Sunday Funday

Breakfast is a strange thing -- not in general, but to me, because I never eat it, the entire concept and the choices around it are strange. Today, one of my goals was to eat breakfast and by golly, I was gonna make sure to do it. I slept but little last night so I'm as fresh as I usually am. I felt that it was too early for pizza (blasphemy to certain of you, no doubt), but I wanted to be dairy because I didn't know what my lunch options would be. I wanted something of substance, not just a pastry. I don't even LIKE psatry. What the heck is a pastry, anyway? And don't get me started on Danishes. Sneaky little buggers.

I also didn't want to go to Sam's Bagels again; it is yummy but I need to spread the love around and there must be many options. I was wrong about that. I know what I don't want but I'm not sure what I do want. Short story short I chose to go back to Gan Sipor because:

I enjoyed it so much the last time I was there. We shall never speak of the kalamata incident again.

It close to Nomi and David's.

I love the cobalt blue water bottles.

The walk there is almost all downhill. Cut me some slack. I didn't sleep much and the prospect of walking uphill on an empty stomach didn't sit well with me.

I came in to the restaurant and was immediately ignored, as is the local custom. I was asked if I had a reservation (the place was near empty) and when I said "no" I was told, "OK, one moment." And then they ghosted me for a few minutes until I repeated this dance with another hostess. I was shown to my table and told I had until 11:45. It was 10. I should be good. You know what would have been good for breakfast? Dunkin, that's what.

I was asked my allergies by my server, which was a new one to me. Then she asked for a urine sample and my mother's maiden name and I requested that she keep it all business for the moment. I couldn't get her to understand the idea of a cup of no-sugar-no-lemon-no-outside-flavor iced tea. The menu says that they have fresh made iced tea but when I asked for just ice and cold, she kept asking "what kind?" When I asked for a tea bag in water but cold, she indicated that such a thing simply could not be done. I gave up on tea and tried to describe an iced coffee without using the words "ice coffee" because I have learned that if I say that in Israel,  I would get some sort of horrible slushie. Gross. I convinced her to bring me a cup of black coffee and a separate cup of ice -- like a fancy, deconstructed iced coffee which I assemble at the table with, no doubt, IKEA like directions.

She returned to tell me that my appetizer (a cheesy bread with dipping sauces) is made in a factory that uses nuts. I pulled out my Benadryl and slapped it on the table like I was raising and going all in. She also said that the black bread had nuts in it so I opted for the whiter bread with my main (a frittata - neither free nor a tata. Discuss). When I told her my order, she confirmed that I knew that a frittata is a ________ [something in Hebrew]. I felt like saying, "ma'am, I'm clearly American and am using the English menu. What makes you think that you will clear up my comprehension of a word by giving me the Hebrew equivalent? If I knew it in Hebrew, don't you think I have said something? So anyway, white bread but I mental promise to think depressing thoughts while I ate it.

Also, I'm getting regular coffee. It isn't that I don't fear what the caffeine will do to me but I sense that I would have had no success explaining "decaf". And it is morning and I have no place not to be so caution to the wind, I say. A coffee! Assemble!

The cheesy bread was good and the three sauces were yummy but ony one approached "tangy" or "tingly." None was spicy in any meaningful sense. Did I need both an appetizer and a main for breakfast? Yes. Yes I did.

And the service was really good. At one point, the waitress came over and took the dirtied napkin that I had on my lap and gave me a new one so I wouldn't be uncomfortable (her word). I don't know what she meant and wouldn't think to be uncomfortable because I wiped my face on a napkin but now she has me worried that I should be uncomfortable. All in all, a really delicious meal. I can tell it was good because I didn't miss dessert when I skipped it and, though I was stuffed, I still eyed every plate that came out thinking, "Darn! I could have gotten that!" Roll me home, Jeeves. 118 NIS plus a well-deserved tip.

I walked back to the house. The temp was in the upper 80's (that's 28ish in centipede). There was a comfy breeze and I had a goofy grin on my face as I enjoyed the meal and the weather and the day. People stared at me because I was the smiling idiot wearing the long sleeve shirt. They aren't used to seeing me smile.

I got back and decided to try to take a nap and watch Reels instead. There are, by my count, only 3 recipes on the internet at any one time. For each one there are 16 million reaction videos in which people don't believe the recipe works so they make comments as they watch an earlier video and then try it themselves and react. Then someone reacts to that. It is all very cannibalistic, but that's how science looks to any sufficiently undeveloped culture. Half an hour of that and a young man's fancy turns to lunch. One cannot take one's foot off of the gustatory pedal. Eating everything requires constant vigilance. David and I took off to "Tommy's" on KKL. The walk there was uphill both ways even though we only went one way. That's the prime example of faith and I have it in spades. I ordered crsipy chicken nuggets and a Sprite Zero (no lemonade on the menu). David got wings and a burger and we shared onion rings. 176 NIS.

I noted that religion is so engrained in public life that it is part of the secular world's natural mode of expression. Popular songs use religious language if not entire verses. Motivational speeches quote from the Jewish texts. I noticed the guy behind the counter (long beard and kippah on different parts of his head) said to a customer (no kippah at all, tatoos etc) "Hashem should bless you" and the other guy smiled and said "amen.' There was no acrimony, no judgment, no offense given or taken. No one felt pressured or threatened.

We took the road more easily traveled on the way back. It was time for an afternoon's relaxing by watching videos and not sleeping. Then Natasha Batsheva came over with her youngest (cha cha or chooch, not Tzippy the pin head...yet) to say hi and pick up stuff I transported into the holy land for her. This was my first time meeting the bebe. Lovely girl and so is the baby. We caught up between episodes of child watching. During the meet, I set up my dinner with the Lauderdales at an Asian restaurant. How exotic.

The restaurant is "Super Mizrachi" which is exactly what I would call a fancy Asian place (narrowly beating out 'Awesome Orient'). From the outside you see a little Asian bodega (do those have a different name?) which you walk into and, if you don't squeeze in properly, you get an imprint of rice flakes and seaweed candy on your back. There is another door at the back and it leads into another dimension of lights, opulence and air conditioning.  Man, those Asians know what they are doing. I ate with the Lauderdales and Marci.

Senja got a poke bowl with intense flavors of mango, beets and Asian bamboo. There was seasonal fruit and raw salmon -- reportedly, the proportions were good. Aunt Marci got "Avocato" which is an avocado roll with sweet potato in it. Its protein was cooked salmon and there was nothing in it she didn't like. Huzzah!

Steve and I wore our entrecotes proudly -- his a medium rare and mine the more common simple medium. The plates were on platforms, like a cake plate. I didn't think it necessary because the steak was tall enough already, but ego and vanity ruled the day. For dessert, Steve had Musi Musi, a boldly chocolate mousse with brownies and sprinkled with something which, I have bo doubt, would send me to the shelter of my little pink pills. It was all topped with olive oil (RIP Shelly Duvall) and served in a plate that looks like I made in camp. When I was 8. And drunk.

The conversation, about life, kids, memories and memories yet to be made was warm, funny and really appreciated. Kudos to you kiddos and thanks for the evening out. Senja drove me back and here I am, ready to fail at sleeping again.