. You go for his unenthusiastic "ahalan" even when you know he's so happy you remembered to visit. You go for the little boy who runs in and gives Mohammed a glass of tea. You go for the bad Arabic music videos being played in the background. And you go because this is authentic, a real person who has made his life standing in a fire pit, Allhumdillah. 

Far away from, and yet so close to, the stillness of the Jewish quarter I know so well, Mohammed spends hours upon hours standing next to his oven, smoking his cigarettes, and just being. I feel comforted knowing that every time I go back, he'll still be standing there. 

Abu Shukri, Old City, Jerusalem

Many native hummus lovers will tell you that Abu Shukri, located centrally at the bottom of Via De La Rosa in Jerusalem's Old City, is the best hummus in town. Although it's not my favorite, I can see their point. Unlike other hummusia-s in Israel, Abu Shukri has a wide selection of foods, not just hummus. Some would see this as a bonus, I see this as a distraction from the true love of hummus. I seem to always want french fries when I'm there, which takes away from a real hummus experience. But no matter-- the hummus itself is good, with a slightly lemon undertone, and soft soft soft chickpeas. The falafel is eh, no big deal, but a nice bite from time to time. 

Falafel and other dippables

The hummus

The kitchen

Cairo, FUL Galore!

Finally, a taxi driver told us the true best ful restaurant. The kind of place where the locals sit and dip and dip and dip until their stomachs explode with fava bean puree. It's called Acher Saah, which I can try to translate (with the little Arabic skills I have) as "other hour". I think.

We wanted EVERYTHING. But we didn't really know what everything meant, because the menu was only in Arabic. Luckily, we had Shira, our trusty Arabic speaker. And six waiters who all wanted to help the foreigners. 
First, obviously, some falafel. Of the fava bean variety. (read previous post for further explanation.) 
Then came... surprise! Veggies for dipping. And lucky for me, full eggplants. Once this plate arrived, Acher Saah was golden in my mind. Who delivers eggplants!?!? Tomatos, pickles, yes, sure.. but eggplant!? What a treat.

We ordered four different plates of ful. The first was this one, with full fava beans instead of mashed creamed beans. It also had tomatoes and onions on top, which really added to the whole plate. I think this dish was everyone's least favorite, but it was my favorite because I put a spoonful of it (full beans, veggies) on top of every bite of the other kinds, just to make each spoonful feel different. And with pita, it made little sandwiches instead of just dips.

The other three types of ful were of the creamy variety: one mixed with tahina, one I can't remember, and one mixed with tomatoes. ALL very very good, but kind of hard to distinguish when you're ravenously stuffing them in your mouth one after the other in a frenzy of feasting. 

FEAST!


The whole experience was a whirlwind of digestion. I think we ate so fast we could barely taste. But we all loved it. And when we left, no one was comfortable.... all of our bellies were exploding over our pants in happy fullness. Cairo is hectic, its streets are wild, and the atmosphere chaotic. This restaurant fit in perfectly.

Felfela, Cairo

Upon arriving in Cairo, we only knew one thing: we had to eat ful. Ful is Egypt's national dish, made out of fava beans. I know ful from Israel, as a hummus topping that I usually avoid. But in Egypt, ful replaces hummus as the condiment (meal) of choice and I didn't know how I would handle it. I was skeptical. 

A trick I've learned: when arriving in a foreign country, the best person to ask for the best local fare is... your taxi driver. Every taxi driver has his own opinion, but he usually knows what's best. For a full day, every taxi driver we asked about ful told us the same thing: felfela. 

As luck has it, Felfela was just down the street from our hostel. It appeared to be a chain; say, a local Egyptian McDonalds for the fava bean lovers. We knew we had been misguided, apparently no taxi driver thinks Americans can handle the real deal, the down and dirty of ful. But we wanted to try it anyway. 

The menu was loaded. Shawarma, ful, falafel, koshari... all the local goodies. And the best part: nothing for over two pounds, an equivalent of less than 50 cents! Oh baby, let's splurge.

You order the food up front and then wait for your meal to pop out of this tiny window. We went at lunch time, so there was a long long line, but we still didn't have to wait more than a few minutes for our food. 

First things first: When traveling, it's crucial to try the local specialties. This is Koshari, a staple of Egyptian street food. It consists of pasta, rice, lentils, chickpeas and fried onions, all covered in tomato sauce. Mix, mix, mix and you have a great combination. I specifically loved (and wanted more of) the lentils and fried onions, and would have liked a little less pasta, but it was still a flawless combination. And filling! Definitely more than just a side dish. 

I also ordered the mix sandwich, which contained ful, eggplant and falafel. Perfect for me! Falafel in Egypt (also called Ta'amiya) is made out of fava beans, different than the chickpea based Israeli balls. The debate was heated between Egypt and Israeli falafel, but I personally think that these fava falafel were so much better! They were bigger and crunchier and green inside. I loved them. Plus, the whole sandwich tasted so much fresher than an Israeli falafel sandwich, where you end up feeling sick from fried-ness for days afterwards. (But you always end up coming back for more... grrr) The eggplant salad tricked me into thinking I was eating healthy. I couldn't really taste the ful, but it didn't matter, because Felfele is not about ful. It's about fast, good, Egyptian food. 



A success! Especially the koshari. We ended up going back to Felfela the next day too, even though it was just a fast food chain. I mean, come on, everyone's doing it. 

Abu Hasaan

I'm back in Israel! This time, living on my own. Earlier this year, while my roommate and I browsed craigslist desperately in search of budget living options, I had only one requirement: that our summer digs be at least within a reasonable range of Abu Hasaan, my favorite place in the whole world.

The hummus culture of Israel is defining; a crucial part of eating in this country is understanding and appreciating a hummusia (a hummus joint). At a real, classic, Arab hummusia, hummus is the only item on the non-existent menu. You can order hummus in any way you want: with ful (beans), with egg, with hot sauce. My favorite is when there's a masabacha option, a hummus variant that is creamier. Usually, a good hummus plate comes with zatar, charif spice, full chickpeas, and puddles of olive oil. On the side, obviously a big pile of pita is a requirement, but usually a plate of onion, tomato and pickles arrive too.

Here's when you know good hummus: when you don't need the pita because you'd rather eat the whole plate like soup with a spoon. 

The hummus debate in Israel becomes personal, fast. Everyone has their favorite hummusia and their preferred way of eating each delicious bowl. There's obviously Abu Shukri located centrally in Jerusalem's old city, where the hummus comes with falafel balls. Then there's Hummus Said in Akko, with the creamiest and softest chickpeas you'll ever find. But in my mind, there's no competition: Yaffo's Abu Hasaan is, far and away, the best hummus in Israel.

All of these people lined up outside at 11 am seem to agree:

The restaurant is just these few tables, where everyone crams in with strangers at any open seat opportunity. You sit next to who ever is there and watch them scoop up the last drops of hummus as you wait impatiently for yours to arrive. Although the wait is short: you order your plate on the way to your seat, and usually by the time you're settled, a fresh plate is already on its way.
Simplicity is beauty.
And here it is! A full plate of masabacha. This plate just melted in my mouth, a perfect blend of all the different ingredients that are meant to be joined. The olive oil seeps into the eggy puree, and gets accentuated by the spices on top. It's actually.. perfect. I like to cut up little onion pieces for a little zest, but to each his own. 
Abu Hasaan is only open from 11-3, so go quick. You'll be bursting with heaviness after your plate, but you won't mind. If you have the will power, walk up the street and buy a knafe at the dessert shop up the street.

Peace, love and hummus. 

Seafood Market of Manila, The Philippines

At the seafood market of Manila, the food experience is highly interactive. You enter, and walk through an alley way where the fish smells immediately overwhelm. All of a sudden, "buy my lobster, ma'am". "You want squid, ma'am". "Big tiger prawns.. ma'am." The most polite way I've ever been hassled, but being hassled all the same. Rows and rows of women sitting in buckets of live crabs, followed by mountains of mussels, and aquariums of you name it. And the best part? This is where you pick your food, and then, voila, a restaurant next door cooks it for you.

We decided on "Squared", one of the many restaurants adjacent to the market. Our waitor, Jerry, took us on a tour where we were to decide our seafood items. Each vendor tries to reel you in (no pun intended). This man showed us his tiger prawns and crabs, hoping to win our money over his next door neighbor.

The food is fresh, exotic, authentic. Take a look at the colors of these lobsters! These are no shabby crustaceans.
We obviously started by choosing a lobster. What is a gourmet seafood feast without lobster? After weeding through the blues, greens, and pinks of the regular lobsters, we chose our future meal. Weighing in at a whopping 2.3 kilos, here's our first course:

Next, were the shrimps. A half kilo of these meaty crawlers, freshly iced.

Monica wanted to try shelled fish. I think she thought the whole open-swallow-chew process would be fun. But for a non fish eater, that's a pretty bold move. We landed on mussels, which seemed the tamest of our options. Next were scallops, my dad's favorites.And then... freshly caught before our eyes... a live lapu-lapu fish.
Here is Jerry, carrying our catch to the restaurant.
Next, it was on us to decide how each should be cooked. The lighting in the restaurant wasn't condusive to good photos, but here are a few:

Lapu-Lapu, steamed with soy sauce.Scallops, purely baked. Naked.And... oh baby... a monster of a lobster loaded with sweet chili sauce.
And then of course, we had the mussels steamed with onion dipping sauce, and the shrimp cooked with butter-garlic amazingness.

My clear winner was the lobster. I wanted to put the sauce all over me and live in a bucket of it. I loaded up a bowl with rice, lobster, sauce, and the eggplant we ordered for my vegetarian friends (if I can even call them friends when they skipped this amazing meal...). The combinations were superb. Lobster is just so thick, so real, and you forget that you're eating about a billion calories of cholesterol because you just float on an indulgent cloud until you explode from fullness.

Monica liked the shrimp best, but mostly for the sauce (can't really go wrong with garlic and butter.) The texture of shrimp prompted a large debate at the table. The outcome was negligible because all I really learned was that real fish eaters like shrimp, and people who don't like shrimp texture are just not made for fine dining.

I would also like to note that fish is best when cooked in a light sauce. I felt that way in Turkey, and tonight's soy sauce subtelty only reinforced my theory. Just a reminder for the next time I cook fish.

And finally, for us real fish lovers: naked scallops are wonderful. If you can handle them in sauce, you should be able to appreciate them plain. And really, the same goes for mussels. I may have learned tonight that all those shell-creatures (oysters, mussels, etc...) are not just for the experience, but can also be a real delicacy. I'm not saying I'm jumping for the next opportunity to slip that slime down my throat, but I am starting to like them for their taste.

I don't know how this always happens, but once again, at the end of the meal all the empty dishes were crowded around yours truly. Mmm... worth it though. All my stomach pain and fullness... so worth it.

Our Best Meal So Far

We thought we couldn't top our Father's Day Buffet last night. We thought it could not be done. We spent two hours in heaven last night, at an all-you-can-eat buffet at the top of a mall in Ho Chi Minh City. The stations were: create your own pasta, pizza, tempura, sushi, shelled fishes (four types of snails or mussels), hot-pot (raw items to be cooked at a boiling pot of water at your table- including meats, fishes and vegetables), seafood (stir fry shrimp, seafood gratin, fish in cream sauce), soup (chicken beef or veggie), spring rolls, hot foods (all meats imaginable, rice, noodles, veggies), salad bar, dessert bar, ice cream truck, crepes.

I left FULL. We had tried to make it a competition, but it wasn't really a fair one because Monica can NOT keep up with the power-stomachs that Eli and I trained for buffets. Buffets are all about strategy, no novice could compete with old time buffet pros. It's all about snacking while you walk from station to station, starting out small, working your way up, not wasting stomach space on something you don't love. Puhleeeeeeese, don't mess with me.

Anyway, we thought it was the best meal possible. For food and for experience, there was no other way we would have been able to sample Vietnamese food so freely. But then.. today happened.

Walking around Ho Chi Minh City looking for a place to eat pho, we stumbled across a low hanging awning covering 60 or so loud, beer drinking men. We just stopped and watched them for a while until Eli suggested we join them.

He was SO right. Being the only westerners, and one of very few women, the three of us got STARED DOWN as we walked to an empty table in the back. But these weren't stares of anger; veryone in the place wanted us to be there so badly. Within about thirty seconds of being seated, three beer glasses were put in front of us and the table of men next to us raised their glasses to us. This would become a theme throughout our lunch- we were toasted about every 3 minutes from all surrounding tables. So many times in fact, that I often had to interrupt a bite to take a swig of beer. I wonder how many half chewed pieces of mushroom I swallowed trying to keep up... I also think my thumb is sore from all the thumbs-up I had to reciprocate.

We didn't know what to order so I took a stroll around other tables to see if there was anything in common. As I walked by tables, everyone wanted me to have what they were having. Coaxed into one table, I was hand fed a piece of beef and some french fries from a man's chopsticks. And when I liked it, they couldn't have been happier. Afterwards, they watched me order and I felt a lot of pressure to order their beef, but I didn't. It was good though, I promise!

They loved us.

We finally decided: the stupid vegetarians ordering fried rice and tofu, while I got mushroom prawns. Then, as the menu was being taken from me, I noticed an eggplant dish and quickly added that to my list too, becuase, come on, it's eggplant.

The shrimp was so good. The huge black mushrooms were fresh and covered in garlic, and the shrimp blended so well into the whole dish. I've eaten shrimp once or twice a day since entering Vietnam, but these were the best yet.

My eggplant though... ahh, clear winner. Freshly grilled, the egglpant was cut in cubes as opposed to the thin American slices I'm used to. This changed everything- making the dish about the EGGPLANT and not about the sauce. I tried it first plain, but it tasted just like grilled eggplant. Way better with the sweet sauce they gave me on the side. Not that I wouldn't have eaten it plain, obviously I would have loved it. It's just better with sauce.

Eli and I love eggplant. LOVE. Compete in loving it, even. So when Eli first tried the eggplant without the sauce and didn't love it, I accused him of not being a true eggplant lover. A true eggplant lover would love their eggplant, even if it's naked. He was MAD. All day he's been trying to tell me all the reasons he loves eggplant, how he loves eggplant prepared, how often he eats it. Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. I'm just saying that I ate most of the dish and I like it plain too.

Finally- it's important to mention the beer. Saigon beer, named for the city herself. It was spicy! And also.. salty? It made my tongue tingle. But both Eli and Monica agreed, it was salty. I really liked it though.

The whole lunch was a trip. Being cheered for eating, being applauded for just being there. And the whole place didn't even have a name, I don't think. It was just a hole in the wall for the locals. But we found it, and therefore, we won.