The Zionist Regime

Yes. Apparently, we the inhabitants of Israel of Jewish origin, claiming our birthright after thousands of years, are a regime. If this isnt an example of dysfunctional psychology, of projectile transference, and blatant childhood shenanigans, then I am a monkeys uncle, and that too, is haram, or Muslim speak for transgressive.
I just finished reading an article about prisoners murdered in the jails of Tehran following the recent protests, a glaring example of the cyclical folly of the Islamic Republic's abuse. Audacity to pen themselves Republic when written in English as the transliteration of جمهورى اسلامى اتران, Jomhurheyeh Islameyeh Iran, is the Muslim Regime of Iran. I would aptly argue that the word jomhur is a predecessor for the word regime, as so many of European languages take root in their Asiatic predecessor. But I so pointedly digress. Three people are said to have died in the jails and detention centers (erected for the abuse of those that defy Islamic morale) and the Iranian Government takes no accountability, once more. Once more, the people are rebelling against this oppressive regime that is not only suppressing their human rights, but has advanced to a near domination of all facets of Iranian life as it also controls the financial futures of its citizenry most unlawfully. These people are fighting to breathe, to eat, to grow, in both simplest and more complex ways. But the monster that is the Islamic regime, a vast socio-military complex which controls at least 20% of the country's wealth, turns a blind eye and a loaded gun. And then, they have the nerve to blame everything on the US and the Zionist Regime.
Yes. Why are people rebelling? The Zionist Regime told them to do it. Why are people generally unhappy? The Zionist Regime. What is the root of all evil? Clearly, it is the Zionist Regime. They need to divert that critical eye back upon themselves, and begin to realize how far their anti-Western government has gone. They have their own Muslim Coca Cola. Monkey's Uncle!
Their rhetoric is repeatedly weak and hollow, and their greed is transparent. If I was back in Iran right now, I would like to believe that I would be a part of that underground, fighting against this theocratic beast of a government, and I would act wisely, and Im sure those Zionists and Americans they so generally, idealogically and idiotically hate, would actually have a chance to play. Perhaps we shall.

I call her Victoria

A memory from the USA I have decided to publish after all:

As I was walking around 14th street, home from working at the spice market at Chelsea Market I worked at briefly, I spotted this beheaded beauty laying at a street florist's feet, and asked him if I could have it. Of course, he said sheepishly, and I walked off with what I consider to be one of the great wonders of the world. I snip whatever is left of the stem, ideally to maximize water flow to the rose head, and position thoughtfully in water to flourish and bloom to what you see below. Not quite as fragrant as its white friend, the red rose's delicate fragrance is mirrored by the velveteen petals that compose its intricate design. Intricate. That is also her fragrance, the red rose, that is her beauty, a dance in the world of fragrance, with whirling notes to delight the palate. That is why I call her Victoria, an exquisite beauty, elegantly and serendipitously breathtaking in her every detail. And as always, I cherished her in my grandmother's Limoges petite vase until she had no more beauty to share with me.





Grandmas vasette did not make it to Israel with me.

A Wink Later

Shabbat in Israel is for meals like this. Lavish little salads, and some not so little ones (Ill let you decide which is which), eaten slowly at my leisure as I watch Gordon Ramsey bring order, symphony and finally beauty to restaurants in my backyard, back home in NJ. From 5 o'clock (which is around the time I ate) upwards we have chive yogurt, soaked almonds, multi-rice (whole red and brown) with Rashad, chives and scallions and avocado on the side, lettuce hearts, heirloom cucumber (its white!), and a slice of my spelt and wheat sourdough, ketchup with schug, fire roasted eggplants with chives from Supersol (its stupendous, just needs a bit more fresh lemon juice), Acram's homemade hummus which was a gift for bringing him the last of the heirloom guavas we had for a short stint at work, a Persian omelet, and some homemade suri olives that my roommate gave me. Such an ornate meal, so tired of eating them alone.

Shabbat Shalom from Israel

This was my Shabbat lunch. Good Shabbos! Cucumbers and mango splashed with fresh passion fruit, a nice little bunch of cilantro, challah, and some of my homemade goat yogurt drink, known properly as doogh (there is no ghayn in English, ask a Persian, and they will pronounce it for you). It was delicious, and so traditionally beautiful, I had to share it with you. Life is good sometimes :)


I could have said Kiddush on this doogh.


It was filled to the top like it is supposed to be to symbolize that our cup in life should always be full. Now that's what I call a blessing! Something to really be grateful for as we sit down to break bread, and partake of rest and relaxation with our loved ones for shabbat. Good karma, positive intention, it all goes forward, and in that spirit, should always be pluralistic. Amen!

Goodbye USA

A pictorial essay, enjoy :)

Oats, organic cacao, hemp and goji berries

Me and my uncle's littlins'

NY, 33rd St at 7th Ave, right outside Penn Station

Japanese goodies, constantly growing to new horizons; I love.

A boutique hotel in Midtown

Mustard Greens I miss

My and my sister. No words.

The artwork of Ron Jones that I added to. I must email him this. Ive been talking about it for years already.

A t-shirt from Madewell. Thank you American business for treating me like a little princess. I hope to perpetually rise to the calling of all that is splendid, beautiful, and worthy of hard earned currency.

Welcome Home

I wonder if this guy is lit up at night.


Can you see him? Silvery white aluminum against the sky blue?

I have arrived. On my second day here in Israel, walking back from the shuk, I saw a Menorah on the road, and it moved me, so I took a picture of it. What is it? What is it doing there? Who knows. Positioned to the passersby between the billboard and the parched palm tree, its starkness is part of its beauty. A desert rose; a diamond in the rough; the heart of the country set against its quotidian landscape. This is the road in Ramla that leads into town where there is a shuk that I bought my produce at yesterday. It was such a pleasant, beautiful, sight. Both inspiring and deeply touching. It reaches out to my weary soul and puts a twinkle in my eye with its awesome gravity lit by the love of my people (or just the people that put it there:). Eretz Yisrael. I am home!

My Big Fat Delicious Breakfast

Yes, it was. And remarkably, by being such a harmonious blend of protein, vegetables, fats, and starches, it left me feeling full, yet, with the clean finish that can only be achieved by such a perfectly harmonious blend. It was delicious, and without further ado, let me show you the why, and the how.

The full spread, minus the faux chopped liver on the side which I wasn't sure if I was going to eat, but I did.

Cabbage smothered in Ras El Hanout (a Moroccan curry with specific North African character), cooked in coconut oil, with sweet peas, topped with chopped red scallions. Majorly delish, and below, you can observe these beautiful scallions that I had to capture before I chopped them up.

Aren't they so pretty?

My garlic bread. It is a pita actually, that I did not use as effectively as I could have with a meal like this. Even with the stuff on top, it is very easy to place some of the various items in this plate, inside the pita, and enjoy the flavor combinations and sensations. I only used the chopped liver. I was lazy.

Mom's chicken. Enough said.

Dipped in high fat, pure cream, sour cream. Once again, there are no words to describe how good this is.

Radishes sliced in quarters. My take on the traditional radish, served whole, alongside Persian food.

Castelverano olives. I like them because they are green, with a lot more original olive flavor, and less salty, briny finish. I am also partial to half-sour pickles for precisely that same reason. I will forego the additional probiotic boon, and yes, the delicious quality zing of a fine ferment, to save myself from all the added salt. Most of the time, I just want to taste the fruit.

Faux chopped liver! This is really good, and apparently made mostly from roasted eggplant. It is amazing how much flavor can be rendered from roasting an eggplant to perfection.

So that was my breakfast, dear reader. I wanted to share my delights with you. I don't usually have meats for breakfast, as they are heavy, but a small amount goes a long way, especially when served with all these wondrous goodies. I was in heaven.