When we first went to Serafina on Einstein Street, when it first opened, before COVID, we didn’t expect much. We’d been to Serafina’s in New York and it was pretty average. So the one in Tel Aviv was about par for the course.
But we went back a few months ago and were pleasantly surprised. There was variety, the food was good, and so was the service. I even dared to each fish. And yesterday we went back and found it very good and quite expensive, with great service.
The only problem is that now that we have introduced the children to expensive restaurants, they automatically go to the bottom of the menu, where the highest price item awaits them.
it’s a remarkable play – but impossible to translate in detail. Every sentence has a reference to religious literature, and it is ingenious. But the plot is important to understanding some of the greatest conflicts of the society – the struggle between the religious life and the attempts to create an alternative culture.
In this case it is the struggle of the only son in a religious family between studying torah and writing poetry. There is so much poetry that develops from religious writings that although the play seems to indicate that the worlds are incompatible, they enrich each other. They do, in fact, save each other.
It was a shock for me to visit the supermarket today – on a Friday yet, when everyone is preparing for the sabbath.
I buy groceries online almost exclusively, ever since my back started going out. In my younger days I would spend one morning a week at the shuk hacarmel, but the publish-or-perish world took over and I shortened my shopping time by going to the local supermarket. But that too passed.
As the child of refugees it is terribly important for me to have a fully stocked pantry. Ezi, on the other hand, believes that I should buy what we need for the day, so that everything is fresh. It’s a nice thought, but I’m not capable of thinking that way, and although I shopped today for the week, I am already planning a list for next thursday.
Now everyone know you should never shop on Friday. But I had readings and lectures this week and had no time to really get it together, even online, and I cannot live without kale. And my grocer doesn’t carry kale. So we went to the supermarket.
Wow, all the shoppers were either men or frantic old ladies like me! Most of the men were making quick calls to their wives for advice, but there were some who were absolute masters – especially of the automatic checkout counter. Ezi, however, was determined to do the checkout on the app he had downloaded.
Everyone who is anyone lives within a five minute walk of my small apartment. Last night we were reminded of it when we tried to get to a reading in Jerusalem on time, but the new prime minister’s entourage stopped the traffic for a while. It’s strange – it isn’t much of a neighborhood, and yet we’ve had leading politicians here all the time. It really is such a small country.