Mystery fruit 15: The Carob Bean

Ehud was spreading a thick layer of this mystery brown spread on his toast a few weeks ago in the group kitchenette. I though it might be a dangerously thick layer of marmite but he informed me that it was carob paste. He also told me that carob beans can be used as a substitute for chocolate. Woah, woah, woah, buddy. There is NO such thing as a substitute for chocolate. This statement alone made me skeptical of the brown bean.

Apparently, carob trees are everywhere and you can pick the beans for free off branches hanging out on to the street from the neighbours' yards when they are all brown and dried up. However, I once spent some quality time with my sister in Tennessee picking up the nasty smelling beans of the honey locust tree which look very similar, so I was reluctant to start chewing on street beans. So when I saw carob beans in the grocery store with a label on them, I bought a couple for us to try.

Eating a carob bean is a lot like gnawing on a tough piece of beef jerky. But instead of the smoked-meat-candy flavour, my taste buds were besieged by the overwhelming flavour of dates mixed with grain. I was suddenly struck by the dusty memory of playing in the grain silo at the farm. But with dates. Very odd. The Chicken complacently chewed all of his, but I had to spit mine out.

Chocolate substitute, my foot.

Shook Guitar Dude

This guy at the shook on Saturday was having a great time. I couldn't help but smile.
I love how this video catches the crazyness of the shook. People passing by, some dancing by, the guy with the board on his head, the cart of boxes, the strollers, the dollies and the ever present Irsaeli yelling into his cellphone while he should be concentrating on something else. If you are really keen eyed, you might spot a Jerusalem Chicken.

Mystery Fruit #13: The Pomme-granate

This morning, I laid siege upon the kitchen armed only with oven cleaner, Ajax and my trusty blue cloth. I cleaned behind the fridge and in the fridge and on the fridge. I cleaned beneath the microwave, in the microwave and on top of the microwave. And worst of all, I cleaned in the oven, behind the oven and beneath the oven.
There was much grunting, creaking joints, horrible sounds of appliances dragged across tile and the odd curse thrown in for good measure.

While the battle ensued in the kitchen, The Chicken fought gallantly at the most crowded of fronts: the shook on the day before a holiday. Yes, yet another holiday, Succot, starts tonight. He came home with the spoils of war. He presented his fair, oven soot streaked wife with a whole basket of new mystery fruit.

These fruit are great. They have a wonderful strong fruity smell that is currently masking the stink of oven cleaner. I just want to go into the kitchen to sniff. The white flesh was pretty tasty too. James bravely ate the peel, but I scooped the flesh out with a spoon. "Not bad" we both exclaimed. But oh, the smell. Our kitchen smells like fruit heaven.

They have a weird spiky crown like a pomegranate but have a colour and flesh texture closer to that of of a pear or apple. Therefore, I name this definitely-a-repeat-buy mystery fruit "pomme- granate". (I know, subtle but important spelling difference, here.)

Worst Meal Ever

It is Friday night – the start of Shabbat – and James and I always cook a big special meal. But this one will go down in the record books as one of the most special.

First of all, we decided to finally cook up some of the Karah. Thanks guys for your suggestions and investigative journalism. Polly's farmers' market guy was a little vague with "You cook. You eat.", as was Bryan's slightly better suggestion of "Soups and stuff." Siu's ideas were more specific but unfortunately shrimps and oyster sauce are not kosher so not available in our grocery store. (Which, as you will read, is somewhat tame compared to what we discovered IS available in the grocery store)

So I went my own route and tried frying slices, because everything tastes good fried. Right? The whole thing was like a cucumber out of control. Well first of all, the skin was like boot leather and I almost lost fingers cutting the slices. The inside had watery flesh, a non-descript smell and huge seeds. I fried them up, sprinkled them with salt and pepper and hoped for great things. The reviewers comments?

"These are awful. F-ing awful."

Two thirds of the plate ended up in the trash. Of course, I still have a foot an a half left of this not very tasty vegetable. Any takers?

But the real epicenter of the meal was the roast beef. We have not cooked beef since the spring because it is expensive and not very good here in Israel. But every once in a while I have to let my inner Alberta girl out and gnaw on some red meat. We decided to splurge on a roast from the frozen food section that was next to some other roasts with pictures of cows on them. I swear we spent at least five minutes trying to make sure we bought the right animal this time.

This afternoon I roasted it up, but the result was very disappointing. The flavor was so odd that we questioned whether we had accidentally purchased a piece of old mutton or something. To figure out where we had gone wrong, after dinner I dug though the slimy pieces of karah skins in the trash to locate the label from the roast started translating it. First word meant "roast" and the next "calf". So far so good. Roast veal. Not bad.

But what did the last word mean? I now wish I had never looked it up and would still be in blissful ignorance. But no..... I had to know it all. I looked it up in the dictionary, and when I saw the translation, I immediately shut the book, put my hand over my mouth and exclaimed "Oh, God." I told James. He turned pale and said, "I think I am going to hurl."

The last word meant "from fetus."

Who would sell such a thing in a grocery store! And there is no getting rid of it. The whole house smells like roast cow fetus. I have been laughing hysterically with tears rolling down my face and poor James is switching between denial ("It can't be fetus!") and getting shivers of the heebeejeebees. Nasty. I think we will just stick to chicken from now on.

At least the boiled carrots were ok.

Shanah Tovah!

Happy new year everyone! Shanah tovah! Welcome to the year 5770! May it bring you all sorts of good things.

We got invited, yet again, by my boss and his generous family for a BBQ- feast. With grandparents, three families and what seemed like a dozen kids under the age of 10, it was a loud, boisterous affair with Guitar Hero being the highlight of the kids' night. The table was piled with food and my flavour buds were happy indeed (especially since gfilte fish was thankfully not served), while everything, from research, to vaccines, to breaking an arm falling off the monkey bars, to our bad but progressing hebrew, to car seats was discussed.

I am all for the edible symbols of Rosh Hashana (literal translation: head of the year).

Apples and honey to bring you sweet things.

Pomegranates for the multiplicity of fruitfulness

Mandrake liqueur for fertility and, well, you know, X-rated things. (James informs me that the neighbors at five thirty am were vigorously and vocally feeling the effects of last night's mandrake liqueur)

At the market on Friday they were selling these giant vegetables that the veggie dude told us were "ka-rah" and with some pointing and bad Hebrew, we determined they are in the zucchini family. We decided to buy one to try and of course came home with the largest one- just for a silly picture.

The grandma, Sarah, tells me, Ka-rah too is an obscure symbol of Rosh Hashana- so obscure that she had only seen the word for the first time yesterday in a booklet about the holiday. Something, she said, about defeating enemies. All I can see is that you could probably beat your enemies over the head with it. Since I don't have many enemies here, I would prefer to eat it. Because the Israelis were pretty unfamiliar with it too, we are still stuck with a giant vegetable on the counter, don't know the English name and have no clue what to do with it.

All right you readers with all-vegetable-knowing Chinese Grandmas, I need you to help me out here. What is it and how do I cook it?

Update: Mystery Tree

I had conflicting reports from my sources. Some said mango. Others said definitely not mango but declined to make their own guess.

A while ago, I solved the mystery by stepping on a fallen fruit and ripping off its green exterior. It turns out that inside those green blobs is a walnut.

As they read this, my Dad the park ranger, my sister the tree ecologist and my brother the forester will disappointingly sigh "Oh, Janet" for not knowing a nature nugget that would have been so obvious to them. And I should have known. There was a big walnut along my Grandma's laneway at the farm that I climbed every so often.

My family may be disappointed, but me even more so. Even lemons would have been better than boring old walnuts.

Mystery Fruit 11: The Fig

Every year at Christmas time I sing and demand some figgy pudding. Despite my annual pleading cries, I have never even seen a real fig let alone taste one or sample some of the famed figgy pudding.

So I have taken matters into my own hands. The figs are in season here and they look like big soft green chestnuts.
It actually took us three purchases of figs in order for me to actually get to taste them.

First Batch: mushed beyond recognition on the walk home.
Second Batch: Slightly mushed. Left on counter overnight. Attracted fruit flies. Hubby put in bag on porch. Rotten and moldy within a few hours.
Third Batch: Purchased at the fruit store very close to our house. Only partially mangled and eaten directly to avoid any more catastrophes.

Now I know why figs are usually dried. What a pain in the fig.

It turns out that figs are extremely sweet without much flavour. Consequently, The Chicken loved them and gobbled them all up. I'll stick to dates.

Even better than the fruits are the leaves. We found a tree hanging into the street from a nearby backyard. The leaves were way more fun. BEHOLD, not Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, but Hen and Chicken near the garden of Levi.

Mystery fruit 10: Mystery Fruit Tree

Twice a day I walk past the Israel Museum and this seemingly inconsequential tree out front. For months, I walked past his leafy branches without notice but lately, a change has occurred that has prompted this note.

Nestled amongst the leaves, there are fruits growing and being in a public place, these fruits will be FREE fruits when they ripen.

But this is the question: what kind of fruits are they? Oranges? Lemons? Mangos?(please please please let them be mangos!)

We await the change in season with bated – and salivating – breath.

Just so you know- I like fruit.

Mystery Fruit 10: The Sabras

Israelis can count themselves amongst an elite group of edible nationalities containing the Kiwis (New Zealanders) and the Krauts (Germans) and possibly the Dutch if you count Dutchie doughnuts. Israelis call themselves Sabras which is a type of edible cactus (the prickly pear cactus to us anglos) that we have seen growing on the side of the road in abundance.

Itzik tells me as a child he and his siblings would risk life and limb collecting the fruit with the traditional weapons: a long stick with a tin can on the end and a bucket of water to help the thorns fall off. He said that even so, you often got thorns in your lips that would sting for days. We chose the less dangerous route and went armed to the market with a hand full of change and bought some de-torned specimens.

Indeed it is true that Israelis are like Sabras. They are thorny on the outside, but their insides are soft and sweet. Unfortunately, the insides also have seeds and you have to eat the seeds with the flesh. I guess no fruit or Israeli is perfect, even on the inside.

Both James and I agreed that there was something in the smell and the flavour that was vaguely pumpkin like, although when Itzik gave me one last week and I mentioned so, he looked at me like I was crazy.

The Sabras if a fun an exotic fruit to have while I am here, but it lacks the ka-pow flavour to make it a fruit I will really miss when I leave.

Mystery Fruit #9: The Lychee

The other week, I let James sleep in and I ventured to the shook alone. I knew what these fruits were only because the booth owner was yelling out "Lychee!, Lychee!" at a superhuman volume. An iconic shook salesman, imagine a balding, middle aged man whose hands and once-white T-shirt are always shamelessly and brightly stained with whatever fruit is in season.

When I asked for some lychee, he started to energetically fill a bag and I cried "Hetzi, Hetzi!, Yesh rak Ani" (Half! Half! There's only me.) It is always best to stretch the truth a bit when haggling.

Shook dudes reply? "Give me one month, I solve this problem."

I laughed and declined his matchmaking services, and bought the lychee.

James was skeptical of the lychee when I got home. They have a leathery and bumpy red outer shell that is easily peeled off the pearly white flesh inside. You can see the big black pit beneath that takes up most of the volume of the fruit. James is correct, the fruit to seed volume ratio is disappointingly low. For a fruit the size of an apricot, you only get the flesh of a cherry or two. Plus all that annoying peeling. The lychee is for those who don't mind delayed gratification.

But on a hot lazy Friday afternoon, I didn't mind. I happily peeled and slurped away at the bag of sweet leche all afternoon while reading the news online and leaving sticky fingerprints on my keyboard.

Mystery Fruit: Mystery Veggies.

The shook lately has hit an all new level of yummyness. All sorts of fruits have recently come in and we are PIGGING out on plums, apricots, strawberries and melons. I can't wait until the cherries and nectarines come down in price. Sadly for you, all the fruits have been pretty normal lately. Although, there are fresh figs in the shook these days that I am itching to try out and Itzik tells me it is cactus season soon.

We have come across a couple of strange veggies lately. Well strange-shaped veggies. I couldn't resist buying the cabbage that looked like a dunce cap (James models it beautifully in the pic- I really must put the camera in James' hand one of these days so I have pictures of me!).

The other Friday I elbowed my way past some woman trying to pull a your-veggies-are-too-expensive-give-me-a-deal (on cucumbers that cost less than one dollar a kilo) in order to by some strange hairy cucumbers. I had all sorts of visions a great mystery fruit entry with all sorts of phallic innuendo. I took pics, cut them up, tried a piece and it tasted....like a cucumber.

Ah well. Not all discoveries are exciting, but we will continue to tenaciously taste test all in the name of science.

Update: Mystery Fruit #8

Teardrops of the Fruit Gods, aka "Shesek" in Hebrew, just keep getting better and better.
It has been brought to my attention that there are trees practically dripping with ripe specimens of this mystery fruit all thoughout our neighborhood. Itzik tells me the rule is that any fruit hanging over the street is fair game. He and his 10 year old daughter spent a happy afternoon last weekend walking the streets of Talbeih and Rehavia picking and eating keseks right off the trees.
So only not are they delicious, they are free for those of us with long arms!

Mystery Fruit #8: Teardrops of the Fruit Gods

After a long hiatus, this strange fruit is back to reporting on strange fruit. I realize that last week's posts had a lot of religion in them seeing as it was both Passover and Holy week. But I promise, these mystery fruit have come straight from the heavens.

They have a slightly fuzzy shell that is barely noticeable when you bite into the juicy flesh. The best and the sweetest specimens had to be eaten with satisfying slurping noises over the sink as the juice dribbled everywhere. Inside there were anywhere from two to six brown seeds that popped out easily and were barely an inconvenience. So they get a 4.5 out of five for fruity convenience (where apple being the most convenient and the most annoying is the pomegranate).

They are the perfect combination of sweet and a bit of tangy- somewhat like what a kiwi tastes like when it hasn't traveled the globe. A four out of five for flavor (wild blackberries being the best and the dubious holder of the worst tasting fruit award is Quince).

So that makes a eight point five out of ten from the Canadian Judges! These mystery fruits were so tasty they got the rare honour of being purchased twice, despite costing a shocking eight bucks a basket.

Mystery Fruit Number 7: The Kumquat

If navel oranges laid eggs, these would be them. I bought a small basket of these mystery fruit at the market yesterday and brought them home for James who was laid up in bed with a cold.

We boldly peeled these wee citrus fruits and tried them out. James said the fruit was too high maintenance for him and I was inclined to agree, even though they were already getting low marks for being lip puckeringly sour. The surface to volume ratio was way too large for them to be a repeat purchase. (I can’t believe I just said that as a nanoparticle researcher. I should be ashamed of myself.)

But we had a whole basket to get through, so I peeled a couple and plunked them in hot water with some mint as tea for the snuffling Chicken on the couch. The tea turned out to be quite tasty despite the odd appearance. There is a bit of a tiff-tiff in our house about the name of the tea. The Chicken wants the G-rated “Orange Ball Tea”. I happen to think they look like a part of the male anatomy – complete with mint leaf for modesty – and the tea should be named accordingly. (And let’s not forget the nifty alliteration)

In the evening we went to the boss’ house for dinner and a bowl of them was sitting on the table. I asked the boss’ daughter about them and she informed me that you are supposed to eat the peel too as that is where the sweetness hides out. Knowing that, they present quite a tasty medley of flavours: there is the sour of the juice, the sweet in the white part, and the undeniable hint of bitter in the peel that is in every citrus.

Two thumbs up for the cumbsquat, or kumquat or whatever they are called.

Mystery Fruit Number 6: The Passionfruit

This one looked like a green dinosaur egg and when we cut it open it was filled with bright yellow fish egg goo. “I know what this is!” I said. “This is on the front of the juice carton!”

We each took a half and spooned out the radioactive looking flesh. Miracles of Miracles! There is a mystery fruit James likes! “Yummy!” he exclaimed. Two thumbs up for the passionfruit.

And by the way, I think the passionfruit glasses on The Chicken may be an improvement from his current pair that make him look like Bill Gates.

Mystery Fruit Number 5 and other Culinary Adventures

This fruit looks like a cross between a tomato and an orange and tastes like a cross between a mango and a carrot. I thought it was yummy and convenient- no pit and the orange flesh can be scooped out of the skin with a spoon. This is the kind of fruit that ends up in exotic juice mixes. The Chicken, of course didn’t like it, but then again, the party-pooper hasn’t liked a mystery fruit yet. I think what he really wants is a strawberry (a truly A-grade fruit for him) and because they aren’t strawberries, he doesn't give the poor fruits a chance and immeadiately poo-poos them. So don't listen to The Chicken, this fruit was yummy.

I should tell you that there is a guy at the market with a table full of strange mushrooms. When we run out of mystery fruit, we can move on to trying mystery mushrooms which may prove even more interesting.

We have been on some other culinary adventures. Last night I invented KFC: Kickin’ Flippin' Chicken, as The Chicken calls it. I tossed in a roasting bag: two pieces of chicken, two diced tomatoes, two potatoes, some Jerusalem artichoke, onion, lots of fresh rosemary, salt and pepper and garlic powder and roasted it all for forty minutes. Delish. To top it off, we had my famous cucumber, orange, yoghurt and fresh dill salad. These ingredients may seen a little exotic for your fridge, but being market patrons where fresh spices are 50 cents for a huge bunch, we are cooking like Jamie Oliver.

(FYI, Rosemary is totally worth buying fresh: Our bunch still looks perfect after two weeks in the fridge and we have added it to lots of things especially soups, potatoes, chicken, J-artichoke etc.)

The night before, we cooked up the ground lamb I accidentally bought thinking it was beef (Yes, this was the second time I made that mistake). We made some killer tomato sauce from scratch and served it on long noodles. This dish we have called “Lamb-burg-gini.”

Mystery Fruit #2

The Chicken’s first foray to the shuk was a little overwhelming for him, but we got our veggies for the week and bought a mystery fruit of which we do not know the name. (Bryan, all-knowing strange-vegetable god, can you help us out on this one?) It was yellow like a pear, but had a bumpy bottom like a red delicious apple. After the pomela experience I was expecting great things. I cut up a couple of slices of the white flesh for taste testing.
This is what the judges had to say:
Judge 1:
“Uck, ech, blech, pthb, pthub, pthub”
Judge 2:
“I don’t know what the heck that was, but it was nasty.”

It was so bitter it sucked every last bit of moisture out of our mouths. Overall two thumbs down for mystery fruit number 2.