Notes on Culinary Experiences in Karmiel

Fridays are outing days in Israel, as there is no Sunday to speak of.  It’s not quite the same as you have the added pressure of a short day and all the shabbat prep to get sorted but at the moment there’s enough time for a short kiddy activity and brunch.  We headed off with hig hopes to the Olive Festival, advertised extensively in the local english press as being all over the Galil and Golan, from 25th october until the second week of November.  Only when we arrived in Kfar Hananya there was no sign of a festival, nor any olives.  A quick call to the call centre and I was on the phone to a rather miserable sounding woman who informed me that all the local activities were happening on this shabbat and next.  I was gutted, having visions of cooking demos on middle eastern cuisine, entertainment and Jojo gorging himself on olives.  So much for a “multicultural experience” – from what I can see there is nothing for the religious, although we can probably walk to next shabbats activity which is in Karmiel.

A little disappointed we decided to head out to Amirim, a kooky vegan/vegetarian village not far from Karmiel.  It’s stuffed with cute little guesthouses, restaurants, a spa and some other random things like alternative therapies and sculpture.  Husband was very excited by the Indian restaurant but sadly he was closed when we arrived and could only offer us a very limited menu.  So we decided on Dalias Kitchen, a restaurant that looked, like all the others, as if someone had just added bits on to their house.  It had gorgeous views of the Kinneret, hills and local pomegranate trees, and a good value standard meal featuring salads, home made bread and jams, eggs, cheese and tea & cake.  On entering I felt like I had walked into someones great aunty Rose’s house.  Kitchy colourful tablecloths, random ornaments and classical music.  There was a lady rolling kzzizot (hebrew term for fried patty-type thing) which the waiter informed me was made of almonds, but sadly was for dinner. 

The meal was nice enough although I did suffer a dreadful sugar coma from sampling all the weird jams.  Unfortunately the restaurant also had the hygiene standards of a grandmas house, with slightly sticky chairs and the odd hair in the food.  I also noticed that they don’t wash the cloths after each meal, they just brushed off the crumbs (I actually approve of this environmentally, but it’s unusual to see in this day and age).  I got the impression that the owner hadn’t really planned to be a restauranteur, but perhaps she just always had cakes around and somebody told her to start up a business.

Until we got towards the end of the meal, I would have recommended the place, until Dalia herself (age 75, classic red hair dye, trace of a european accent) came to check all was ok.  Only when she walked away did I realise something was a bit strange.  Then it dawned on me – she hadn’t commented on how cute Jojo was!!!  Nor did she ask for a peek at the baby.  This is almost unheard of wherever we go, but more surprising in a 75-year old woman.  In fact she barely acknowledged us.  I wondered if maybe she wasn’t a kid-person, but it seemed weird to me.  Anyway, I later found out from my cousin that they had been to the same place and not eaten there as Dalia had been so rude about their kids, telling them she didn’t have anything for them to eat.  So not quite the grandma’s house experience I had thought it would be.

Our day was more relaxed than usual as we had been invited out to dinner at a friends house, which saved me the bother of doing any cooking.  Jojo was happily jumping on their trampoline and Yaron was a bit miserable all evening, but luckily in Israel nobody seems to mind a crying baby.  They had 4 noisy kids of their own to manage.  From what I can see, after about 3 kids it’s more about crowd control than parenting.  Everytime the noice reached a crescendo the baby reacted with a typical newborn mexican wave.  I suppose being only a second child, he’s just not used to it….  We had a yummy hors d’oeuvres (people in Israel are hugely inventive with salads, it’s worth living here just for that let me tell you) and I was much amused by one of her main dishes – Israeli shepherds pie!!! (they actually call it “Pie Ha’roeh” here – lit. Pie of the Shepherd.  Hilarious).  Instead of a meat base she had used turkey, and replacing the potato was strips of chatzilim (aubergine).  Anway we had a good laugh and after about 3 hours when Yaron decided he was happy to coo happily on the sofa, I actually got to eat some of it.

No wonder Israel is now rated as one of the culinary capitals of the world, there’s always something new to discover wherever you go….