Winter Cold and Mushroom Barley Soup

Yom revi'i, 7 Shevat 5774.

It's been about a month since Snowfesh Hagadol, the big snowstorm of 2013.

Being snowed in for a few days has long been a favorite Eastman tradition; and it is always a pleasure to be able to recreate this rare experience in the Holy Land. Rather than suffering "cabin fever," as many people do, we enjoy being locked up together, with no particular place to go.

I did say "well-used," yes? Click to embiggen.

There is also the opportunity to make delicious soups, more welcome even than in normal cold weather. During the storm, I decided to pull out my trusty and well-used Moosewood Cookbook (1977), by Mollie Katzen, and make her Mushroom-Barley Soup, a favorite of all my guys.

Over the years, I've learned many tricks about cooking, from -- among others -- my mother, and from my friend  Marc Gottlieb (who is a chef de cuisine and fellow blogger).

Mama taught me about choosing mushrooms, and about how to prepare them. Fresh mushrooms still have closed caps. (You can certainly still use mushrooms once the caps have begun to open; but they are nicest when still closed.) She taught me not to wash mushrooms, lest the water cause them to break down and get mushy. Rather, she recommended peeling the mushrooms to expose the lovely white flesh underneath. Marc and I disagree about the necessity for this -- but sometimes tradition wins out.

Marc taught me a wonderful little secret about garlic. Every year at Pesach time, I buy bunches of fresh garlic at the shuk, and hang them outside to dry. In the past, I would throw away the long stalk, and only use the head of the garlic. But tucked away inside the stalk are several little "baby garlics," quite intense in flavor and -- let's face it -- adorable.

Hidden gold, and worth the effort.

Who would have thought garlic could be cute?

So putting the soup together is straightforward, but photo-worthy.

I have not yet found dry sherry in Israel; so I settle for dry white wine.

This kashrut symbol delights me, as it points out that the factory is Sabbath-observant.

A chance to show off a favorite invention: the French butter keeper. The butter stays fresh and spreadable, on the counter. Every once in a while, I understand Julia Child's fascination with French cookery.

Another tool I love. Besides mincing everything from garlic to herbs to nuts beautifully, this curved board and blade are very cathartic. Ask all of the seminary girls who've come to my kitchen and methodically chopped their anxieties to bits.

Sauté onion in butter. Add garlic.

Now it's time for the mushrooms. (Do I hear my Dearly Beloved in the background? "But there's not mush room in the pan..." Yes, his jokes are old. But he is such a fun guy.)

This soup is great "as is" -- but a little grated Parmesan makes it perfect.

And à la La Child -- don't forget the nice, crisp white wine.

 A month ago, I rewarded the Dearly Beloved for cleaning the thirty-three steps down to our apartment of ice with a nice, hot bowl of soup. (Note to self: never take for granted that your husband is easy to please.)

Taking out all the recycling in that weather earned him seconds. (Thank you, dear friend.)

I love warm, sunny weather. I love spring breezes and crisp autumn chill. I love winter, with its time for solitude and introspection, getting close and warming ourselves over hot soup and warm friendship.

Yesterday, I got the pleasure of making the soup again for very special friends, my mechutenet, and for my friend and fellow blogger Shprintz. (You can check out her heartwarming posts about the Israel she loves and misses at her blog Remember Jerusalem, dedicated to her dear father, "Avraham Shalom ben Chaim Yoel, a"h, whose flair for photography, penchant for prose and love of the Land inspire" her blog.

My bracha to all of us: May we share many bowls of soup, over long, healthy, happy years... right here in Israel.

Mollie's Mushroom-Barley Soup ingredients

Glossary:
Snowfesh Hagadol: An invented term, "the great snow vacation." The word for vacation is "chofesh." Some clever wag pointed out that the snow was giving us a big vacation, a "snowfesh" gadol.
Kashrut: kosher, according to Jewish dietary laws
Mechutenet: This word does not exist in English. It means "my married child's spouse's mother." But it's not referring to my son's relationship with his mother-in-law. That word would be "chotenet" or "chamot." What makes this designation unique is that it refers to my relationship with my son's mother-in-law. Cool, eh?

Proof that Washers DO Eat Socks

Yom rishon, 19 Tevet 5774.

The Hebrew expression of the day is "שקית רשת." A sakit reshet is a net bag. It has a zipper closure, costs less than five shekels, and could have saved me several hundred shekels.

During "Snowfesh Hagadol," the great snowstorm of 2013, not only did the power go out at interesting times, but our washing machine also died, creating a flood that kept me from being bored for several hours during the middle of being snowed in.

Being happily responsible for the laundry of several humans, it was imperative that we get the thing fixed as soon as possible. It was a question of whether it had been used to death, and would need to be replaced, or could be reasonably repaired to limp along for a few years.

We checked the GushPhon Classified Business listing -- a marvelous tool I highly recommend for both residents of Gush Etzion and people anxious to share their skills. There were several entries; and I chose to give a call to Zvika Hershkowitz. (Or Tzvika -- yes, the listing is in both transliterations, like so many other things in Israel).

I no longer worry about silly little things like creating the perfectly fluent Hebrew request for service, as I have found that between my pidgin Hebrew and Yiddish, and their pidgin English, we can usually work out what is the problem. Zvika said he was up to his eyeballs (my phrase, rather than his, as I don't think that expression even exists in Hebrew) with fixing the electricity in synagogues and other crises far more important than my little washing machine troubles. We agreed I would call him later in the week. I called this morning, and he made time to come by.

I asked him what he thought it would cost to fix the washing machine, and incidentally to make the dryer function without roaring us to the brink of auditory insanity. He gave me a reasonable quote up front. This was good. If he'd quoted me an hourly rate, I would have been simmering quietly, as he got perhaps ten calls during his visit. Popular guy. I could see why: As things fell off the walls and into his path, he kept saying "Ain baya, ain baya (no problem, no problem)," very cheerfully. (It's a very tiny room, and storage in Israeli apartments is at a premium.)

Zvika finished the work in under an hour, explaining the problem in detail (various socks, and something reminiscent of Sixties paraphernalia (I'll speak to my sons about that one...), and how to avoid such problems in the future.


As he cheerfully took my money -- thank God, we had stashed some for just such an occurrence -- he gave me the Jewish mother lecture I have come to expect from every worker in Israel.  Translated: "If you will use a zippered net bag for socks and small items, you can spend the money on that, instead of giving it to me." And, of course, clean out the pockets.

When I asked him how long he thought my washer and dryer might last, he pointed heavenward. "Machar, machartayim, eser shanim... rak Hashem yodea." (Tomorrow, day after tomorrow, ten years... only God knows.) I love frum (religious) workmen for their honest reliance on the One Above.