Friday the 13th Party...of 3.

We had planned a fun night of pizza, cupcakes, and drinking games centered around this past Friday the 13th, complete with a viewing of both classics "Friday the 13th" (1980) and "Friday the 13th II" (1982).  Sadly, only ONE PERSON actually showed up.  Wish I had known that before the three Family-size pizzas and 18 cupcakes were made.  ARRRRGGGG!

Not to be completely defeated, we rallied on, played the game (all 3 of us), gorged on pizza, and enjoyed my "Killer KupKakes", which turned out to be AWESOME!  By the end of the night our sides and faces hurt from laughing so hard; maybe it was meant to be just the three of us.

For a very decent recipe, try Alton Brown's Devil's Food recipe (although I HATE his frosting).  You can either make your own cherry pie filling (one of my faves by mybakingaddiction.com), or buy it in the can (I won't judge).  Bake the cupcakes, allow to cool five minutes, hollow out the middles, spoon in filling, top with cake you have hollowed out, and cover with a dollop of frosting once completely cooled.  


These little cakes look delightfully bloody, have a gooey gore center, and, of course, taste delicious! If prepared in a slightly "cleaner" way, these make for romantic Valentine's Day treats, too.

FUBAR

So, without working laptop loaded with the correct photo editing software, my blog has fallen sadly behind.  I will be trying to get everything uploaded from Poland, Mexico, Jerusalem, and in between in the next two weeks.  Unfortunately, it won't be chronologically accurate, but deal with it, okay?

Unplanned and Perfect: Our First Day in Jerusalem

Today is our first full day in Jerusalem.  We left CA Thursday at 10:30 am and landed (an hour late) at 2pm in Tel Aviv, Israel.  After clearing immigration, gathering baggage, passing through customs, and picking up our rental car, it was already 3:30. The drive to Jerusalem from Tel Aviv was surprisingly pretty, through green rolling hills dotted with homes, and we were even graced with a rainbow during a break in the light rain. Thank goodness for GPS; the road signs are mostly in Hebrew, but we found our hotel fairly easily, and by 4:30 we were parked, checked-in, and settled into our room.


Barely able to keep our eyes open, we were passed out by 5, awake again at 7:30 and ordered room service from the Shabbat (Sabbath) menu, which is all cold foods like salads, smoked salmon, cold cuts, etc. A Unisom each and we were out by 11.


Morning dawned clear and bright, and we woke refreshed and ready to get our Holy Land on.  Breakfast is provided as part of the room rate, and was quite good; several choices of cold cereals, smoked and pickled fish, fruits, yogurt, cold salads, and cheese, along with juices, coffee, tea, and assorted pastries. Our meal was healthy and delicious and a great way to refuel after airplane and airport food.

Old City walls, including Mount Zion (to the right)

Following a very rough idea of where we were going, we headed towards the Old City planning on visiting Mount Zion outside the Old City walls before venturing inside.

After only minor confusion, we stumbled upon the gravesite of Oskar Schindler made famous by Steven Spielberg's Schindler's List. It was quiet, and except for a small tour group, the graveyard was empty.

Oskar Schindler's grave. (Left: side view of grave with stones. Right: top of gravestone with inscription)

View of Jerusalem from Mount Zion cemetery.

We also visited the site of King David's tomb which is as unimpressive as all the websites and guidebooks say it was going to be.  Within the same complex is the Coenaculum (Latin for "dining room"), the hall that is the supposed place of the actual Last Supper.  The first time we walked through, it was thronged with tour groups, one of which was holding a loud prayer service in half of the smallish room.  The next time we passed through, two groups were leaving and another was on it's way in and we happened to get this shot between them.

The hall of the Last Supper

Adjacent to this site is the Church of the Dormition, the site where Mary, mother of Jesus, lived the rest of her life after Jesus' crucifixion and fell into a deep sleep (the "dormition") and died.


We entered the Old City through the Zion Gate on the south side and strolled through the Armenian Quarter to the Jaffa gate.  Just passed the gate is the entrance to the southern ramparts.  For 16 shekles ($4.26) each we gained admittance to the walls and some of the best views of both the old and new Jerusalem.

The ramparts dropped us just outside the security entrance for the Western Wall, the holiest spot in Judaism. Pictures of the Wall and the surrounding plaza are forbidden during Shabbat. There are separate sections for men and women at the Wall, so we split, had our private moments each, and met back in the center of the plaza.  As is tradition, I left a prayer on a slip of paper in the Wall itself.


From there we briefly entered the Muslim Quarter, were turned away by the nicest, politest, heavily-armed Israeli police officer at the entrance to Temple Mount, which is closed to non-Muslims during Shabbat. Feeling munchily, we opted for street-food as is our custom in foreign countries, and were delighted with the yummy chicken shawarma we shared.

Chicken shawarma & Pepsi, 25 shekles ($6.65)

The quieter streets of the Armenian Quarter

Without a map and no real inclination to visit any sites in particular, we happily wandered the ancient streets and inadvertently found ourselves on the Via Dolorosa, the path that Christ took from death sentence to crucifixion. Thronged with pilgrims, tourists, and locals alike, it was difficult to distinguish the stations that we passed or find much reverence in the experience since the streets are so different from the time of Jesus and are now lined with every kind of tourist shop imaginable.

"Hey, I think this is kind of important..."

Realizing that we had been on our feet non-stop for the last 6 hours and over 8 miles, we decided to take our aching feet back to the hotel, digest what we saw today, and maybe actually have a game plan for tomorrow and the rest of our time here in Israel.

For two jetlagged travelers just out for a leisurely stroll, we sure did find ourselves at several major tourist destinations and accomplished many things on our Israeli "to-do" list. Tomorrow we plan on visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (one of the alleged burial and resurrection sites), the Dome of the Rock, and the Mount of Olives, perhaps a drive back to Tel Aviv if the weather is nice.

I want a teapot that big.

The Taco Lady

"Señoras y señores, estamos comenzando nuestro descenso final en la Ciudad de México. El capitán y la tripulación le gustaría darle las gracias por volar con nosotros esta noche, y bienvenidos a México! "

 “Ladies and gentlemen, we are starting our final descent into Mexico City. The Captain and crew would like to thank you for flying with us this evening, and welcome to Mexico!”

For weeks I have dreamed of these words, knowing that within the hour of landing, my lust for REAL tacos would finally be satiated. For the uninitiated, Mexican street tacos bear almost no resemblance to the tacos found in the U.S., although in certain neighborhoods of the state’s capitol where we live a resurgence towards the traditional style is gamely feeding the migrant population, and turning gringo hearts like mine away from deep-fried crunchy shells and “smeat” found in drive-thus and chain restaurants to the marinated and seasoned meats chopped fine and served in small corn tortillas topped with salsa, cilantro, onions, and a squeeze of lime.

Upon arrival to Mexico, after passing immigration, jostling around the baggage carousel, and clearing customs, after being welcomed by family where everyone, male and female alike, hug and kiss with every hello and goodbye, after threading and bumping our way through Distrito Federal to the suburb of Tlalnepantla, I make my long-awaited request: bypass the house and take me straight to the Taco Lady.

On the corner of Calle Colima off the highway to Queretaro, under a tarp serviced by two propane tanks and electricity borrowed from one of her family member’s small tienda, the Taco Lady to me, also called Doña Guille by the family, serves up some of the best street tacos in all of Mexico. For the last 40 years my husband’s family has made Doña Guille’s tacos the stop for the common late-night snack or 4^th meal. The original owner of the store’s wife is Guillermina, and as a child, my husband’s cousin (primo Juan) simply latched on to the only other adult name he knew outside of the family: Guillermina, and so the Taco Lady became “Doña Guille”, although that is not her real name. To this day, no one in the family has ever called her anything else.

Doña Guille’s specialty is suadero, beef cut from the breast or brisket, chosen specifically for its tender, less muscle-grained texture, marinated and cooked in hot oil and then chopped fine, served in warm corn tortillas topped with onions, cilantro, and spicy salsa verde. Much to the chagrin of my hubby’s tender taste buds, Doña Guille always tops my tacos with extra salsa.

What makes tacos de Doña Guille so good is not just the suadero, which is the most delicious I have ever had, but the experience itself; the camaraderie of standing on the street corner in the glow and glare of sulfer streetlamps and clamped floodlights, the chatter and laughter of friends and family, and the knowledge that tomorrow, without fail, the Taco Lady will be back, slinging tacos 
and pombasos from when the sun goes down until the early morning hours, feeding neighbors and weary travelers alike.

Mmmm, Bacon (almost)!

I have been in a deeply committed love affair with pork products most of my life. I know, I know; we all love bacon, the golden child of pork, but I love the lesser heralded cuts, too. Some are pretty obvious: ribs, ham, and more bacon. But what about sausages and pancetta and even the maligned and lowly pork chop?

Now, I know none of this is good for me. I know I should limit not just my pork intake, but try and make more of my meals vegetarian in general. Oh, but I do so love the puerco!

This morning I had a hankering for one of my favorite sandwiches, a FEBLT: Fried Egg, Bacon, Lettuce, & Tomato. It indeed makes me "feebled" (get it?) in the knees just thinking about it. I prefer topping the over-easy eggs and oven-baked bacon with micro greens or a so-called spring mix, and summer-ripe heirloom tomatoes, lightly dressed with a just a teensy bit of EVOO and fresh cracked sea salt and pepper, all on toasted sourdough or a ciabatta roll.

So, I dug into the depths of the freezer and found a package of Morningstar faux bacon, normally reserved for when we have veg-head guests or our annual Lenten "no-meat" sacrifice. Baked in the oven at 400 degrees, I now have a tidy stash of perfectly crisp almost-bacon to use over the next couple of weeks AND I satisfied my hankering for a FEBLT.

Happy tummy, happy body. Talk about a win-win.