But not to the beach-- i haven't been to the beach at all since i came here... UGH!!
So I had an interaction with a shrimp and a cute waitress at the "eem-ka" (Josh Lobel / J-Lo told me that that's how the Israeli's day "YMCA") in Jerusalem over a week ago. The Y here is not a place for boys in leather to lather each other down and eat hot stew, but rather a fancy hotel and utterly not kosher restaurant.
So I had an interaction with a shrimp and a cute waitress at the "eem-ka" (Josh Lobel / J-Lo told me that that's how the Israeli's day "YMCA") in Jerusalem over a week ago. The Y here is not a place for boys in leather to lather each other down and eat hot stew, but rather a fancy hotel and utterly not kosher restaurant.
I didn't mean to say "eat hot stew" up there. I mean I did, but the spelling stands.
It was the day that the Kerber family arrived (Hope, Justin, Small-E, Daisy), and things were not in good shape due to a filthy apartment with an icky couch, so me and Howie G and Jen-O and J-Lo and Liz-Lo were trying to curb the Kerber's ire with some victuals and conversation. So there I am, fresh from the West Bank, sitting at a restaurant in Jerusalem, and i see meat on the menu, and I see cheese on the menu, and i think, "how odd, that isn't proper in a nice israeli restaurant." And then i see SHRIMP on the menu, and I am utterly conflaburgasted by the fact that I was in an unkosher restaurant in Israel. I mean, I once ate in a not-kosher felafel place in Hadera years ago, but still a felafel place, nu? This was my first encounter with the mysterious (and seemingly not-so-elusive) DAVKA GLATT TREYF offerings of the Holy Land. (translation-- totally shrimp, yo).
And i was wearing tzitzit and a kippah, and the waitress was adorable, and i was giddy with the juxtapose-- i mean, six weeks (approx.) Kosher and Shomer Shabbat, and it's like I had forgotten all my porky friends at New York's finest chinese dives.... It was so nutty, and wacky, and, well, shrimpy-----------------I ordered it.
Then washed hands (netillat yadayim) and made appropriate blessings (hamotzi lechem) and ate. And afterwards blessed again (for the good land that He has given us).
That night, or maybe the next, middle of the night, I had a scare that the old "on-the-bathroom-floor-in-utter-internal-distress-begging-God-to-stop-the-pain" adventure was back (see the wanderingstu archives from 1987, 1992 and 2001 for more on Divine Wrath on the bathroom floor). I hung out on the can, then did a little weeping and crying to God, and the pain never got too too bad, but my stomach was a wreck for 2 days. By Friday night it had morphed into the snotty cold, the end of which I am only now, a week later, seeing. (don't end a sentence with a preposition)
It might be fair to mention that the shrimp lunch was followed by a barbecue at my house for a Sheva Brachot (7 days of partying after a Jewish wedding), and my roommate Yaakov, Der Grillmeister, left his duties briefly, and some cat let me eat an undercooked piece of chicken. That trickster God-- dishing out punishment, then giving hard science to defend alternate explanations of reality that aren't as dramatic or sexy.
So I been sick, and spent last Shabbat in utter blech (except for my lovely Shabbat dinner with Julie Weill and the delicious and tiny Ruthie), and had by then sunk into a yicky lonely funk ("crushing depression" is too harsh a word for a specific portion of wanderingstu.com's more delicate readership), which a week of pretty good classes (you can't get overexcited and decide on the semester based on the first week alone), and some pleasant social interactions have done pretty well to alleviate for the moment.
It was the day that the Kerber family arrived (Hope, Justin, Small-E, Daisy), and things were not in good shape due to a filthy apartment with an icky couch, so me and Howie G and Jen-O and J-Lo and Liz-Lo were trying to curb the Kerber's ire with some victuals and conversation. So there I am, fresh from the West Bank, sitting at a restaurant in Jerusalem, and i see meat on the menu, and I see cheese on the menu, and i think, "how odd, that isn't proper in a nice israeli restaurant." And then i see SHRIMP on the menu, and I am utterly conflaburgasted by the fact that I was in an unkosher restaurant in Israel. I mean, I once ate in a not-kosher felafel place in Hadera years ago, but still a felafel place, nu? This was my first encounter with the mysterious (and seemingly not-so-elusive) DAVKA GLATT TREYF offerings of the Holy Land. (translation-- totally shrimp, yo).
And i was wearing tzitzit and a kippah, and the waitress was adorable, and i was giddy with the juxtapose-- i mean, six weeks (approx.) Kosher and Shomer Shabbat, and it's like I had forgotten all my porky friends at New York's finest chinese dives.... It was so nutty, and wacky, and, well, shrimpy-----------------I ordered it.
Then washed hands (netillat yadayim) and made appropriate blessings (hamotzi lechem) and ate. And afterwards blessed again (for the good land that He has given us).
That night, or maybe the next, middle of the night, I had a scare that the old "on-the-bathroom-floor-in-utter-internal-distress-begging-God-to-stop-the-pain" adventure was back (see the wanderingstu archives from 1987, 1992 and 2001 for more on Divine Wrath on the bathroom floor). I hung out on the can, then did a little weeping and crying to God, and the pain never got too too bad, but my stomach was a wreck for 2 days. By Friday night it had morphed into the snotty cold, the end of which I am only now, a week later, seeing. (don't end a sentence with a preposition)
It might be fair to mention that the shrimp lunch was followed by a barbecue at my house for a Sheva Brachot (7 days of partying after a Jewish wedding), and my roommate Yaakov, Der Grillmeister, left his duties briefly, and some cat let me eat an undercooked piece of chicken. That trickster God-- dishing out punishment, then giving hard science to defend alternate explanations of reality that aren't as dramatic or sexy.
So I been sick, and spent last Shabbat in utter blech (except for my lovely Shabbat dinner with Julie Weill and the delicious and tiny Ruthie), and had by then sunk into a yicky lonely funk ("crushing depression" is too harsh a word for a specific portion of wanderingstu.com's more delicate readership), which a week of pretty good classes (you can't get overexcited and decide on the semester based on the first week alone), and some pleasant social interactions have done pretty well to alleviate for the moment.
So that's where the blog was and here's where we are now.
Next time I will try to tell you about Ron Golan the cycling scribe, and the mad junkie who got stabbed after we had felafel.
Shabbat Shalom.
7 comments:
Glatt treyf? isn't that like vegetarian hot dogs?
according to halacha, isn't there a difference if one eats something that is believed to be kosher but turns out not to be vs. eating something non-kosher knowing its treyf?
as for the "punishment." maybe it is more self-inflicted than god-inflicted...
can't wait to see you in a few weeks.
i have missed the neverending rantings of my brother...thanks for bringing them back
sorry to hear about the shrimp event i'm sooooo happy to hear that you feel better and back to the fun to read blog
My Stuart lives over in Israel, My Stuart eats bad shrimp. My Stuart should be back in Natick where my Stuart can partake of LOMOTIL !!!!!Please sing as in My Bonnie lives over the ocean......PS I will be seeing Esta this week in Florida....We will go out to eat but stay away from shrimp....
Hi Stuart -- it's Cathy, Val's Atlanta mom. She gave me your blog address so here I am to wish you well and say hello. You are an awesome journalist and I have loved reading your entries. If the rabbinate doesn't work, you can certainly put together a fantastic documentary.
Val is doing great -- she is loved by so many at Temple Sinai and, of course, my family adores her. I'll see your mom when she comes for Yom Kippur.
I guess G-d was telling you not to eat shrimp anymore -- funny how that works!
What a well loved Rabbi to be you are,Stuart.
Mom, Sister and a multitude of friends.
thanks for stopping by, cathy-- and thanks for taking care of the family. maybe you can make me a scrapbook with a lacquered shrimp mounted on the cover
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