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seafood chowder

by:Deanna Linder I wasn’t really the camping type when I lived in LA. Before I moved to Israel my camping experiences could be counted on less than one hand. So when I went on my first Israeli camping excursion back in 2000, I asked my camping partner/then boyfriend/now husband what I should bring. He told me he would take care of everything and that all I had to bring was a change of clothes and a bathing suit. We were going camping with another couple, one of Assaf’s best friends and his American girlfriend. We arrive at the campsite to unload. There it was standing in front of me: the friend’s tent, large enough to fit all four of us, with all the bells and whistles one (girl from LA) could ask for. He brought pillows, a down comforter, and mattresses. The works. There was our tent, directly across from their nature manor, a two-person tent bought from one of those gas station specials. No mattress, no pillow. Just me, him and my change of clothes. No matter how camping gear-less... 
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"44" Restaurant-Tel Aviv's Best Kept Secret

By: Danya Weiner Mine and Deanna’s birthdays are two weeks apart, and each year to celebrate, instead of buying gifts for one another, we go out to a nice restaurant. Come mid-October, just before our birthdays, we try to carefully decide which restaurant we want to treat ourselves to. We usually try to go with something culinary adventurous, that we can’t go to with our husbands, who are both culinarily challenged. This year we couldn’t decide where to go, and we almost decided to postpone the celebration due to the lack of plan. On the night we had planned to go out, I was strolling down the trendy “Nachalat Benyamin” street, when I recalled that I had done a photo shoot at a cool new restaurant called 44. I called to make the reservation and the hostess explained that they were having a special evening that night-a Vietnamese grill night-on the outside patio of the restaurant. Total karma. The night was amazing on all fronts. The food was divine, the music (live dj) was spot... 
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Soup for a Soul Brother- Corn Chowder

By: Deanna Linder Twelve years ago I met Assaf, outside of the discotheque in Club Med in Eilat, while vacationing in Israel. It was one of those chance meetings that change your life in a drastic way. Incidentally though, along with meeting my soul mate, I also received a “soul-brother”. I just made up the term so I will elaborate. Yonatan was then 8 years old. I was 18. Exactly 10 years apart (to the day). I barely spoke Hebrew and he barely spoke English, but we understood each other. We bonded over our shared love for soccer, watching the same movies repeatedly, fresh squeezed juices, hanging by the pool, etc. We hung out for days on end (Assaf was in the army) simply enjoying each other’s company, and learning a different language (him English, me Hebrew).  At that time I was still living in the states and would come visit often. Every time I would leave, he would prepare for me a “flight-package”- a collection of crossword puzzles (he made himself), drawings, old photos... 
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Saturday Morning at the Beach and Borscht

By: Danya Weiner Last Saturday I woke up at six in the morning and looked at the sky. After a stormy night, the white clouds and rays of sun signaled to me that my plans to join a group of men for their breakfast on the beach were still on.  I know it may sound like some weird plans for a married mother of two but there is an interesting story behind it. A few weeks ago I asked my uncle, Josie, about to tell me all about his “Saturdays on the Beach”. For years now I know my uncle has been meeting with a group of his friends, all men, on the beach in Herzilya every Saturday and having a feast. I decided it was time to see what this was all about. Twenty eight years ago- yes 28!- a guy named Gideon Ackerstein sat on the beach after a run and had a snack of pickled herring with two of his friends who lived in Herzilya. Gideon knew my uncle from work and he asked him to join along one day, for a shot of vodka and some pickled herring after a run.  They started making it a weekly habit,... 
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Italian Bean and Pasta Soup (Pasta e Fagioli)

I have a theory that the world divides into two types of people based on several different categories. These categories include, but are not limited to the following: those who prefer to drive with the windows open/those who prefer to drive with air conditioning; those who prefer to sleep on the side of the bed next to the wall/ those who prefer sleeping away from the wall; and those who eat soup all year round/those who can only eat soup in the winter. I’m a drive with the windows down, sleep away from the wall and eat soup all year round kinda girl. Until recently I thought that these were innate qualities that are predetermined and attest to other parts of ones’ personality. I have been proven wrong. I not sure whether it’s the final stages of pregnancy or the lack of onset of winter, but the thought of eating soup for the past several months has made me cringe. Finally, well into the first week of December, the winter has briefly appeared. A few hours of rain, and the craving... 
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