Ode to the Mediterranean diet - Portion, proportion and price

                                           (Eggplant and tahina as prepared by my wife)

I just returned from a three-week trip to the United States. I was happy to return to my bed, cats, computers and, no less importantly, my diet.  It was not that I ate badly on my trip.  I ate solid American food, fancy French food, tasty Asian food and good basic Mexican food, to name a few.  I certainly did not go hungry.  Still, it is a relief to go back to my Mediterranean diet, filed with lots of vegetables in dishes and salads, a reasonable amount of protein, fresh fruit and nuts.

At each of the restaurant types I dined in, something seemed off.  Typical American fare, such as deli sandwiches, pancakes and American breakfast, is tasty and filling but the portions are simply too big.  The feeling after the meal borders and even sometimes crosses over to heaviness. While it is possible to order smaller portions or split dishes, the eyes are much bigger than the stomach.  The food on the plate only turns out to be too much when after you have finished eating it. I really can live without American food.

I also enjoyed several Asian restaurants.  I relish curries and spicy food. The issue is the matter of proportion.  Hot is as hot feels. Everybody has a different comfort zone but a restaurant can only cater to it to a limited degree. I always felt that I wanted it a bit hotter or milder. Having eaten Chinese food in China I understand that there simply is no single standard of spicing.  The process of trial and error is a long process. Also, the proportion of meat to vegetables is low by Western standards. That is probably good for the body but not always enough for the soul. For me, Asian food is a treat, not an everyday meal.

I also dined a several very fine French restaurants.  The portions were right for middle-aged persons and left me with a nice feeling of having eaten enough but not too much. The taste was rich with complicated sauces complementing the well-prepared meats.  The problem was that the price was rich also.  Comparing the price and the amount of food it purchased, something seemed off. While I was satisfied in terms of quantity and quality, the cost seemed exorbitant. French restaurants are an expensive diet.

Now I am back home with my eggplant, chopped vegetable salad, tahina, shakshuka, falafel, kabab and humus, not to mention lamb, chicken and fish.  The portions, even in restaurants, are sufficient but not exaggerated. The flavors are balanced.  If I want it hotter, I can add some sahug, a hot pepper condiment. The prices are quite reasonable by local income standards and more than reasonable for tourists. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder.  I would say it also has the same effect on the taste buds and stomachs.

Soul Food for a Split Soul

Every country has serious debates on what constitutes the national dish that makes it unique.  This debate is often fruitless (pun intended) because foods tend to ignore artificial political borders, as the case of baklava, and represents different groups in that society, such as grits in the United States.  Perhaps, a simpler definition of a national food, a soul food in a certain sense of the word, is the dish you have to eat after spending a year away from your homeland.  It does not have to be fancy, but has to have the unique “national” taste that you can only find at home. Having a schizophrenic identity, American, French, and Israeli, and a love of tasty food, I can offer my perspective of what each of those countries offers in terms of unique taste. 

When I visit the States, I insist on at least one meal of barbeque baby back ribs.  I also thoroughly enjoy a good steak (although I hear that Argentina has better meat).  Two other items I like are good pancakes and a thoroughly American Taco-Bell taco (any connection to Mexico is completely accidental).

France for me has to include some paté de champagne on a good baguette as well as some moules marinieres at the Côte Azur.  My sweettooth (a wonderful word, in common with bookkeeper, having three consecutive sets of double letters), is satisfied by a petit pain au chocolat, the quality of which has unfortunately significantly declined in the last decade, and a crêpe au Grand Marnier, my only childhood special dessert still as tasty now as it was then.

Israel, my home, greets me with a plate of good humus with tehina and olive oil, eaten by dipping with fresh pita , accompanied by a good sehug, a spicy accoutrement made from hot green or red peppers.  For something slightly more elegant, I enjoy a grilled musht, Saint Peter’s Fish, served with salad and some fries, enhanced by the view of the Kinneret, the Sea of Galilee, at least in the spring and fall.  A more recent acquired taste is grilled eggplant with tahina, a simple but perfectly balanced pleasure.  For desert, the ideal light Israel desert in the summer is sweet watermelon accompanied by pieces of salty Zefat cheese, a wonderful combination.

For me, these are my national foods.  It makes no difference what their country of origin is.  The essential is that they represent the taste of home.  I don’t expect total agreement with my opinions, but am interested in hearing other thoughts on the subject.