Sushi Sulking

Tonight I find myself at a particularly low point in this barrage of high points that is my time in Israel. I guess I should have known that this thing with this special someone was too good to be true, but I was still caught very off guard by today's intense feelings of sadness regarding my current relationship.

Let me start by describing one lazy Saturday a few weeks back. Daniel (the french guy I've been seeing who quickly turned into the french Love Of My Life) and I were both hungry when we woke up around noon, and we decided to get fancy. We had talked many times about making our own sushi (we have chopsticks and soy sauce--half-way there, right!?) and so Saturday was the day. We went to the store in our pajamas and bought all the necessities--the rice, the proper vinegar for seasoning the rice, fish, vegetables, seaweed, the sushi roller thingy, and tons of ginger.

There we were--the picture of cuteness. I'm cooking the rice, he's making us coffee. We take a break every few seconds to kiss and comment on how cute we're being. It's magical. An hour or so later we're rolling out salmon/avocado rolls, salmon/cucumber/avocado rolls, cucumber/avocado/scallion rolls. We're on fire. Daniel says it's the best sushi he's ever had. Even better than in restaurants (!) He's so impressed with my sushi prowess that we barely finish our rolls before we're rolling around somewhere else...

Scene change, two days ago: Now we're making sushi for a few friends for shabbat dinner. We decide together that it's a lovely idea, and so we go get the things we need. We're wearing our regular clothes, no fun pajamas. We haven't cuddled all morning. We've been walking around in the cold. We dropped off our laundry. On-sale ginger provides a momentary interlude of fun, but then we're back home. Daniel busies himself on his computer, I act controlling with the rice.

Our friends start arriving and I start rolling the sushi, though with half the zest of my previous sushi venture. Daniel is absent for the better part of the sushi rolling, and when he arrives he mentions that he likes the pieces a bit smaller than the ones I make. He takes over the rolling.

I believe that the disparities between sushi date #1 and sushi TERRIBLESHITSTORM #2 are due to the fact that Daniel and I have finally stopped denying our impending doom. It hit today with the weight of ten tons of hummus. We will ultimately have to part ways in one short month. Neither Daniel nor I know how to handle this reality. Tonight, I handled it with some mood stabilizers followed by wine and the season finale of the X-Factor.

Maybe we should stop making sushi. Maybe we should have been born in the same country.

Turkey for my Men (Beer for my Horses)

This is the longest I've gone without writing. It's also the longest I've gone without cooking. After the Israeli Thanksgiving of 2011, I think I'm due for a break.

With tons of help from neighbors and sous chefs, my best friend and I put on the most authentic Thanksgiving this side of the Mediterranean. It wasn't easy, but we pulled it off. Dinner included a 7-kilo turkey (yeah, what? I think that's like 18 pounds), stuffing, scalloped potatoes, sweet potato puree, roasted vegetables, salad, gravy, cranberry sauce, apple crisp, pumpkin "pie" (pudding/cake/cookie-like dessert), and a noodle kugel for good (Jewish) measure. It was a smorgasborg of American treats. And only half of the guests were American! There were at least eight countries represented at our Thanksgiving feast. And at least ten people at the table hooked up by the end of the night. Now that's what I call a harvest-time miracle.

A week later, I'm coming down from the high of Thanksgiving but gearing up for the birthday (week) of fun. Also trying to brace myself for the sad, sad truth that I've begun my second to last month in the holy land. My second to last month of freedom. My second to last month of 17-shekel sabich. My second to last month of GOING OUT EVERY NIGHT AND DRINKING WITH ABANDON. I mean, my second to last month of exploring my Jewish heritage and gaining an international perspective on my career? Yes, those too.

At least I'm making the most of these last weeks (months? Can I still measure in months?) I may not be cooking, but I'm far from deprived. In the past seven days, I've gone out to eat thirteen times. Sushi and champagne with a certain special someone. Mussels and red wine with my dad, visiting from out of town. Pork belly and creme brulee with friends for an early birthday dinner. I'm so filled with good food, and so filled with love.