-By Danny Mellman

When I envisioned what I might discover in Israel as I prepared for my first journey there this past spring, I visualized a vast sandscape, torrid winds, scorpions, a place that makes outsiders wonder why anyone would fight over this barren piece of earth. I had no idea of the geographical, historical and culinary education I was about to embark on. In fact, I would have to say this tiny country taught me more lessons on food and history than I ever thought possible.

When we arrived in Tel Aviv, my impression of barren was immediately wiped away. Despite the turmoil around it, Tel Aviv has enjoyed a boost in quality of life over the past decade. Jerusalem is Israel’s political and religious capital, but this, the nation’s largest city, is its hub of culture, finance and media. While the city’s general architecture does not add much to its modern cityscape -- crumbling, not-so-old buildings, nondescript high-rises and beachside hotels, looking like so many concrete boxes -- the congruence of the 773,000 people who live here and the story behind how each of them arrived in this seaside city electrifies the air. This is a city in motion, a metropolis that is hungry for success. There is a strange fragrance in the air -- the sea, roasting vegetables and the tinge of fresh tar; it seems this land is constantly under construction.

Recognizing Tel Aviv’s appetite and appreciation for superior cuisine, star Parisian chef Joël Robuchon plans to open an outpost here. Towers designed by Philippe Starck, I. M. Pei, Richard Meier and Ron Arad are on the rise; and Donald Trump is said to be building a 70-story luxury apartment complex in the suburb of Ramat Gan, home to 133,000 people.

But, for a land so new, it is very old. Every step you take, fresh laundry blowing in the wind, cobbled streets and market stalls, street vendors and the Muslim siren-call for prayer remind you of your location. Everything here is a mix, a Mediterranean melting pot of foods, dress, cultures, colors of skin. To my surprise, Tel Aviv is a very homogenous society. A quick jaunt around town, stroll on the beachside promenade, taxi ride or amble through the numerous day markets -- selling and trading everything from new “LV” handbags to preserved lemon and fresh couscous -- brings home that realization.

My misconception was that I would discover a city palpitating with stress, on edge with constant conversations about the political situations that literally surround it. But it’s simply not the case. I thought I would find a sea of yarmulkes and rabbis, sherpas and veiled eyes, soldiers and machine guns; what I found was shawarma and borscht, kibbeh and falafel. Speckled, sparkling arrays of color seemed to paint the markets filled with fruits and vegetables of every shape and size -- overflowing stalls of drab green and purple artichoke; emerald green, lithe pea tendrils; citrus glows of every hue from brilliant yellow to ruby orange; dried beans, spices, herbs and rice from around the world filled hand-woven cane baskets.


Heading Home
My first trip to Israel was a long time coming. I am the youngest child in a vibrant Jewish family -- son of a hippy/show artist mom and veterinarian dad, sibling of a fashion designer sister and musician-producer brother -- and so through my family’s influence, I know something about art and design. My own foray into the artistic world wound up making me a classically trained chef working my way through England, Italy and France, in kitchens the likes of La Coupole in Paris and Moulin de Mougins in Cannes. And as the chef of my own restaurants for the past 29 years -- from New Hope, Pennsylvania to Captiva Island, Florida -- I also know about flavors. But when I began to eat my way through the culinary dialects of this unique Mediterranean country, I was amazed to discover new flavors and combinations with ingredients so familiar and yet translated in an unfamiliar way that my palate began to dance.

I did not notice a strong sense of trends here -- novella, gastro-pub, pan-Asian, organic, “deconstructionist;” instead, what I discovered was a strong sense of flavor and multitude of available product. I believe that is due to the strong sense of place the citizens of Israel hold. People from every walk of life, mostly Israeli (Jews and Arabs), fill the streets, homes and restaurants of Israel. But these Israeli citizens are comprised of cultures from around the world -- Jewish immigrants from France, Spain, Africa and Russia. And these immigrants have created a diverse and ethnically inspired Israeli cuisine in the short 60 years they have come to call this land home. Those coming and those already here do not relinquish any of their heritage, which continues to bolster the ever-growing sense of cuisine.


Garden of Eden
This tiny piece of sand, rock grass and sun is landlocked by Lebanon, Jordan, Syria and Egypt. Their borders are not friendly. The sweetest neighbor is the Mediterranean Sea. Israel encompasses 8,100 square miles and is roughly the size of Massachusetts. And yet this small country is a relatively undiscovered culinary wonderland. It is true that everything had to be planted, it is not an ancient Garden of Eden, to be sure, not a lot of wild fruits growing on the roadside or the wonderful pearl-size wild strawberries you may find in Provence or Sicily, but what an agricultural monument this state is. Everything you eat comes from here: oranges, figs, pineapples mangoes, loquats, coconuts, every nut, herb, seed, pepper; if you know it, you can find it here.

The Mediterranean is obviously plentiful with tasty crustaceans, a multitude of bivalves and a myriad of fish, such as John Dory, dorade, seabass and sardines. The clear, clean waters of the Sea of Galilee -- actually a giant freshwater lake -- are as abundant with non-salt-loving species. The Galilee is also home to some of the first and most successful instances of commercial aquaculture, started in the '40s, producing trout, salmon, tilapia, herring and others.


Planting A Future
Driven by the visions of Prime Minister Ben-Gurion who wanted to see the desert bloom, the self-sustaining Israeli agricultural scene is basically organic or “biologic.” The fruit and fields are constantly rotated to help with lack of water; the chicken produce the most delicious, almost golden-umber egg yolks; the cows, goats and sheep produce incredibly rich milk from pastured, naturally ranging, feeding animals that certainly rival that of its neighbors and even European markets.

I won’t dispute the fact that product eaten at or near its place of origin somehow tastes better … it does! Fresh olives, an assortment of goat cheese ranging in age from three days to eight months, rolled in ash, almost liquid insides, and fresh-baked bread, eaten in the same pasture as the goats that provide the milk and amusement while we partake of the snack is incredible. But what I have come to know in America of pita, halva, couscous, shawarma (gyro) and any other “Israeli” food or product have been poor imposters to say the least.

Americans, perhaps Jewish Americans, may expect matzo balls and chopped liver when planning a journey to Israel. Neither of which did I see or eat in our 10 days of traveling the country. You see Lahukh -- a large, fluffy Yemenite grilled bread -- or Laffa, a large, soft flat bread, like a giant tortilla, lightly browned pita, very soft, filled with anything from chocolate or ice cream for kids, to lobster falafel in “hi heeled" restaurants. Shawarma -- sliced, marinated leg of lamb, chicken thighs or turkey legs, heavily seasoned, skewered and slowly vertically grilled on a gas flame, then shaved on fresh pita with an array of fresh condiments that may include french fries, cucumbers, red cabbage, hummus, various pickles, zhug (like harissa, a hot pepper sauce), preserved mango puree (an Assyrian favorite), and the list goes on. Can you really compare that to the gray, scrapple-like mass we see in the States passing for shawarma or “gyro?” Don’t get me wrong; growing up in Philly, scrapple is a personal favorite and one of the four food groups, along with cheese steaks, Tastee Cakes and Wise potato chips.

In the most casual of restaurants, a diner is inundated with a display of “salads” ranging from pickled beets, chickpeas salad, hummus, grated radish with lemon, tabbouleh, olives … like the side bar for shawarma or falafel, the salads, which are generally gratis with a meal, run the gamut. I think if you ate at markets, stalls, casual family restaurant to the nicest hotel establishments, you’d find everything in these mezzas including langoustine ceviches, fresh grape leaf rolled truffles, seared foie gras, brandied currants and silan (date honey).

The clean flavors and tastes of the dishes of the “everyday" make a smooth transition to restaurant fare; figs and dates are stuffed with goat cheese and sprinkled with silan and fresh toasted cinnamon bark, a slaw of shaved fennel, lime-green pistachios and extra virgin olive oil, tabbouleh with its green parsley contrasted against the translucent rubies of fresh pomegranate seeds, or fresh Bourikas (a favorite local pastry made of fresh phyllo sheets or multilayered, 98 percent butter puff pastry) filled with everything from golden thistle honey-soaked poppy seeds to fresh goat cheese, lamb and hyssop, fill the air and eyes with visions of Paris or the Riviera, and you haven’t even left Tel Aviv’s Carmel Street Market.





Eating the Culture
We headed for the Golan on Tuesday; yes, all of this has only been two days, and my senses are already overloaded. As we drive away from the sea, out of the L.A.-like traffic and cement surroundings, the sidewalks become fields, orchards, groves. Giant date and coconut trees line the roads; as we pass olive trees, donkeys and more block box houses, we see the mountains ahead. We pass hillside towns, sparsely populated, with many homes in disrepair or semi-built; it becomes hard to tell, though you see the city center, a mosque, you know it is an Arab village. There are all religions here, but the major break is Jews and Muslims, not Arab and Israeli. We visited many kefars (villages) and towns where people seem to coexist easily; I tried not to read anything into my trip that wasn’t clearly evident.

One place, Nazareth, we all remember Mary and Joseph. Here, we made our way through narrow streets, constant honking of horns, to a little open storefront: the home of Machrum Sweets -- the phyllo, halva, candy king, a family business, kosher -- well-known across the Middle East and shipped around the world as private-label “Religious Sweets." Aside from being offered the sweetest of sweet baklava and the blackest of night, “strong like Ox” coffee, we witness the making of fresh phyllo -- you know that multilayered paper stuff we buy in the freezer section next to “Hungry Man” dinners. This seemingly impossible production is done by hand in a matter of minutes, with a flour-water mixture. In a land where they honk before the light turns green, the food process is never rushed.

Rolled by hand on a three-foot-by-eight-foot stainless steel table, with excessive cornstarch, my guess was a 10-pound ball of fresh snow-white dough is rolled out, then folded, then rolled again, then folded, repeating the process until the dough is 16 see-through layers covering the table. Simply amazing. Add to that the creation of that gorgeously crazy, angel-hair mass known as katafi (kadaif), shredded phyllo being created on a one-of-a-kind rotating griddle which dispenses multiple rows of pancake-like batter and scrapes it off the same hot surface at the end of its round. A short, dark man collects the fine bunches of cooked pastry like so many strands of a horse's mane in a bareback rider's grasp. All operations seemed to be carried out with ease. The operations were open to the air, but clean, and the ever-vigilant eye of the mashgiach ensures quality and adherence to Kashrut law.

After our sweet stop, we continued out travels to the Golan, a central area for agriculture, dairy production, honey and wine. This area and surrounding industry was carried out by the kibbutzim, communities living truly communally -- shared living, dining, work, child-rearing. Many kibbutzim have gone the way of the dollar. Manufacturing and the tech world have drawn the young to the cities, and the original inhabitants are now elderly So much of the life of these “farmers” has been taken over by large corporations, like the dairies of Tenuva, which produce yogurt, goat cheese, even great heavy cream. The flavor requirements and general attitudes of production have not changed, though; the products of these megaplex producers still rely on the top-quality resources of the region, and the front office, “Big Boys upstairs” seem to keep their environment and customer health in focus. Maybe we could take some lessons back to the States. Somehow, they have managed to make products healthy and profitable on a grand scale.




Land of Wine & Cheese
On a second trip to the Golan, we drove along the Sea of Galilee, an opulent, glistening expanse in the morning sun. Sea gulls and a variety of sea eagles, herons and shore birds call this area home, for its endless supply of easy-to-trap, pierce and catch fish. Making our way between and up mountains, we visited Galil Mountain and Golan Heights wineries. As with the cuisine, the wines produced here are world-class, all in their respective classes. Creative winemaker flavors and time-tested world varietals that are purely grape-driven. Most of the winemakers and oenologists are either Europe-trained, UC Davis graduates, or both. From citrusy whites to chewy, rich California-style reds and everything in between. Late harvests, field straw hued, prism shades of gold and bronze, intensely rich, cloying sweetness with the slightest crack of a bubble to clear the palate, cryogenic ice wines -- something for everyone and every food.

At Galil Mountain Winery -- younger, less extravagant sibling of well-known Golan Heights (Yarden Inc.) Vineyards -- as we look east from the reception balcony, we ask about the big hole and broken trellis in the vineyard below. Micha Veadia, the winemaker with a big smile and chuckle, quips, “Hezbollah, not great shots.” In some bewilderment, we continue our tour of the winery, taste a very clean fruity pinot noir, a merlot, a syrah, a blockbuster, fruit, fat round cherry (the kind us fruit-forward types like, no Bordeaux finesse for me!), a Golan Late Harvest Gewurztraminer successfully masquerading as a Sauterne. As we left the tasting to walk the vineyards northwest, I saw two flags on a hill about 500 yards from us among the vines. I could make out the blue and white of what I figured was the Israeli flag and the other, not 75 yards away, amongst the birds, bees and wild flowers of this gorgeous hillside, the flag of Lebanon.

At this point, I realized my location and its proximity to everything bad, as viewed and marketed by the TV and news. I came here as a cook, not a diplomat. All the seeming turmoil gave way to beauty and incredible foods and divergent styles, which somehow in cuisine come together. On our return to Tel Aviv, around 10 p.m., we stopped in a semi-upscale, yuppie neighborhood in the city of Givatiam. Getting out of the car, we were blinded by neon, reminiscent of the Wildwood Boardwalk; in fact, the bustling line of kids, businessmen, yuppies and cabbies we stepped into were all clamoring in the typical Israeli banter, friendly screaming and gesturing style, for one local favorite -- Sabiche -- at the world-renowned stand called "The Sabiche of Oved."

This is typical Israeli fusion street food: paper-thin fried eggplant, hummus, tahini, zhug (ground hot peppers), hard eggs, cabbage, preserved mango and the full complement of salads and sauces, all wrapped in a giant soft bread, probably weighing in at 2 lb. The craziest thing is the Oved makes every single sandwich that goes through the window; his helpers refill, take money and bag up call-in orders. This little stand epitomizes the energy, independence, boldness of Israelis and the melting-pot-style of their cuisine; this two-handed, paper-wrapped Middle Eastern burrito is said to be based on an Iraqi dish that was "Israelized."

Surprisingly, this is a growing cuisine. And like the Israeli’s constant rush, hyperbolic ego and initiative (according to some of the producers we met, large and small, they invented everything, including pita, couscous, katafi and even ice cream), though I may not believe all these claims, it is this “stick-to-itiveness” that gets them through and will forever set their culinary mark, with me anyway.

As with all things Jewish, Kosher, Middle Eastern and Israeli, these terms are sometimes interchangeable, incorrectly used or thrown into a statement as a show of liberality, but they are all very different as the peoples and cultures that bring together and also divide them. It is an incredible land and this dichotomy has developed this little-touted yet infinite cuisine.

Here are some companies we toured while in Israel this year:

Abu Diab Almahroum Sweets Ltd.
Diab Mahroum, General Manager
Nazareth-Paulos 6 Street
Israel
+972- 50-7528550
manager@mahroum-baklawa.com
Masada (Importer)

Aunt Berta’s/BE Food Ltd
Tova Keys, Export Manager
1 Avshalom Road
30951 Zikhron Yaaqov, Israel
t.keys@be-food.com
Atatlanta (Importer)

Barkanit
Michal Brakin
+972-50-4492799
brakinm@zahav.net.il
Kfar-Yechezkel
+972-4-6531431
Atatlanta (Importer)

Gad Dairy
Ms. Zohar Lahad, Export Manager
Hasolelim St. 7
Bat Yam, Israel
+972-50-6433960
zohar@gad-dairy.co.il
Atatlanta (Importer)

Olio & Spices
Erez Weinstein, CEO
Sandy Springs PL NE 227
Suite D-307
Atlanta, GA 30328
678-763-4034
erezw@olioandspices.com

Wissotzky Tea
Bella Alon, International Marketing & Sales Manager
Rab Food Group (Importer)
103 Hashmonaim Street
POB 147 Tel Aviv 61001
+972-052-3588407
bellaa@wtea.com

Yarden Wines USA (Yarden Inc.)
Anat Levi Rushansky, CEO
516 Fifth Ave., Suite 203
New York, NY 10036
646-491-1104
Anat_r@golanwines.co.il

Talil
Naama Salomon
972-52-2840919
naamasa@gmail.com

Adit Schneider
972-54-3379855
adit.schneider@gmail.com

Ein Harod Apiary
Madleine Shaked
972-52-3967698
michveret@einharodm.co.il

Ornat Food Industry Ltd.
Ron Laor
972-50-3537232
ornat@inter.net.il

Nasri Naama Bakery Ltd.
Piere Naama
972-54-4289153
n_bakery@netvision.net.il

Couscous Maison Ltd.
Avi Shriki
972-50-5206522
couscous@netvision.net.il

Anlit Ltd.
Alycia Dighorka
972-54-2621323
alycia@yomi.co.il

Galil Mountain Winery
Carmit Ehrenreich
972-54-6700890
carmit@galilmountain.co.il

If you would like to comment or send us your feedback, please send e-mail to danmellmancooks@yahoo.com. For more about Israeli products and exports, visit www.export.gov.il.