HAIFA ON MY MIND A recent post on Shakshuka via The New York Times opened the floodgates of memories of Mt. Carmel in Haifa, Israel, many Pesach ago. (Pesach is the Jewish Passover, and that is why it coincides with the Christian Holy Week. Remember why Jesus was in Jerusalem for the Last Supper?) Carmel. Galilee. Bethlehem. Jerusalem. Nazareth. Negev. The Dead Sea. Masada. Mt. Tabor. Golgotha. Tel Aviv. Mount of Olives. St. Peter’s Fish. The Technion. Kibutzim. Dinarim. Etc. Not to mention – you guessed it – Jewish cooking. During the three months that I stayed there as a trainee in Women in Development (this was to become later as Gender in Development), we were encouraged to cook our national food and share it with our co-trainees from other parts of the world. When our House Mother announced this policy on the first day of the course, I was – again, you guessed it – the first to raise my hand to volunteer. In the unbridled exuberance of my naïve youth, I offered our national dish, ADOBO, and everybody, all 30 of my classmates, cheered. And to think we were meeting for the first time! I was graciously shown the large kitchen, with gleaming tiles and utensils, where I could prepare my show-off dish. But when she and her staff heard the first item among the ingredients, their jaws fell like the fall of the Western Wall. I thought I heard them wail like Rachel over the death of her children. I also thought I saw David rending his garments over the conquest of Jerusalem. Silence froze the room, as if the Angel of Death had passed. End of the story. It was winter, both outside and inside my soul. I defined the meaning of humiliation and embarrassment from a very felt, a very personal experience -- and so far from home. Where is mother? That’s how I, unceremoniously, learned about kosher. Yes, on the first day of classes. Oh Gentile, Uncircumcised Me! But that’s also how I learned to cook Shakshuka, which came with our first evening meal. It was love at first sight. Afterward, on Friday afternoons, just before the staff left for Sabbath, I would ask permission to cook this sumptuous dish to enjoy for breakfast, or lunch, or snack, or dinner during the weekend. Ah, how I loved this dainty and light dish. (I must say here that three months without pork was hell for me and my Filipino classmates. So weekends we would go to Chinatown for a taste of ham and bacon. Dear Ahuva, Hava, if you are reading this now, forgive me for my transgressions.This will be the subject of a future post.) Shakshuka is akin to what I call our Guisadong Itlog except that it’s not scrambled. So it is so easy to prepare. And the basic ingredients are readily available. First, in a pan or small wok, you sauté garlic and onion in a little oil. When these are wilted and fragrant, and the onion is clear, you add a can of diced/chopped/sliced tomatoes – together with the juice. While the mixture is simmering over slow flame, let your mind work and your eyes rove to see what it is you wish to add: in the Jewish kitchen, Olives? Capers? Flakes of lamb meat? Leftover strudel? Chili flakes? Feta? It is at this point that you set yourself apart from other cooks, that you assert your individuality, that you boast of your genius and creativity. Then when the mixture has thickened (about 15 minutes) and is almost dry (that’s why your flame must be very low and slow, or else you will have a recipe for shame), you break the fresh eggs over it. Note that I said eggs – plural – because you should always use more than one. Arrange them as aesthetically as your imagination lets you soar; in my book, I want to cover the whole tomato mixture. Continue the simmering until the eggs are cooked according to your preference and visual delight. By this time, the tomato mixture will have turned into a most inviting and glorious red gel. I want mine to look like pizza. Consummate the process by sprinkling your dish with celery leaves or stalks, or parsley, or pepper, or crushed garlic. In Israel, I would take it with pita bread or falafel and other dishes that the staff had pre-cooked for us. In Imus today, light years from Haifa, I added tuyo flakes and am pairing my Shakshuka with loaf bread (kasi wala nang pandesal sa panaderia) and a piece of Longganisang Imus on a bed of Pansit-Pansit/Grilled Eggplant Salad Accented With Kesong Puti. All in the name of Filipinization. Atin ‘to. Arev lachekh! Delicious! Masarap! As you can see, my apo, Louie, couldnt wait for his slice. And oh, dont forget to clean your plate with a piece of loaf (at kainin yan, siyempre, di naman yan basahan, no? Tinapay yan, kinakain!) Hevenu shalom aleichem. Boker tov. Aruhat boker. (Kumusta. Magandang umaga. Almusal na tayo.)
Posted on: Sat, 27 Sep 2014 01:30:45 +0000
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