HaShkeidiyot Porchot

As you may recall, our almond tree (i.e. our shkeidiyah, for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you) is, how shall I put this, um, well, rather, um, flower-challenged.

I mean, it got to the point that the only way we could sing the classic Tu B'Shvat song about the blossoming almond tree was with a healthy dose of irony and a great deal of snickering.

But as it turned out, the tree would be the one to have the last laugh.

Because sometime last year, we suddenly noticed that somehow, we were now the proud owners of a second – and more flourishing – almond tree. Apparently, seeds from the first tree had landed on the ground and had started growing.

And as if two almond trees weren’t enough, this year we discovered that there is now a THIRD – albeit still very small - tree on the premises!

Which means that we may have to rename TRLEOOB* to the Shiputzim Family Almond Orchard (i.e. pardes shkeidim, for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you).

But I’ll let you be the judge of that:

(As always, please click on the pictures for a much better view.)

!שבוע טוב וחודש טוב

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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog

In support of Chodesh Irgun?

Like just about every other parent in the entire country, I’ve never exactly been a big fan of Chodesh Irgun*.

* Chodesh Irgun in a nutshell: Chodesh means "month”, and irgun literally means "organization". Most youth movements (or at least the religious-Zionist ones) dedicate one month a year - usually around MarCheshvan - to what is essentially a month-long color war or competition between the different shvatim (age groups). Chodesh Irgun culminates with Shabbat Irgun, and on Motzai Shabbat Irgun, the oldest shevet (i.e. ninth grade) receives a permanent name. Feel free to check out my older Chodesh Irgun posts for more information. </nutshell>

In fact, over the years, I think I’ve pretty much mocked everything there is to mock about Chodesh Irgun… and then some.

So it’s probably only fair (i.e. l’maan haseder hatov, for the Hebraically-oriented amongst you) to give Chodesh Irgun’s supporters a chance to defend its honor.

Thus, I turned to the experts and asked each of them the following question:

What is the point of Chodesh Irgun? In other words, what purpose  - if any - does it serve? 

Here are their responses:

(I’ll let you decide if their answers help clear things up. Bonus points: See how many Heblishisms you can pick up…)

Chanich/ah #1:

“To have fun!”

Chanich/ah #2:

“To practice for the dance, which is the most important part of Chodesh Irgun. Also, instead of all the time having stam pe’ulot [Ed. - loosely: regular activities], you have Chodesh Irgun to make things a little more interesting.”

A member of what will soon be the new shevet:

“To organize and arrange the snif [Ed. – the local youth group chapter], and to open and start the new year.”

A former madrich/ah:

“To legabesh [Ed. – very, very, VERY loosely: to unite and to promote team spirit], and to give the kids a chance to do something that they don’t get to do everyday. It’s also supposed to be educational. The kids learn about the theme and leyaseim [Ed. – to implement] it.”

A dedicated member of “Iyov” (an acronym for “אשרי יושבי ביתך” – i.e. someone who doesn’t belong to any youth group):

“I never thought there WAS a point to Chodesh Irgun…”

What do your favorite chanichim and madrichim have to say on the subject?

Freshly Baked Goods Friday: French Coffee Cake Edition

{INSERT: pro forma – and patently insincere - apology about my prolonged absence}

As you may recall surely have forgotten by now, the [no longer] recent bat mitzvah report included the following picture:

For reasons presumably known to my mother (aka This Recipe’s Source), the cake on the right goes by the name “French Coffee Cake” --- although it’s neither French nor made with coffee. (Discuss amongst yourselves…)

I’m told that a certain Our Shiputzim reader/member of the extended Shiputzim clan refers to the same cake as “3-2-1 Cake,” because in its original form, the recipe called for 3 cups of flour, 2 cups of sugar, and 1 cup of shortening.

However, as is our habit here in TRLEOOB*, we’ve long since changed the recipe.

Thus, I felt that a name change was also in order.

But to my surprise, no one shared my feelings.

Indeed, in the requisite Shiputzim family vote on the subject, I was hopelessly outnumbered. Everyone else wanted to keep the original name.

This leads me to one of two conclusions:

1. Ours is a conservative household, where longstanding traditions are reverently upheld.
2. Ours is a frivolous household, where the meaningless and the irrelevant are irreverently mocked.

I’ll let you decide which statement is more accurate, but in the meantime, please remind me: what is this blog called again?

French Coffee Cake

Adapted from an old family recipe

Ingredients

• 4 eggs
• 2/3 cup canola oil
• 2 cups sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 3 tsp baking powder (i.e. one envelope, for my Israeli readers)
• 3 cups flour
• 1 cup mango juice

Topping

• 6 TBSP cocoa
• ½ cup sugar
• 2 tsp cinnamon

Directions

Separate eggs. Beat whites until stiff, and set aside.

Beat yolks, oil, and sugar together. Add vanilla and baking powder. Add flour alternating with juice, and mix well.

Gently fold the mixture into the egg whites, and then carefully pour some of the batter into a well-oiled tube pan. Sprinkle some of the topping over the batter, and then continue alternating batter and topping. Be sure to end with the topping.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45-60 minutes or until done.

Let the cake cool completely before removing it from the pan.

!בתאבון

!שבת שלום ומבורך

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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog

Fish Tank Friday: Erev Pesach 5772 Edition

As you may recall, our pet goldfish answers to the no-frills yet functional name “Fish.”

Which is highly appropriate, considering that from the moment he first arrived here in TRLEOOB* over five years ago, he (by tacit agreement, it was decided that Fish is a “he”)  has been living in what could charitably be called a no-frills yet functional aquarium – i.e. a cheap plastic container with jagged holes in the lid.

Yet lest you feel sorry for Fish and accuse us of animal cruelty, I should note that in spite of our best efforts and the benign neglect he has endured thanks to our tender, loving care, he actually seems to have thrived in his modest abode.

But last night, in honor of Pesach, Fish, um, moved a house (if you’ll excuse my Heblish).

And while admittedly, his larger and brighter new home – like his old one - is just a simple plastic container, at least it’s not as cheap and has smooth, round holes on top:

As always, please feel free to click on the pictures for a closer look.

!חג כשר ושמח

The entire Our Shiputzim staff wishes all our readers a very happy and kosher Pesach.

May we all be privileged to eat in rebuilt Yerushalayim from the zevachim and from the pesachim, speedily and in our days. Amen.

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*TRLEOOB=the real life equivalent of our blog

Out of this world

Have you ever heard people say that their memories are so bad that they’re likely to forget their own names next?

Well, apparently, that’s what happened to the producers of this Havdalah candle:

Someone should tell them that the missing letter in their company’s name makes a word, er, that is, a world of difference…

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P.S. The latest Kosher Cooking Carnival is available here. Special thanks to Batya for including my chocolate chocolate chip bars.

Bobi a”h

Today marks the yahrzeit of my dear grandmother z”l, a Holocaust survivor originally from Kovno, Lithuania.

As the oldest grandchild, I was privileged to enjoy a unique and close relationship with her, and from the time I was a baby and throughout high school, college, and beyond, her house was always my second home.

In fact, Bobi a”h (we spelled it “Bobi” – even though we pronounced it “Bubby”) played a major role in every stage of my life, and thus, there’s so much I could write about her.

I could tell you that she was the world’s best cook (as I’ve noted elsewhere on this blog); how she would sew gorgeous clothes for me; and how she taught me to drive.

I could describe our countless shopping expeditions; how she danced at our wedding; how she gave me cooking tips when I was a young bride; and – most of all - how she was always available to talk, to listen and to encourage.

But for now, I’ll suffice with three things that come to mind whenever I think about Bobi z”l.

1) First, I recall her love for Israel.

She came from a religious-Zionist (aka “Mizrachi”, as it was called in those days) family, and as a girl, she attended a Hebrew-language gymnasiah. (Whenever she saw her Israeli grandchildren and great-children doing their homework, she would say with a smile, “I also studied math in Hebrew!”)

After the war, she yearned to move to Eretz Yisrael. But since she was pregnant, my Zaidy a”h felt that it would be too dangerous for her to sail on a Ha’apalah ship and risk being detained by the British in Cyprus.

And in every US election, she would always make sure to vote for the candidate who was "good for Israel."

2) Second, I remember how much she treasured her beloved family.

Her kibbud em (honor for her mother) was legendary. Her marriage was a true partnership and a model of shalom bayit.

And, as far as she was concerned, nobody was more amazing, more wonderful or more perfect than any of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. No matter what we all did, she was convinced that there was no one better.

Her greatest joy was having any of us come for a visit, and she would spend weeks in advance cooking, baking, and planning elaborate menus for us.

3) The third thing about Bobi  a”h that always stays with me is her quiet, inner fortitude.

It was this strength that enabled her to survive the war’s horrors - young and on her own.

It was this strength that allowed her to leave her mother (after they had finally been reunited at the war’s end) and move with my Zaidy a”h to the US - a strange country, with a foreign culture and a foreign language.

It was this strength that transformed her – within an astonishingly short period of time - from a right-off-the-boat new immigrant to someone who would read English books for pleasure; who was the best-dressed woman wherever she went; and who knew all the latest American styles and fashions.

And yet, at the same time, it was due to this strength that when it came to important values and principles, she refused to compromise.

No matter that the “American” relatives insisted that public school was the “correct” choice. Bobi’s kids went to the local Jewish day school and to yeshivot, and Bobi and Zaidy were pillars of their Young Israel community.

And finally, it was this inner fortitude and determination that helped her do what she needed to do as a relatively young widow – such as going out to work (a difficult step for someone of her generation) and moving twice to a new state.

It was therefore an incredible honor, privilege, and comfort that a mere two weeks after Bobi a”h passed away, I gave birth to her oldest namesake yblt”a.

May all our children continue to emulate and learn from their special great-grandmother z”l.

.יהי זכרה ברוך

_________

*This post was based on a speech I gave in honor of Bobi’s Shloshim.

Freshly Baked Goods Friday: Nameless edition

What do you do when you’ve changed a recipe so much that the original name no longer makes sense?

Well, naturally, if you’re the Shiputzim family, you hold a contest to come up with an appropriate alternate appellation. (Try saying that five times fast…)

For instance, when I took the almonds out of a recipe called Almond Chocolate Cookie Bars and replaced them with colored sprinkles, we all submitted our favorite suggestions and then took a vote.

The winner?

No-Name Bars.

Generic yet to the point, the name tends to elicit a few raised eyebrows from our guests, but, hey, it works for us…

No-Name Bars

Loosely adapted from the “Hershey’s Homemade” (1991) cookbook

Ingredients

• 2/3 cup oil (i.e. 200 grams margarine במקור)
• ½ cup sugar
• ½ cup packed brown sugar
• 1 egg
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 cups flour
• 1 package chocolate chips
• Colored sprinkles (or very coarsely chopped nuts)

Directions

Beat oil and sugars. Add egg and vanilla. Mix in flour. Press batter into greased or baking-paper-lined 9x13 pan.

Bake at 350 degrees for 30-35 minutes or until lightly browned. Remove from oven and let cool for five minutes.

Pour chocolate chips over crust. As the chocolate melts, use a spatula to spread over the entire crust. Decorate with sprinkles. Cut into bars while still warm, and then leave them to cool (and the chocolate to harden) in the pan.

!שבת שלום ומבורך

Around the J-Blogosphere

Several items of note from around the J-Blogosphere:

1) שועלים הלכו בו. (“Shu’alim hilchu vo.” - “Foxes prowl over it.” – Eichah 5:18)

Har HaBayit after the Churban? Well, yeah, but also, Capitol Hill last Friday.

What’s the deeper significance of this modern twist on an ancient vision? I have no idea, but please leave your best creative suggestions (profound and/or humorous) in the comment section…

2) The latest Kosher Cooking Carnival is available here. Special thanks to Risa for including my cinnamon marble cake post.

3) Clearly, someone on Bnei Akiva’s executive board is an avid Our Shiputzim fan.

I mean, wouldn’t you agree that their choice of Na’aleh (literally, “we shall go up”) as the new shevet’s name is a clear indication that they read my Rosh Hashanah post, which declared that תשע”א (the Jewish year 5771) stands for תהא שנת עליה ארצה (“Tehei Shnat Aliyah Artzah” - “May this be a year of aliyah to Eretz Yisrael”)?

!שבוע טוב וחודש טוב

Chodesh Irgun 5771

I know what you’re thinking.

“Why haven’t there been any Chodesh Irgun posts on the Our Shiputzim blog this year?” you’re no doubt wondering.

And you do have a point.

However, I figured that I more or less exhausted the topic last year.

And besides, it’s been the usual toxic mix of late nights, neglected schoolwork, paint-spattered clothing, and arguments civilized discussions concerning any and all of the above.

Nevertheless, in the interest of good blogging, here are two Chodesh Irgun-related blogbits:

1) Note: The following scenario is based on recent events a work of complete fiction. Any resemblance to reality is purely intentional coincidental:

Mother: No, you can’t go paint the snif in those clothes. You know that they’ll get ruined. Why don’t you wear that old jean skirt that’s hanging in your closet?

Daughter: {horrified} No WAY am I walking around in that skirt!! Someone will SEE me!

Mother: {mistakenly believing that reason and logic can play a part in this exchange} First of all, no one will see you, because it’s dark outside. And anyway, what does it matter if they see you? Everyone knows that it’s Chodesh Irgun, and they’ll realize that you’re obviously on your way to paint the snif…

Daughter: {rolls eyes}

Does this sound familiar?

2) The new shevet's name – Na’aleh (literally, “we shall go up”) – has been announced.

In an effort to gauge popular sentiment in advance of their next release, the developers of the ever-popular Generation Gap program immediately took to the streets and recorded the following initial reactions:

“Well, it’s kind of strange to have a verb as a name, but it’s still pretty good.”

“It’s okay, I guess.”

“At least it’s not HaGevurah…

בהצלחה לכל החניכים והמדריכים

!ושבת שלום ומבורך

 

A Shabbaton by any other name

Two of the Shiputzim kids were away on two different weekend retreats this past Shabbat.

We interrupt this post to bring you the following digression:

In the States, such events are known as Shabbatons.

However, here in Israel, the term shabbaton (שבתון) means an academic sabbatical, while an organized Shabbat retreat for a specific group of people is referred to by one of the following names:

• Shabbat ______: The blank denotes either the event’s location (e.g. Shabbat Hevron, Shabbat Yerushalayim, etc.); the participants (e.g. Shabbat Machzor or Shabbat Shichvah – for a grade level, Shabbat Yeshiva or Shabbat Ulpanah – for an entire school, etc.); or the retreat’s objective (e.g. Shabbat Gibbush – literally, consolidation or solidification;  refers to a sense of cohesion, group spirit and camaraderie).
• Seminariyon: Literally, seminar.

This past Shabbat, for example, one of the Shiputzim kids was on a seminariyon, and the other one was on a Shabbat [Location]. But as far as I can tell, the two events were fairly similar.

And so I turn to you, dear readers, to help me understand the difference between these two types of Shabbat retreats. Thanks in advance for your input.

</digression>

We now return you back to your regularly scheduled post.

Both kids called home just before Shabbat.

One child vividly described the accommodations, the participants, the activities, the food, etc.

The other reluctantly responded to my questions with a few noncommittal monosyllables and said that “the details” [sic] could wait until after Shabbat.

Can you guess which one is a Shiputzim son and which is a Shiputzim daughter?

Who’s on first

From the very moment of this blog’s inception when Our Shiputzim transitioned into a full-blown slice-of-life blog, the editorial board declared that one of its primary objectives would be assisting and providing useful information for new olim.

Thus, the entire writing staff has made every effort to introduce and explain many of the quirks, foibles, and idiosyncrasies of Israeli life.

But, unfortunately, there’s at least one issue where you’re on your own.

Because, 11½ years after our aliyah, I’ve yet to figure out which is the most acceptable way to record a list of names.

You see, here in Israel, all of the following forms are used interchangeably and with equal frequency:

• <Lastname>, <Firstname> (i.e., with a comma)
• <Lastname> <Firstname> (i.e., without a comma)
• <Firstname> <Lastname>

In fact, sometimes, more than one form is used on the very. same. list.

Also, many Israelis have last names like Avraham, Yaakov, and Aharon, and many Israeli first names could easily pass as last names. (This guy famously represents one of the most egregious examples of this phenomenon.)

And to add to the confusion, many Israeli men rarely use their first names at all. (“Hi, my name is Cohen.”) Everyone – often including their own wives! – calls them by their last names.

So what should you do when you’re confronted by an ambiguous name, and you’re not sure which part is the person’s first name?

Well, when in doubt and when all else fails, I suggest that you go with the tried and true.

You know, something helpful like, “Hey, you…”

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Hat tip: This post was inspired by a question Ilana-Davita asked in the comment section of one of Batya's posts.

Generation Gap 1.5

As you will no doubt recall, last year, the Our Shiputzim R&D Department released a critically-acclaimed program which could accurately guess a reader’s age group.

Go ahead and try it out for yourself.

Now, according to the development team’s long-term strategic goals, the plan was to issue a brand new release in honor of this year’s Chodesh Irgun.

No one anticipated any problems, and in fact, the developers were certain that the new release would merely involve some minor tweaking to last year’s version.

After all, their inside source to the hadrachah world had told them the new shevet’s name on the Sunday before Shabbat Irgun. (Pretty cool, no? :-))

Note: The new name is Lehavah – להב”ה – literally, flame, but also an acronym for “L’Ma’an Shmo B’Ahavah” (Bnei Akiva’s theme this year) and “L’Shanah Haba’ah B’Yerushalayim HaBenuyah” (“Next year in rebuilt Yerushalayim.”) </Note>

Unfortunately, however, due to circumstances beyond their control, the developers had to settle for a mere upgrade – i.e. Generation Gap 1.5 (rather than Generation Gap 2.0).

What happened?

Well, after they were burnt last year, the older generation (i.e. 30+) was decidedly noncommittal:

“Lehavah? Hmmm. I’d better ask my kids what *they* think…”

But the only thing their kids would say was:

“At least it’s not HaGevurah…”

P.S. According to a popular joke currently making the rounds, Lehavah stands for Lo HaGevurah, Baruch Hashem…

News from around the J-Blogosphere

1) The latest edition of Haveil Havalim is available here. Special thanks to Artzeinu for including my alternate blog names post.

BTW, be sure to check out the comment section for more great name suggestions. In fact, in addition to all the very funny ideas listed there, commenter and guest blogger Malke had a serious one: “Shirbutim” (שירבוטים –  literally, doodles or scribbles) – which is what I’d probably use if I ever did decide to change the blog name for real…

2) The latest Kosher Cooking Carnival is available here. Special thanks to Mimi, who not only included my sweet and sour meatballs post but also inspired me to write it in the first place!

A blog by any other name

The problem with having “an irrelevant and misleading” [see sidebar at right] blog name is that it’s, well, irrelevant and misleading.

But adopting a new moniker at this stage of the game isn’t as easy as a hop, skip, and a mouse click either.

I mean, what about brand recognition? What about the legions of worldwide fans? What about all those water cooler discussions about the latest post? What about--

Yeah.

I guess I can change this blog’s name after all…

So, here are some of the shortlisted suggestions*:

• Our Shipudim – The life and times of an early 21st century carnivore
• Our Shikorim – The life and times of an early 21st century drunk
• Our Shikulim – The life and times of an early 21st century weight watcher
• Our Shizufim – The life and times of an early 21st century beach bum
• Our Shidurim – The life and times of an early 21st century television personality
• Our Shiputim – The life and times of an early 21st century referee
• Our Shivukim – The life and times of an early 21st century retailer
• Our Siddurim – The life and times of an early 21st century florist
• Our Shidduchim – The life and times of an early 21st century matchmaker
• Our Shibutim – The life and times of an early 21st century mad scientist

Let me know what you think about these ideas, and please feel free to add a few more of your own.

_____

* Glossary:

• Shipudim – שיפודים – Skewers
• Shikorim – שיכורים - Drunkards
• Shikulim – שיקולים – Weighing (plural)
• Shizufim – שיזופים – Suntans
• Shidurim – שידורים - Broadcasts
• Shiputim – שיפוטים – Judgment calls
• Shivukim – שיווקים – Marketing (plural)
• Siddurim – סידורים - Arrangements
• Shidduchim – שידוכים - Matches
• Shibutim – שיבוטים – Cloning (plural) 

Generation gap

The Our Shiputzim R&D department is pleased to announce the beta release of a complex algorithm which can determine a reader’s age group.

Please feel free to try it. You’re likely to find it surprisingly accurate. All you need to do is answer a single question:

When you heard that “HaGevurah” – הגבורה - (fortitude, heroism) is the new shevet's name, your immediate reaction most closely resembled:

[a] “HaGevurah sounds like a very nice name. What’s not to like about it? After all, gevurah is the midah (trait) of Yitzchak Avinu. I’m sure that the kids in the new shevet are very pleased with their new name.”

[b] “I’m so glad that we didn’t get that name…”

[c] “Oof! Why were we stuck with this name?! Why couldn’t they have given us a normal name?!”

[d] “I’m glad that they got rid of that name this year…”

If you picked [a], you are over the age of 30.

If you picked [b], you are between the ages of 16-29.

If you picked [c], you are in 9th grade.

If you picked [d], you are in 8th grade or below.