Shoes and fashions

After completing my errands I decided to collect a sample of fashion photos with my new camera. I wanted a shot of the slutty, jewel-studded platform sandals in little girls' sizes, but was stopped by an owner unfamiliar with the concept, "There's no such thing as bad publicity."

All in all I think the religious fashions have improved over last year, although I wouldn't wear most of these necklines:
Click here to continue reading Shoes and Fashions.

Updated: Lessons for Life: Rude Pizzeria Owner Lambasted on Internet

Who could imagine that a rude storekeeper would attract such attention in our little country, never admired for its warm customer service?

According to financial magazine Globes, a woman came with her autistic child into a pizza store for a lesson in practical living, giving him a 20-shekel bill and instructing him to buy a slice of pizza and a can of tomato juice. The store owner helped another customer instead, despite the boy having stated his order three times. Finally the owner told the boy's mother, "This isn't a school." The mother put the story into an email decrying the owner's rudeness toward children with special needs and included his name and address. Thanks to the internet (she only sent it to fifty of her closest friends), the email spread far and wide and the pizza store owner was harassed. Mothers came into the store, dropped off a copy of the email, and left. Garbage was thrown. 25,000 members joined a Facebook group advocating a boycott of the store.

The Globes reporter was the first party to ask owner Shraga Gross for his version of the story. According to Gross, three mothers came in with their autistic children for this life lesson. The mothers did not coordinate with the store, and chose a time when it was full of customers. Gross claims that the boy did not utter a word, but he did tell the boy's mother, "This is not a school." He admits that he may have been impatient but objects to the personalized campaign against him.

Whichever version is correct, Gross didn't commit a crime. I've been ignored and treated badly by storekeepers and I'm not even autistic. It seems to me that learning that not everyone will go out of their way to be kind to people, whether or not they have special needs, is an important life lesson.

Hat tip: Commenter Keren
For another example of Israeli customer service see Benji's post here.

Update: I don't condone rude behavior. However, the mother was out of line in publicizing the storekeeper's name because of one isolated incident. It's not like the store has a policy that discriminates against autistic children. If she would have e-mailed the story without mentioning the name I would support her 100%.

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Tzniut fashions hit Tel Aviv?

I figure the dress in this picture would fit in well in Bnei Brak:

But the advertisement appeared on the front page of Haaretz's Gallery section.

Without sticking out your behind,
Without pulling in your stomach,
Without dressing short,
Without dressing tight,
Without a pushup, without stiletto [heels], without giggling, without winking, without veiled looks, without appearing hungry, without hiding intelligence.

SEXY (Seksit)
Without operating instructions.

The copy is over the top, but it seems that religious women aren't the only ones having a hard time finding clothes. Anyway that outfit sure beats these.

Cabbage shortage, excess RC

Religious junior and senior high schools start Sukkot vacation from Erev Yom Kippur. This year that means two extra days of vacation, today and Sunday. Sukkot vacation for the younger ones lasts ten days.

That means my 12- and 14-year-olds are busy cooking for Shabbat. The 14-year-old is baking "Chanukah Gelt Double Fudge Cake None Better," from Marcy Goldman's Jewish Holiday Cakes. It calls for flat soda. We happen to have two unopened bottles of RC from Pesach, but we'd have to make a lot of cake to use it up. (Please don't tell anyone I allowed this.) We are making it in a flat pan, with no layers and no frosting. Frosting around here is only for birthdays.

My son A, 12, is making burgul (what Americans called bulgur wheat), potatoes, chicken with vegetables, mayonnaise, and potato kugel. Some family members object if unadulterated potatoes do not appear on the table. A said that he like the feel of raw chicken, bless him. I have challah and soup from Erev Yom Kippur. And the sukkah is being built by my husband and various helpers, slowly but surely.

My sister-in-law invited us for the first day of Sukkot. I offered to bring challah and stuffed cabbage but we can't find cabbage and the stores are unlikely to be restocked on Sunday. That happens sometimes in a Jewish country. . .

My daughter and I just examined the RC supply. We found *four* bottles of the stuff, because I had bought a six-pack on sale. Until my daughter saw the bottles she didn't realize what they were (bilingual vocabulary issue). She belongs to an "anti-Coke" club in school; I hope she won't be expelled. She is also complaining that the RC is not really flat, but I think the recipe will come out fine. My teenage guests for Shabbat chol hamoed should be able to finish off the rest of the RC.

My mother z"l used to buy Coke on two occasions: For Pesach (along with chocolate), because she believed that people needed something sweet to make up for chametz deprivation; and for offering workers who came to the house. Now that I think about it, she kept a few bottles in the basement for that purpose. I guess she didn't worry about it getting flat.

What's My Line? Another Visit to the Shmitah Store

Original post:

A Trip to the Shmitah Store

Zemira is a cashier at "Shefa me-ha-Teva" (Nature's Bounty). We call it the shmita store because it markets the produce of the organization Otzar Haaretz. Otzar Haaretz provides produce acceptable during the sabbatical year, while striving to protect local Jewish agriculture.

Whenever I visit I look for Zemira. She'll get my kids a drink of water, but my four-year-old will never use that store's bathroom again. Zemira knows that the cheaper melons outside the store are not heter mechira but are grown in the arava, just like the Otzar Haaretz melons. More on that in a separate post, bli neder.

Zemira noticed me photographing the produce. When I told her about my post last October, she brought me to the office to pull it up on the computer. Roni, the owner, was disappointed that I don't write in Hebrew. He made sure I photographed Zemira, but refused his own chance at immortality because he hadn't shaved recently.

Roni introduced me to two farmers visiting the store. I wasn't able to confirm the information they gave me.

Rami, pictured above, was a farmer in Gush Katif. He grew tomatoes, sherry (cherry tomatoes), and lettuce. He lived in Kerem Shalom, which is a kilometer from the Egyptian border and two kilometers from the Rafiah crossing to Gaza.

Rami recently moved to Petach Tikva to pursue an artisitic career. Next month his sculpture of the town's founder, Yoel Moshe Salomon, will be exhibited on a main street. In the famous song, The Ballad of Yoel Moshe Salomon [lyrics], Salomon sets out from Jaffa along the Yarkon river on his horse until he reaches the site where Petach Tikva now sits. After a false start, Petach Tikva became the first Jewish city founded in modern times, and recently chose the horse as its municipal symbol. But Rami depicts Salomon riding a motorcycle.

I offered to post a picture of his sculpture, but Rami demurred because "haredim don't buy art." A lot of secular Israelis confuse haredim and religious Zionists and Roni tried to set him straight. I asked Rami to call me when the sculpture goes up; he said he would.

Next I met David, an agronomist who came to assist Roni with a tripsim problem. Roni asked if I knew what tripsim were and I said they were tiny insects. He said they were not insects, but mosquitoes, or lice. I said that lice are insects and they agreed that tripsim (thrips) are also insects. I guess these guys are entomologically challenged, like my son's former ganenet. David diagnosed the problem as high temperature during transport.

I didn't ask how thrips got into bug-free lettuce in the first place (it has nothing to do with spontaneous generation). The kashrut supervisor takes a number of lettuce samples and if they are clean, the lettuce gets an okay. Lettuce doesn't have to be 100% bug-free, kind of like my challah. So tripsim, once there, can multiply in the right conditions.

Like Rami, David has artistic inclinations and sings for the Oyf Simches band. I suspect Roni may have been pulling my leg about this and David's agronomic expertise, although I wouldn't have guessed by Roni's demeanour. My husband recognized David as the former owner of the makolet across the street. It's a strange country.

A visit with Abbi, and the bug in the challah dough

What I've been up to this week:

1. Met Commenter Abbi in the park. Her children are so sweet! (Sorry about the photo quality--I can't get through to Canon about repairing the camera.) I was glad for an excuse to get out of the house and socialize. On a related note, I don't understand how Israeli mothers manage to spend every afternoon in the park and still get their kids into bed at a reasonable hour.
2. Got a new closet installed, leading to a major reorganization of stuff. Anybody want lighting equipment the electrician had me buy when we moved in four years ago? The contractor had already bought the identical items. Thinking about that electrician still gives me palpitations. I once heard that Jews should never become politicians or electricians.
3. Baked challah with Mimi--I hope one of us will post more on this. While kneading the dough later in the afternoon my daughter (14) saw a bug jumping in, but we could not locate it. Whole bugs can't be nullified by 60 times the amount of kosher food, but since it's possible that the bug jumped out the rabbi said to go ahead and bake it.  Don't tell my Shabbat guests.
   
4. Held the first meeting of our new writing group, also with Mimi. Prepared the second.
   
5. Went chug-hopping with Y., my 7-year-old. (chugim = afterschool activities.) The pretentious science chug involved too much arts and crafts. I thought ju-jitsu would be the winner because of the climbing, crawling, and somersaulting, but Y pronounced it boring. Y chose basketball, the last chug we tried, and the cheapest. It's run by Elitzur, an organization that promotes sports in the religious community in Israel.
6. Took pictures at the shmitah store for an update. Fortunately, my camera decided to cooperate.I spoke to two farmers who happened to be visiting. Look for those post(s) next week.
7. Prepared a shiur on Ki Tavo, this week's Torah portion. I decided to examine previous mentions of maaser, tithing, in the Torah. There are three types of tithes: one for the Levites who guard the Temple, even though they are more famous for singing; one that the owners may consume but only in Jerusalem (they can also redeem it for cash to be spent on food in Jerusalem), and one for the poor including the stranger, widow and orphan.
8. Thought a lot about Rosh Hashana preparations. We don't go for pineapple kugel and honey chicken; spicy chicken and potatoes make my family happiest. We will also have sweet challah, honeycake, fish and matzah balls (because they are round).

Shabbat shalom.

Modiin mom told to nurse in the changing room

Yiska visited a mall in Modiin with her young baby. Here is her story:

I was at the mall this morning with my 3-week-old daughter. While modestly nursing her, a security guard approached me and told me I shouldn't nurse in public, and that there is a changing room which I should use, "so everyone will feel more comfortable." I nodded and said OK, and just left it at that.

An hour later, in a different spot, the same thing happened. This time it was one of the cleaning men. I told him I was perfectly comfortable where I was.
It seems to me they were told by the management to ask women not to nurse in public.

It's pretty ridiculous. It's fine for women to walk around half naked, but feeding your child modestly is unacceptable.

---------

I haven't heard from the management yet, so I'm not sure that this is the mall's policy, it just sounded like it.

In January I heard a lecture on breastfeeding rights in Israel, by a lawyer who had researched the subject. She said that unlike in most US states, no Israeli law protects breastfeeding mothers. Assuming the mall is privately owned, the management is within its rights to ask a mother to leave the premises.

The lawyer stressed that in order to be effective, laws should not relate to issues of obscenity or sex discrimination. In Ohio, a breastfeeding mother sued Wal-Mart for sex discrimination and lost. The judge ruled that there was no sex discrimination because if a man were breastfeeding, he would also be asked to leave:

Title VII forbids gender discrimination in employment, but gender discrimination by definition consists of favoring men while disadvantaging women or vice versa. The drawing of distinctions among persons of one gender on the basis of criteria that are immaterial to the other, while in given cases perhaps deplorable, is not the sort of behavior covered by Title VII.

As for obscenity, there is no connection between the two. And we don't want the courts deciding how much breast can be visible. When laws on public breastfeeding come up for debate in state legislatures, formula companies have been known to lobby for including a clause about nursing "discreetly" or limiting the age of the nursing baby. This opens up a can of worms and sends a negative message about breastfeeding.

The lawyer explained that supporting nursing in public for health reasons also creates a risk. The medical profession promotes breastfeeding, yet you still find doctors who argue that the differences between breastfeeding and bottle-feeding are insignificant. If the pendulum were to swing back in favor of formula, we would want the rights of breastfeeding mothers and babies to remain protected.

The lawyer insisted that any discussion of public breastfeeding must hinge on the right of the nursing mother to participate fully in society. You can read more of my views on this matter in my post "Nursing in the Ezrat Nashim."

I don't understand why an Israeli mall would harass breastfeeding mothers. Such mothers tend to be more affluent, and have more disposable income from money saved on formula and bottles. They have more time to spend in the mall because they don't have to shlep formula or worry that it will spoil. And Israelis don't bat an eye when they see a nursing mother. In my experience, they're more likely to compliment her.

I think the mall thought that if they had a room for mothers and babies, nursing mothers would naturally want to sit there. This is despite the fact that they call it a changing room and not a nursing room--do you really want to watch everyone changing diapers while your baby is eating? Breastfeeding rooms are great for mothers who want rest or privacy, but they send a subtle message that breastfeeding mothers should stay out of sight. I see women breastfeeding in public every time I visit my local mall, despite the existence of a nursing/changing room.

Notice that Yiska's three-week-old baby needed to nurse twice within an hour. That's a lot of time for someone to spend in the changing room. What if a woman comes with her husband or friend? Are they supposed to wait for her outside? It's time to stop equating nursing with going to the bathroom.

The mall might be concerned about their haredi clientele, which is ironic because haredi women nurse too. And as Yiska implied, the mall doesn't have a dress code, so there are more "offensive" sights than a nursing mother sitting on a bench. If a haredi clientele is the issue, I wonder whether the mall limits provocative advertising.

I hope the management in Modiin will wise up and allow Israeli mothers to shop freely with their nursing babies.

Left foot, left foot, left foot, right

My mother always advised buying identical pairs of socks. That way you still have matching pairs even after you lose a few. Sock manufacturers have figured this out, obviously, because they sell socks in packages containing different colors and designs.

My husband says I need to spell out the meaning of the above sentence. I mean that the manufacturers want you to throw away the second half of the pair when one sock is lost.

I bought a pack of three pairs this week. But as you can see from the picture, the socks were not as identical as I had thought. I haven't seen left and right socks since toe socks.

When I took out the last pair of socks to photograph, I realized that the package actually contained 4 L socks and 2 R socks. So should I try to return them? I can't imagine how I would explain this problem to the store. In a country where large numbers of plumbers don't seem to know what H and C stand for, what would an underwear store worker have to say about the difference between L and R?

A clean city with lots of shoe stores

I remember my mother taking me from store to store trying to find a pair of shoes that fit. My own daughter is fairly easy to shop for, but we must have gone into fifteen stores over two days to find sandals for her rapidly enlarging feet. In most of the stores, she wouldn't consider even a single pair. And of the ones she tried, none were comfortable.

I had asked her several times to look for girls in school with shoes that she liked, and find out where they got them. But she did not respond to this reasonable suggestion(!). In the second-to-last store the salesperson convinced her to try on half a dozen pairs. He offered one of the pairs, which she hated, about ten times. And we left empty-footed (figuratively speaking). I was about to give up when she mumbled something about Teva Naot. Lo and behold, a store selling that brand miraculously appeared, and we thankfully purchased the pair pictured above. Of all of the shoes she considered, this was the only pair I liked. We won't say anything about the cost. Sephardi Lady, life is not simple with teenagers.

On the way home, we passed a line of cars waiting at a traffic light. We saw a passenger open the door of one of the cars and gently lay an empty soft drink can, upright, on the street. I stepped into the road and told him, with a smile, that the can belonged to him. He shrugged his shoulders. I picked it up, handed it to him, and told him to throw it away. He took it. (I considered shouting my town's slogan, X is a clean city, as I walked away, but I restrained myself.) My son later said that I'm lucky the man didn't stab me, and that he probably deposited his can at the next intersection. Maybe my son is wrong, and the man was worried about what I would do to him . . .

Navigating an Israeli Supermarket

I once read a blog post by an American on an extended visit to Israel, raving about how much easier it is to keep kosher in Israel than in the US. True, a variety of kosher food is available just about everywhere in Israel. But keeping kosher in Israel is far from simple.

Lately we have been shopping at Aleph, one of the haredi chains. They tend to focus more on basic items and family-sized packages. The disadvantage is that meat and dairy products with a mehadrin/haredi supervision are much more expensive. But a few years ago Aleph added a selection of meat and dairy products under the supervision of the Israeli rabbinate.

Another issue with products under haredi supervision is that they often contain more fillers and sugars than those with the standard supervision, in order to make the price attractive to haredi families with less disposable income. Examples include "Danuba" mehadrin yogurt, which contains added starch, and Telma Shefa Cornflakes, which contain more sugar than Telma Cornflakes. It pays to read labels.

The brakes on our car began acting up during Pesach, and we are awaiting a replacement part by airmail. My husband takes the bus to work and I avoid carpool arrangements on principle, but shopping is a hassle. Last week I took the bus to one store only to discover, at the checkout, that they don't deliver. Fortunately I ran into a neighbor who gave me a ride home. The other day I put out an SOS to some friends and E. replied that she was planning to go shopping and would be happy to take me along.

Since E. once referred to me as someone who "writes a blog for new olim (immigrants)," I guess it's appropriate to use our trip to share some examples of unusual things a kosher consumer might find in an Israeli supermarket.

E. took me to a large chain store that I used to visit regularly. Because some items were much cheaper than at Aleph, I used to alternate between the stores every few weeks to stock up on cheaper items. But at one point I stopped because the price on those items came down in Aleph. I see now that that was a mistake; canned goods, for example, are significantly cheaper at the store we visited this week.

Since I was last there, the store, along with most of the city's supermarkets, lost its rabbinic supervision. The local rabbinate, known for its zealousness (it refuses to certify restaurants for Passover if they serve legumes), withdrew supervision for any store selling a popular brand of meat. The rabbinate claimed to have found serious irregularities in the factory. This has since been resolved, but the rabbinate also refuses to certify stores that rely on the heter mechirah during this sabbatical year. Some of the fresh food counters did have a kashrut certificate, and most products come in packages sealed by the manufacturer. But there are still issues.

Take this package of chicken wings. It looks like the frozen pieces were taken out of a box, placed on a tray, and wrapped in plastic. The Tnuva sticker was almost certainly slapped on by a store worker. And without supervision on the store itself, I have no assurance that the chicken came from where the label says it does.
Here's another concern for the kosher shopper. Note this sign on the freezer display:

The animal from which this cut of meat was taken has been slaughtered properly according to Jewish law, but not "kashered." Kashering meat involves soaking, salting and rinsing the meat in order to remove the blood. Hardly anyone soaks and salts meat at home; I've never done it, because the kosher butchers and meat-packers take care of it. Presumably the people buying it here prefer it because it's cheaper than kashered meat, and they don't keep kosher anyway.

This pitfall has nothing to do with kashrut:

The label reads "GROUND CHICKEN: From superior ground chicken meat." The smaller letters read, "With the addition of vegetable protein." If you want to know what percentage is meat, forget it. The label won't help you here. Instead, a notice warns consumers to eat the product only when fully cooked; I saw this on other products as well. I'm guessing this is a new well-meaning law on the books, like the one requiring every product containing gluten to be labelled as such. That law backfired, because companies afraid of lawsuits by the gluten-sensitive public began putting the labels on everything.

Then I went to look at the frozen vegetables. My husband still doesn't like me to buy "heter mechirah" produce (sigh) so I had to read the fine print here too:


The one on the left says it is kosher "according to heter mechirah" and the one on the left says that it's "yevul shishit," meaning that it comes from the produce of the sixth year. (It also has an extra "Badatz" kashrut symbol.) I once noticed a similar sign on a can of tomato paste several years after shmittah. it must have been the second or third year of the sabbatical cyle, so I thought the product was a few years old. Later realized that I wasn't meant to take the mention of the sixth year literally; it simply indicated that the produce was not from the problematical seventh year of the sabbatical cycle.

At that point E. reminded me that we needed to check that the store had sold its chametz. One may not eat leavened foods that were in the possession of a Jew over the Passover holiday. There are some products I generally buy in the shuk (open-air market), such as burgul (bulgur) wheat, but not immediately after Pesach; I only buy burgul, flour, pasta, and oats in a store that has sold its chametz. So while E. finished up her shopping I located the following sign:

This assures the customers that the chametz was properly sold. However, the mashgiach (kashrut supervisor) emphasizes that he cannot vouch for the kashrut of the store or any of its products, either on Pesach or year-round.

I half-expected a store worker to ask me why I was taking pictures. After all, this store used to have a sign at the entrance warning customers against writing down prices. But no one seemed to care.

I've only touched superficially on some of the kashrut issues and I hope that my less knowledgeable readers were able to follow.

Many thanks to E. for shlepping me and my groceries, and for vicariously contributing to this post. And join me in wishing her mazal tov on marrying off her oldest son.

Between Two and Four

What is the number one obstacle to remaining sane while raising small children in Israel? No, it’s not the cost of your child’s birthday party in gan.

Shhh--I'm talking about the afternoon quiet hours.

Ask any immigrant mother how she first learned about the rule requiring quiet between two and four PM. Chances are she was chastised by an irate neighbor. You can see signs in public parks, and occasionally in apartment buildings. Many offices and stores are also closed between one and four. (This is changing.) Of course well-behaved children nap at that time. But if yours are abnormal on a different schedule, it’s your job to keep them quiet.

I gradually adjusted. I learned never to have the kids' friends over before four; the parents wouldn't send them anyway but it took me a while to realize this. I made sure my toddler stayed away from the pots, except one Friday when the neighbor called to remind me. We tried to have quiet games and activities and with any luck I would stay awake. But this is what you might hear coming from my house between 2 and 4: “STOP SHOUTING OUT THE WINDOW! IT’S BETWEEN 2 AND 4!” or “DON’T CALL ME FROM THE SIDEWALK! USE THE BUZZER! YOU’LL WAKE THE NEIGHBORS!”

Fortunately our former downstairs neighbors were so noisy that I never had to worry about disturbing them. The entire neighborhood knew and despised their teenage son for blasting his stereo, and nothing seemed to help. Once, however, when I went to complain, he apologized. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was between two and four.” Any level of noise is acceptable in the morning, late afternoon, and evening. But between 2 and 4, he turns off the music. He shows respect for his neighbors. (When my son, then 6, asked me why the neighbor played his music so loud I told him it was because he was angry at his parents. That gave him something to think about. “But why, Ima, why?”)

After nearly eighteen years of urban living in Israel, I have learned to appreciate quiet hours. Sometimes I shop, taking advantage of empty streets and stores. I may sit with my children in the park, and hope they don't shout too much. But with any luck, I'll be taking a nap. So try not to call between 2 and 4.

Israeli fashions for religious women

My town has seen a proliferation of stores catering to religious women; I am sharing some highlights with my loyal readers.





For the first few years after I made aliyah, the only colors in women's clothes were beige, brown, and gray. Then things improved, and for a season or two you could find kelly green and hot pink. What hasn't changed is the way Israeli designers, especially those targeting the religious community, manage to combine such a bizarre assortment of colors, shapes and fabrics into one outfit.





Note: I am not making any statement about the "tzniut" standards of these items.



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In which I share embarrassing moments with my blog audience

I tend to be secretive, but since I started blogging I find myself sharing all kinds of embarrassing things to produce amusing posts. Bear with me while I meander a bit--there is a punch line to the following story.

It started several months ago when I tore a leg muscle. Around that time I couldn’t figure out why my legs were tired all the time, even after a short walk. I was convinced that I had some horrible degenerative disease. Then, while carrying a cranky four-year-old, I tripped over a mound meant to prevent cars from entering a park. She got a bump on the head; I got a bruised knee and sore muscles. A few days later I tripped again, this time on nothing. Result: Two bruised knees and noticeable bruises on my face. Two weeks later the marks have just about disappeared.

After the second fall I realized that my shoes were causing the problem. I wear orthotics and orthopedic running shoes, and as everyone knows, running shoes wear out. (My metal orthotics never need replacing except for the leather lining.) Usually I am careful to replace worn-out shoes immediately; these were already eight months old so I should have thought of it. Instead I suffered extreme pain for two months while functioning on a suboptimal level, lacking stamina for walking or standing.

I hate running errands even when my feet don’t hurt, but I forced myself. In my town we have several orthopedic stores serving the large elderly population so I easily found a new, comfortable pair of shoes --white New Balance 627 for those who are interested.

Now that morning I had more cash on hand than usual. Even though conventional wisdom says that credit cards lead to excess spending, excess cash is the problem for me. In this case it was a reimbursement for a credit card purchase so technically I had already spent the money.

With feet uncurled from the joy of not having to hang onto flimsy shoes for dear life, I went to buy some new lipstick. My little girl had totally destroyed my last tube (or whatever you call a container of lipstick) months ago, forcing me to attend at least one wedding with bare lips. That is extreme even for me. After some debate I chose a shade. The saleslady generously applied blusher and convinced me to buy that too. (If not for the cash I believe I would have resisted.)

When my friend dropped off my daughter after playgroup she made a comment about my new makeup. I didn't think much of it, but my older daughter was quite concerned. She took one look at my face and said, “Did you fall again?”

I still haven't opened the blusher -- I'm planning to exchange it for something useful.

Is homemade food worth the effort?

Reading the ingredients on purchased food spoils my appetite. Even canned tomato paste now contains fructose, making it taste like catsup. (Luckily I can still find the "pure" variety.) And I don't like to think about what's in food from restaurants, bakeries, and caterers. When I see borekas I just think "transfat."

I also don't enjoy paying for extras like starches, sugars, artificial colors, preservatives, and more.

That's why I avoid a slew of Israeli staples, including soup mixes, catsup, breakfast cereals, soy shnitzel, soup nuts, soft drinks, flavored yogurts, puddings, and snack foods (yes, you can entertain without serving Bisli). Mayonnaise used to be on the list, until I gave in to one of my children who prefers the jarred stuff. I won't share the ingredients of this item, which does have that stand-up-by-itself texture mine lacks.

Some commenters mentioned that they find it cheaper to buy applesauce than to make it. I haven't priced store-bought applesauce in a while, since we don't eat it regularly. But five or ten extra shekel for a homemade Chanukah treat is worth it for me.

A lot of things I make from scratch may not be more economical, gram per gram. I use canola instead of cheaper soy or corn oil. Whole-grain flour is a lot more expensive than the subsidized pasty white stuff. But savings on whole grains, fruits and vegetables, all very cheap in Israel (when it's not shmitta), make up for those costs. Also, what's not "worth it" for a small family can make a significant difference for a large one.

What about the cost of my time? Well, I consider money saved by cooking from scratch as part of my income, tax- and childcare-free. And cooking healthy food doesn't have to mean hours and hours in the kitchen, as I mentioned in an earlier post. In fact, a recent study compared meal-prep times between two groups of two-career couples: those cooking from scratch and those relying on convenience foods.The ones who bought prepared foods didn't save time because they tended to make more elaborate meals.

One family made a simple meal of sandwiches and edamame, using bread, cheese, greens and salmon and tomatoes. That meal took about a half-hour to prepare. Another family had a six-dish convenience-food meal of microwave barbecued ribs, macaroni and cheese, prebagged salad, bagged dinner rolls and a cookies and ice cream dessert. That meal also took a half-hour.

I had to look up edemame, but not in my Webster's. (It's amazing how many ethnic food items, like quesadillas, have become mainstream in the seventeen years since I left the US.) It won't be on my table anytime soon. Then I read this bizarre statement:

The study authors noted that the biggest time savings of convenience foods may be at the grocery store, where it's faster to grab a frozen entree than to collect six separate ingredients to make the same dish from scratch.

Well, that might be true if you're shopping for only one meal at a time. It didn't occur to the clueless study authors that four or five of the six ingredients would be used for several meals. I imagine that those who rely on convenience foods make more trips to the store because (a) they don't have room to store all those bulky packages for more than a few days and (b) they are unable to improvise when they run out of a particular item.

I have another question about this study, which says that Americans spend 22 minutes on a grocery-shopping trip. Are American stores really so efficient? Twenty-two minutes doesn't leave much time for reading ingredients and comparing prices, either.

Some convenience foods don't save any time, like matza balls from a mix. I tease one of my friends about using it because matzah balls only contain eggs, matzah meal, salt and maybe a little oil--once you are getting the bowl dirty there's no advantage to the mix. Of course the mix contains all kinds of things that make the matzah balls fluffy.

Even so the mix is probably healthier than Robin's recipe containing six tablespoons of margarine. Try her recipe for ribollita, the ultimate winter stew, instead.

I can relax a bit now that our annual family Chanukah party is over. We used Carolyn's idea for Chanukah magnets, impressing my guests.

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A Trip to the Shmitta Store

Mo'ah kemo Efro'ah has been nudging me to do a post on shopping during shmitta. So on my last trip to the "shmitta store" catering to the religious public, I brought my camera. I can't possibly explain all of the political, religious, economic, and practical implications of this mitzvah; check out ADDerabbi or Rafi for more posts on the subject. Oh, and say Mazal tov to Rafi and his wife on the birth of baby #7.

Don't feel bad if you don't understand. You are not alone.

I'll take a stab at it anyway.

During the seventh year, the Torah requires the land and people of Israel to rest. Any produce that grows without cultivation (most fruit, or vegetables planted during the sixth year and harvested during the seventh) is (theoretically) shared among everyone and has a special status (kedushat sheviit, literally sabbatical holiness). This produce can be collected and distributed through a mechanism known as otzar bet din. The product of cultivation during the seventh year may not be eaten.

The rabbis have devised several ways to prevent hardship during shmitta. The only solution sanctioned by the haredi rabbinic leadership is to import produce from outside the country or from non-Jewish farms within Israel. Religious Zionist rabbis allow a fictional sale of the land, (similar to the selling of chametz, leavened bread, before Passover). But if the Israeli rabbinate were to prohibit farming altogether, not only would farms lose income for the current year, but those dependent on overseas markets would risk losing their customer base permanently. Also, buying vegetables from Gaza, for example, might end up funding terror activities.

Many religious Zionists do not want to rely on this sale, known as heter mechirah (HM), for philosophical reasons, because it involves "selling" holy land. Our rabbi emphasized that the sale is valid in any case; if heter mechirah is indeed prohibited, the farmer, not the customer, is in violation.

Last shmitta, the government gave a kashrut certificate to any store or hall that relied on the HM. If a business wished, it could get more stringent supervison. This year, the rabbinate in some cities, with the support of the Israeli rabbinate, decided they wouldn't give supervision to any business relying on HM. The result is that many stores won't bother to get kashruth supervision at all and the general public won't observe this important mitzvah.

This year the religious Zionists banded together and promoted an organization called Otzar Haaretz. Otzar Haaretz supervises and distributes HM and other permissible seventh year produce. If you join, you contribute NIS 50 per month, entitling you to a voucher for that amount to redeem at a store selling Otzar Haaretz produce. We also get a voucher for an extra "benefit." This month it was one and a half kilograms of eggplant. I hope to have a monthly cooking feature on the topic, but I am already a month behind! I wonder what we will get this month. . . In our town the rabbinate worked out some kind of bizarre compromise to allow sales of heter mechirah produce. The kashruth certificate above is from the organization that supervises HM produce and "otzar beth din" (see above). The certificate reads:

PERMIT The fruits and vegetables in this store are under the supervision of Rabbi Yaakov Ariel and Rabbi Dov Lior [from the religious Zionist community: MiI], the instruction and supervision are through the rabbis of "Machon Torah Vehaaretz." The fruits and vegetables with "kedushat sheviit" must be treated according to instructions available at the store. This permit is in effect from Tishrei 5768 until Tevet 5768. The permit may not be copied and is the property of Machon Hatorah Vehaaretz.

Under pressure, the local chief rabbi authorized another local rabbi to supervise HM produce. The letter, on plain paper, reads:

I hereby inform you that even though you (the store owners) purchase fruits and vegetables in the town's wholesale market where all the vegetables are HM and tithed according to strict Jewish law, and with no question of "Orla" (prohibited fruit from a tree less than four years old), [this is in addition to the vegetables of "Otzar Haaretz" (see certificate above) that are from the Otzar Beit Din, and as such must be treated with kedushat shviit (see above)] I am sorry that because of the local rabbinate's policy not to give a certificate to businesses which sell HM vegetables, the management [lit. anshei haminhalah] may not issue a kashrut certificate for 5768, the sabbatical year. Signed, Rabbi of the western part of the city. CC: The local chief rabbi

In other words: It's kosher, but we can't say so officially.

I enjoyed shopping in the large store, where signs marked the status and price of each item. Outside, the produce was reasonably cheap. Monster sweet potatoes cost NIS 2.49/kg. The sign notes "shishit," (sixth) meaning they were harvested before Rosh Hashana, in the sixth year of the sabbatical cycle (5767). Other signs said "sheviit" (seventh) or "heter mechirah."

The HM produce was significantly cheaper than the "otzar bet din/Otzar Haaretz/sheviit" salad vegetables inside the store. Peppers were a whopping NIS 8 per kg., compared to 2.49. Odd because we are not supposed to be paying for the actual produce, only the overhead.

Fruit picked now is sixth-year produce, because what counts is when the trees blossomed. Vegetables gain status according to when they are picked. So far we have been buying fruit and some vegetables such as potatoes, which aren't harvested this time of year anyway, at the shuk (open-air market). I bought some fruit at the shmitta store, because my husband the shuk-shopper was out of the country. I found a bargain table where I picked up some delicious peaches and misshapen cucumbers.

My biggest disappointment was taking home the measly, bug-free celery that cost about a shekel a stalk and discovering a label reading "yevul nochrim" (non-Jewish produce; a code word for imported). I thought the whole point of Otzar Haaretz was to avoid importing. And who needs bug-free celery that is so old that they had to cut off the leaves? Yuck.

The grocer wanted me to show a picture of his delicious melons, which came from Kibbutz Ein Yahav in the Arava. They are grown by Israelis, but because the Arava is not part of biblical Israel, shmitta laws don't apply. If you have been following, you might be asking why melons are a problem since they are fruit. But melons are annuals; according to Jewish law fruits are perennials which grow on trees.

I seem to have gotten to the end of this incredibly long post, appropriate for shmitah because a) this Jewish leap year contains an extra month and b) fruit will be more of an issue in 5759. It will be a long time before we can go back to worrying about simple things like tithes, orlah, bugs, and what to cook for dinner.