Every morning, when the radio alarm wakes me up with the Shema and a chapter of Pirkei Avot (Ethics of the Fathers), I know why I made aliyah. The week before Pesach, as I watch the garbage collectors emptying garbage containers many times to completely clear the area of every bit of chametz – and

Jerusalem was just beginning to close down on erev Yom Kippur as my husband and I made out way to the hospital to see our daughter and her newborn son. The food for our seudah mafseket (the meal before the Fast) was in the oven and we wanted to give our daughter and new grandson

The Three Weeks between the 17th of Tammuz and the 9th of Av are a time of special mourning for the Jewish people, but it’s not always possible to conjure up in your heart this real feeling of sorrow when you’re privileged to live in modern, thriving Jerusalem of 2008 (let alone if you are

“We’re at Nezer Hazani,” the woman sitting next to me called into her cell-phone. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Obviously someone was arguing with her at the other end. “I said we’re in Nezer Hazani”, she insisted. I tapped her on the shoulder. “We’re not at Nezer Hazani,” I whispered. “We’re at

An attempt to “recipe-ify” delicious, homemade, instinctive cooking.