Dateline Jerusalem — Pink pomegranates? Green oranges? Purple plums the size of large naval oranges or small grapefruit?
And those are the fruits I can identify.
What about the yellow fruit shaped like an artichoke with green-tipped spiky outer “leaves” that open like a blooming flower that also comes in orange with red-tipped “leaves,” their insides similar to kiwi?
I cannot even pronounce its name. There are a lot of other fruits and vegetables that I have never seen before coming to Israel.
Today I went to the fruit and vegetable store. Daily, farms deliver their fresh produce.
The store itself is smaller than my apartment living room. In one corner is a giant squash the size of a round coffee table. It must take a hacksaw to cut through it.
Shoppers buy pieces of squash according to their needs. Most of the fruit and vegetables are in boxes unloaded from the farm trucks on the street outside the store. No one would even consider filling up the colorful plastic bags with various fruits and vegetables on the street without entering the store to pay for them.
People in Israel trust each other. At least they do in my neighborhood.
The owner of the store is Russian. He speaks only Russian and Hebrew. Somehow, we are able to communicate. He knows me already.
When I walk into his store, he looks at me and says the name of my street and apartment number, and he asks if I want my purchases delivered. What a memory he has considering I only go there occasionally. He is easily 75 years old. The two men who work for him and make the deliveries, look in their 80s.
An Intriguing Balancing Act
The oldest looking man secures my crate of fruit and vegetables to the back of his bicycle along with other deliveries he must make in the neighborhood. Then this 80- plus-year-old man rides off on his bike. It is a sight to see this aging man riding a bike from one apartment to another with cartons and crates balancing on the back of his bike. He, too, does not speak English.
Then I went to the butcher shop and the fish store. Both places have employees who speak English. So I am able to describe what kinds of meat or types of fish I want and how they should cut them for me.
Unfortunately, they do not deliver. By the time I got home with my order, my shoulders and back were aching from the weight of the packages I carried home. At least I get exercise walking from one shop to another throughout my town.
Here Is More Food for Thought
For other groceries and paper products, I go to a supermarket. In fact, I am such a good customer that for Rosh Hashana (Jewish New Year) the market gave me a gigantic gift basket with wine, gourmet candy, cookies, cake, honey and olive oil.
You probably think that food consumes my life. To some extent it is true, especially to look at me.
But, through food I have enjoyed many experiences here in Israel. I have learned about other cultures and customs. I have even finally begun to understand Hebrew.
I watch chefs making delicious meals on Israeli TV cooking shows. They speak Hebrew slowly, point to the ingredients, and besides learning the names of various foods, I have even picked up units of measurement.
L'hitraot. Shachar
Shachar is the Hebrew name of a California-based attorney and former Los Angeles County deputy sheriff who moved to Israel two years ago.
