All Purpose Dark

The Forward interviews Persian Jewish actress Bahar Soomekh who'll be sharing the screen with Tom "cray-cray" Cruise this summer in Mission Impossible III. A perusal of her credits on imdb.com also reveals that she had a bit part in last year's "24" which also starred another fantastic Persian actress (though not Jewish, I think) Shoreh Aghdashloo who blew me away with her portrayal of a Persian mother in House of Sand and Fog (though apparently the academy felt that Rene Zellweger's anorexic pouting deserved the award more that year!). Anyhoo...this concludes our game Six Degrees of Persian Actresses.

Gardening isn't really my thing. Except when tomatoes cost over $2/pound. Then I'm all green thumbs. Here are some of my own 100% organic non-genetically modified yet disconcertingly large tomatoes. Makes me wonder about what's in Miami Beach water.....

A strip mall is not normally where you'd find a rollicking, well-dressed, sunset soiree. Unless of course you live in South Florida in which case a strip mall constitutes 70% of most locations.

Last week Aventura Magazine welcomed new hotshot on the Biscayne block Sushi House for a grand opening smorgasboard to rival any Bar Mitzvah. The free drinks were flowing, and the sushi chefs could not make their fancy tempura/jalpeno/spicy octopus concoctions fast enough for this wily crowd. There was much feasting on tuna tartare on tortilla chips, ceviche, and seaweed salad galore.
The crowd was...mixed. There were trendy young professionals with cute dresses and fun haircuts and then there was the geriatric Williams Island crowd. Except these people must be the crazy rich types who tear napkins in half to make the stack last longer because they were chowing that free tempura like there was no tomorrow.

The Sushi House aims high, though. With decor that harkens the early days of the Delano (white curtains and lucite chandeliers, anyone?) and a long sleek marble bar running through the middle of the spacious room, this place may become the Ivy's only competition in Aventura for the legions of young professionals that live there and prefer not to drive 10 miles for dining in stylish surroundings.

This pic says it all - notice the dude on the left. Yeah, he likey his red winey.

Jane Jacobs died yesterday. And the world lost a fantastic thinker. Her book, The Death and Life of Great American Cities introduced me to thinking citically about urban planning, neighborhoods, and the general functioning of these beasts (love them though we do) we call cities. She is the reason I ride a folding bike to work, why I am thankful I can walk to my local grocery store, why everytime a developer proposes new highways or gated communities I cringe. From the Times obituary:

Her impact transcended borders. Basing her findings on deep, eclectic reading and firsthand observation, Jacobs challenged assumptions she believed damaged modern cities -- that neighborhoods should be isolated from each other, that an empty street was safer than a crowded one, that the car represented progress over the pedestrian.

Her priorities were for integrated, manageable communities, for diversity of people, transportation, architecture and commerce. She also believed that economies need to be self-sustaining and self-renewing, relying on local initiative instead of centralized bureaucracies.

We have Jacobs to thank for Washington Square Park not being a highway, for parks that have benches so people can socialize (though the idea was booed for fear that would encourage loitering and homeslessness), for streets that have vibrant "stoop life" rather than bright lights (which accomplish nothing if someone is getting mugged - people stop crime, not lights). For mixed use neighborhoods. Everytime I pass by a refurbished municipality that is dangerous and deserted at night (San Francisco) or ride through neighborhood with highrises and no communal areas (Brickell in Miami), I think about Jacobs. In short, JJ was an awesome woman, a fierce mind who influenced the world for better.

Stop what you are doing right now and head over to the closest Ben & Jerry's. In addition to the free i-cream madness, they are running a contest for new wacky names! Might I suggest the "All Purpose Dark Crunch," a blend of mocha ice cream, pomegranate juice swirls, and nuggets of crunchy wisdom.

I have been a 'lil busy the past couple of days and thus a naughty blogger. Do forgive me, love, and though these party pics be a bit tardy, enjoy the revelry post-haste.
Onto the festivities!

Last week Jonathan Adler played host to Florida Inside Out magazine's one-year anniversary at his charming Lincoln Road store. It seems like only yesterday when I hoisted sails up to a Boca Raton Robb & Stucky store to welcome the new mag and was thoroughly impressed with the high-level content and layout. The Jonathan Adler store was jam-packed with local design and magazine glitterati and happy, luxe, nostalgic home furnishings. Jonathan (wearing the green polo on the right) was hospitable and friendly, kind of like his decorative pillows.

Every Wednesday night in May! Grab a slice at Andiamo and enjoy. Two out of the five movies feature J. Lo!

Sure, the "Thursday Styles" section in the NYTimes is consumerist-heavy and far from pressing news. It's the only section of the Times that may actually cause brain atrophy. Alex Kuczynski's "Critical Shopper" column is the single redeeming feature of the section. How else would readers know that the Abercrombie and Fitch flagship store in New York has hearing-damaged salespeople? But The New Republic takes aim at the frothy section with a biting essay on the paper's seeming self-aware embrace of materialism.

In fact, it's precisely this simultaneous mocking of, and wallowing in, our luxe-life obsession that makes "Critical Shopper" a creation of Frankensteinian genius. Plenty of Times readers may be dying to hear every last detail about the parking lot at Fred Segal's Melrose Avenue store, but some may feel a twinge of shame about their aggressive acquisitiveness. After all, the Times is bringing luxury porn to a much broader audience than, say, Millionaire or Rich Guy magazine. Those publications are preaching to the choir of conspicuous consumption--to readers who not only have scads of money but have few qualms, if any, about spending it ostentatiously. "Thursday Styles," by contrast, is seeking new converts, reassuring its more skeptical readers that there's really nothing wrong with showing off their good fortune. This is delicate work considering that even many ultra-affluent Times readers belong to the ambivalently wealthy ranks of the "Bourgeois Bohemians" profiled so piquantly in now-Timesman David Brooks's 2000 classic, Bobos in Paradise.

The term "luxury porn" seems a bit excessive, but catchy nonetheless.

Help the Zagat's people do their job by filling out their NYC restaurant survey. These guides are "semi-useful" as directories and absolutely useless if you're looking for "candid," reviews that are "accurate," and composed by "discerning" writers who "compile" restaurant "reviews" for a living.

Lest you think all the condos, hotels, and speedboats have taken over, a giant leatherback comes ashore to remind us all that South Florida is an episode of "Wild Kingdom" always in progress.

Nature paid Miami Beach a little visit this weekend in the form of a 1,000 pound sea turtle laying her eggs in the sand. It was a glorious site with all varieties of beachgoers (pajama-clad toddlers to sweating morning joggers) gathering around and marveling at the miracle of birth. It was also an opportunity for a nature lesson for all the kids and adults in attendance. Apparently sea turtles lay anywhere from 90-120 eggs at a time. After covering them with sand the mama goes back out to sea leaving the ones to incubate for 90 days. It's so...Darwinian...so Survival of the Fittest. Kind of like Miami herself.
Photo courtesy of B. Ahern of M D P & R

NYTimes Jerusalem Bureau chief Steve Erlanger must be getting really antsy in Israel these days. What with Sharon's coma, suicide bombings being few and far between (thank God) , and Ehud Olmert's BORING election, there's not much to write about in the world's most newsed-about city. How else to explain why the paper gave the greenlight for this tired travel piece on Jerusalem? Oh, how I wish they had sent him on a vacay to Dubai.

Erlanger's mind-numbing hook, "Jerusalem is a city built on struggle and rivalry among gods and tribes and those who misuse them," is so obvious, so uninsightful, it sets you up adequately for the yawning to come.

His central thesis, that Jerusalem is a city in flux, an epicenter of tension and change and therefore a compelling place to visit, is composed so clunkily that the LAST thing you'd do is board a non-stop to Tel Aviv.

Jerusalem is at peace, but not with itself. There is anxiety on the streets; every ring on the cellphone thrums with alarm. When I travel between West and East, especially on a Saturday, the city feels fragile, its anxieties cloistered by the wall that surrounds most of the city and cuts through part of it.
For many travelers, that fragility is a compelling reason to visit Jerusalem now to experience an extraordinary city at an extraordinary time, and to see it as a modern city of contention, not just as a Biblical Disneyland.

Yeah, sign me up for a trip to contention-ville. What about a little journalism trick called "color"? You know, the sights, the sounds, the smells, what you observe walking through the alleyways, the fruit and spice markets, even the suburban shopping mall? You're still in the Middle East, buddy, there's more than just politics and archeology to write about. Here Erlanger's lack of talent betrays him. Over and over again he falls prey to the worst thing a writer can do in a travel piece - he tells rather than shows. Especially in a place where there is so much to show, these pedestrian observations are pure laziness. Here's an illustration:

Farther down the hill, you can also see evidence of the extensive dam and tunnel system dug by King Hezekiah in 700 B.C. to ensure that water from the Gihon Spring could be brought inside the walls of the city when the Assyrians besieged it, and to hide the spring itself from enemy eyes. The huge cistern appears to be Caananite, and it is oddly moving to hear the water rushing as it did two millenniums ago. I note the irony of the Palestinian workers, who see themselves as descendants of the Caananites, laboring for the Israeli Antiquities Authority in a tourist area controlled by a foundation that wants to implant more Jews in their neighborhood, Silwan.

It would have been nice to get oh, I dunno, a QUOTE from one of those aforementioned Palestinians. You know, one of those methods by which a reader knows you've actually spoken to the "natives" and recorded their point of view.Embarrassingly the only poetry in the article comes by way of an astute tour guide:

The Romans, like Americans, says Avner Goren, an archeologist and guide, had their vision of how best to organize human communities— in cities of a certain design, with sanitation and walls and straight streets. "They brought their one truth to this place of many truths and faiths," he says, pointing to the site of the new Roman city they built, now the "Old City." The Roman effort to eradicate the early Christians lasted about 250 years. Eventually, Constantine decided to take the religion of what had become the majority of his subjects, and his mother, Helena, and he built a new church where Jesus had been crucified, where Hadrian had put a temple to Aphrodite.

This article had me yearning for the days of James Bennet with his graceful phrasing ("bouquet of microphones") and coverage that truly tackled the complexities and imperfections of this contested land. Even on his slow days we had elegiac pieces on Palestinians children flying kites in Gaza, conversations with young soldiers criss-crossing the country on bus rides home, quasi-comical renderings of almost being kidnapped by Palestinians. Sure, he had his flaws, but reporting from Jerusalem is both the best and worst assignment for any journalist. Both sides will inevitably find fault with the ways the "facts" are presented. But at least JB was entertaining.

This opinion piece in the JPost is troubling. First, the writing is sloppy and not particularly thoughtful - it is rampant with large generalized statements that are rarely backed up by authoritative tools (like quotes from professors, rabbis, Jewish professionals, you know, the people who WORK with young Jews). Secondly, it appears the author has never spoken to a birthright israel participant, otherwise he would know how meaningful the trip is to every participant, irrespective of Jewish background. For example, the author immediately assumes birthright israel is for "apathetic" young Jews.

Nothing comes easy like water from a faucet. One has to work hard to achieve something of value. When something is given away for free, you can deduce it is not worth much. To crown someone with the grand Jewish prize of coming to Israel - for being Jewishly apathetic is to tell that person: Judaism is cheap.

Actually, no the program does not cheapen the meaning of Judaism or the experience of visiting Israel with a peer group. And the trip benefits EVERYONE, not only unaffiliated Jews, but observant Jews who could otherwise not afford a trip to Israel.

His central question, "Would it not have been wiser for wealthy Jews to have invested the approximately $250 million spent on birthright thus far on building academically prestigious Jewish day-schools that go through high school?" implies that the impact of Jewish day schools is felt by all varieties of Jews within the community, but that's far from reality. In fact, Jewish day schools appeal to those already within the fold, those who have bought into Jewish education and are connected to the community. Even if Jewish schools were as competitive and academically rigorous as elite private schools, (some already are) the segment of Jews who are dissociated from the mainstream Jewish community would never send their kids to a full-time Jewish educational institution. The genius of birthright israel is that it is a short-term, no strings attached, completely free gift.....with no explicitly stated agenda.

Try getting 100,000 young adults to agree to 4 + years of a dual curriculum educational experience, and then calculate that success rate.

Writing fiction about Israel always presents issues, the most pressing being whether to mention or not to mention living with "the situation." Aaron Hamburger's essay in Zeek well demonstrates this dilemma. He talks about how in the summer of 2000 he set out to research a book about the gay community in Israel but he couldn't avoid talking about the conflict. So he ends up writing about the next most interesting phenomenon in Israel - the hordes of American tourists that populate Israel's streets year-round.

Hamburger writes:

My biggest problem, however, was that in the summer of 2000 the gay community, like everyone else in Israel, had much bigger fish to fry. A novel about gay life in Israel without mentioning the Palestinian issue would have meant writing science fiction.

So I gave up my idea of writing about Israel and became a tourist. I visited a friend staying at the Hilton while chaperoning a Singles’ Mission to Israel. I toured the City of David Archeological Park and got lost in Hezekiah’s water tunnel. I mingled with the teenagers wandering down the pedestrian mall of Ben Yehuda Street at night and overheard a young man in a backwards baseball cap express his desire for a hot Israeli girlfriend despite the fact that he didn’t speak Hebrew: “Sha-LOM! That’s all the Hebrew I need!” And one afternoon toward the end of my trip, I took a moment to sit near the Western Wall and reflect on the time and money I’d wasted. Beside me sat a middle-aged couple from America. The husband turned to his wife and asked, “So has this trip been a meaningful experience for you?”

This ties in nicely with Yehuda Amichai's poem "Tourists."

Visits of condolence is all we get from them.
They squat at the Holocaust Memorial,
They put on grave faces at the Wailing Wall
And they laugh behind heavy curtains
In their hotels.
They have their pictures taken
Together with our famous dead
At Rachel's Tomb and Herzl's Tomb
And on Ammunition Hill.
They weep over our sweet boys
And lust after our tough girls
And hang up their underwear
To dry quickly
In cool, blue bathrooms.
Once I sat on the steps by agate at David's Tower, I placed my two heavy baskets at my side. A group of tourists was standing around their guide and I became their target marker. "You see that man with the baskets? Just right of his head there's an arch from the Roman period. Just right of his head." "But he's moving, he's moving!" I said to myself: redemption will come only if their guide tells them, "You see that arch from the Roman period? It's not important: but next to it, left and down a bit, there sits a man who's bought fruit and vegetables for his family."

Perhaps Hamburger's book will speak to some of the questions that Amichai opens up and addresses so beautifully in this poem.

The Delano played host last night to uber-hip night life photographer Patrick McMullan in honor of Kiss Kiss, his super-thick tome of celeb shots doing what pretty people do best - math equations? Nope. Kissing! This being Miami, land of the kiss-hello, there was plenty of lip-smacking going on all night. And Mr. McMullan was there to capture it all. The crowd was aided in this activity by bountiful amounts of Pravda vodka, which is Russian for "truth" and "justice," or "massive hangover the next day due to the generous pours of Delano bartenders."

Celebs in attendance included Russell Simmons (sans Kimora Lee) and Ingrid Casares who manages to have the same look and maintain its fabulousness for how many years now?

This man never rests! Have a drink, take a seat by the Infiniti pool, have a shrimp skewer! Patrick, you've earned it. The need to document beautiful people doing attractive things is so great; the burden is his to bear.

See, now we're talking. It's fun getting your pic taken!

The Design District welcomed new addition Zeitgeist to neighborhood Tuesday night. Featuring German-crafted high-concept lighting, flooring, and a space-age kitchen console that literally transforms into a dining table and stovetop, this place is off the hook. Or maybe it's the copious amounts of Champagne and spaetzle talking. There were lots of Germans there, that's for sure.

At some point everyone donned comically-large 3-D glasses for a presentation about a warehouse that for some reason looked the same with and without the dorky specs. Or maybe that was the Champagne again....

Rumor has it that Esther, the artist formerly known as Madonna, will be in attendance at the Kabbalah Centre's annual Passover "Great Escape" at the Diplomat Hotel. At about $600/night (depending on which package you choose) it's a bargain for the chance to rub shoulders with Ms. Blonde Ambition at the 5,000-person communal Seder and optional pilates class. I found their description of the transformative power of Pesach really enticing:

Pesach is a 15-step procedure that unlocks the chains of this critical voice. Over the course of eight days, your actions on Pesach generate the raw energy needed to free yourself from your self-imposed prison. It means finally tasting life's true and lasting pleasures.

If that 15-step procedure invloves eating lots and lots of Kabbalah Matzah, "injected with 5,000 year-old kabbalistic meditations," then I am going to need a bag of Kabbalah prunes in order to free myself from that "self-imposed" prision. I also like how the first night's Seder is alotted about 4 hours - that sounds about right, after all, I'm sure Madge's rendition of "Dayenu" takes a good 20 min - and the second night, dinner and the seder are given a whopping hour. Guess that night they offer CliffsNotes version of self-fullfillmant via the Haggadah. Sign me up, Berg family, sign me up.

We may live in a glorified swamp, but you can still find avant-garde cuisine in Miami. Here's a few places worth checking out when you're craving a tomato popsicle or coconut milk sponge. Yummy, just like grandma used to make!

The NYTimes reports on hipster Jews and their tenuous relationship with synagogues about a year too late. That's ok, better late than only in the Jewish press. Is it still newsworthy that young Jews are looking to connect with Judaism in untraditional ways? What bugs me about these pieces is that they assume Jews want similar experiences that they get at bars/parties from their Jewish institutions. Says one oracle:

"Everything in the world nowadays is about marketing," she said. "If Judaism is really slow and boring and doesn't try to do anything to compete with the parties and the music and the movies, it's going to lose."

Mmm, no, I disagree. Judaism does not need to be re-branded or marketed. Judaism needs to be investigated. I don't expect my local Beth ____ to be the nexus of all things cool and hip. That would be apocalyptic. You don't have to bring drinks and yoga to the synagogue, leave those things where they belong - at your local bar/yoga studio. Perhaps what these young folks are looking for is to be engaged. I think more of these hipsters would be attending synagogue if the sermons were thought-provoking, if the crowds were welcoming to new people, if the memberships fees were not so high. Let's stop pretending Judaism needs to be cool, it doesn't; certain people may feel that it is and that's why they do it, others do it anyway because there are compelling aspects to it. I like the idea of "multiple entry points" to Jewish tradition, but leave the Manishewitz-tinis out of it, please.

I recommend this New York mag story on "grups," grown-ups who redefine adulthood by refusing to actually grow up. The generation gap is no more, parents are dressing cooler than their kids, and, basically, the world is coming to an end.
The casualty of all this? Good music that each generation calls its own. Writer Adam Sternbergh explicates:

Once upon a time, pop culture, and in particular pop music, followed a certain reliable pattern: People listened to bands, like the Doobie Brothers or Cream or Steely Dan, that their Frank SinatraÂ–loving parents absolutely despised. Then these people had kids, and their kids became teens, and they started listening to bands, like the Clash or Elvis Costello or Joy Division, that their Cream-loving parents absolutely despised. And, lo, the Lord looked down and saw that it was good, and on the eighth day, He created the generation gap.

And then these Clash-listening kids grew up and had kids of their own, and the next generation of kids started listening to music, like Franz Ferdinand and Interpol and Bloc Party, that you might assume their parents would absolutely despise. Except it doesnÂ’t really work that way anymore. In part, because how can their parents hate Interpol when they sound exactly like Joy Division? And in part, because how can their parents hate Bloc Party when their parents just downloaded Bloc Party and think itÂ’s awesome and totally better than the Bravery!

This, of course, is a seismic shift in intergenerational relationships. It means there is no fundamental generation gap anymore. This is unprecedented in human history. And itÂ’s kind of weird.

It's so true. Hasn't anyone noticed that Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah sound EXACTLY like the Talking Heads? Seriously, they should be embarrassed. It's perfectly fine for bands to emulate the geniuses that precededed them, and even to pay homage by covering songs or borrowing riffs, but really, sometimes while listening to CYSY I find myself waiting for "...And you may ask yourself...." and I'm all shoot! Where is David Byrne in all this madness?

Speaking of the devil! Here's Etgar Keret's op-ed in the NYTimes. He always talks about his family's relationship with marijuana which is quaint. C'mon, Etgar, we're not in middle school anymore, talking about your dad smoking pot is about as shocking as realizing your parents actually had sex in order to conceive you. But he does offer an insight into Olmert's stunningly un-dynamic approach to politics.

Listen, we've had so many Rabins and Pereses and Begins, people who tried to galvanize everyone with their charisma and energy. None of them ever really managed to bring us peace. I'm telling you, what this region needs is Olmert Â— someone who'll bore us and the Palestinians so much that we fall into a kind of stupor. A stupor that's a kind of co-existence. A co-existence that's a kind of peace. Forget all that 'peace of the courageous' stuff Barak and Arafat tried to sell us. Even a child knows that courageous people go into battle, they don't make peace. What this region needs is a peace of the tired, and Olmert's the man to put us all to sleep.

It's true - Olmert really is a yawner. The other night we caught a PBS special on him and his family. It was asurprisingly intimate look into the Olmert clan with Papa Olmert doling out fish to a long table of his scandalouslyy left-wing children and artsy wife.
But when he talks it's.......so.......stilted........and........dull.
If boring = peace then bring it on, Ehud, bring it on.

T'was an enchanting evening done up Ocean Drive style with copious amounts of well-branded liquor, abundant trays of nibblings, and each white table garnished with several fat issues of Miami's premiere lifestyle bible.

A delightful breeze cooled us while we sipped Peroni beer under the stars while rubbing elbows with almost-stars (the "Real World" cast from Key West - ahem!), while the DJ remixed Jim Morrison classics. Soon the music faded, the catwalk glowed, and cast-members of the MTV show strutted their chiseled "real" bodies while sporting Speedo's finest.

There are few items that require processing for this picture. Firstly, yes, this woman is brandishing a cartoonishly large bandage on her thumb. That's comical. ALSO, how incredibly short are those shorts? Guess I missed the Daisy Dukes memo at the nightlife gear meeting because all the gals were revealing their upper-thighs like it was a pilates convention.

And of course, no party would be complete without an appearance from the Scull sisters and son Michael. He's the one in the pink shirt in case you were wondering.

Here's recent story from Etgar Keret, one of my favorite Israeli writers. He's basically the forerunner of the cluster of young, hip, Tel-Aviv writers who are creating buzz and attaining recognition by the literary world. And it's well deserved, but you can judge for yourself. I had the privilege of interviewing Keret a few summers ago and found him absolutely engaging in person. He often does readings for groups of young Americans on free trips to Israel and they are almost always engrossed in listening to him and his stories. Probably because the stories are simultaneously accessible and indecipherable. They are super-short, oftentimes wryly funny, full of ideas, and yet inexplicably enigmatic. It's as if he is trying to capture a feeling or a moment and you don't get there until the very end. This is particularly true in his first story "Pipes" or in "Halibut" which I love for its description of the economic recession brought on by the Intifada - how life was a little fatter for those who had money to spend.

Ira Glass of This American Life fame does a great job reading and chatting with Keret about his stories. Hear it here on Nextbook.

According to Keret's website, "Wristcutters: A Love Story," a film based on his novella played at Sundance this year. I'm salivating to see it because it features Will Arnett (who played Gob on "Arrested Development and who is irresistible) and Tom Waits. And it's about the after-life. A surreal sandwich, anyone?

I will not divulge ALL my secrets at once. The Coupon Queen must maintain an air of mystery when it comes to dining deals. But check back regularly for more culinary comeuppances.

Today's deal involves a helpful website called Restaurant.com whereby gift certificates to dining establishments are offered a low price. Enter coupon code "87539" for 60% off the already reduced certificate. You can get a $25 GC for 900 Novecento for $4. Need I say more? The site also has plenty of GC's for other cities including New York City restaurants, so get clicking.

Another Miami dining deal I have enjoyed on many occasion is the "Beat the Clock" offered at 3 Lincoln Road restaurants, Le Bon, Spris, and TiramesU. From 5:30-7:30 everyday (including weekends) you pay whatever time you order. So if you're an old fogie like me and order at 5:45 you pay $5.45. And at Spris that includes a delicious Moretti beer. Brilliant.

And I just discovered Restaurant Place which lists various South Florida restaurants along with menus. While it leaves much to be desired in terms of scope (and could never compete with my beloved MenuPages) it still covers some new ground and makes dining research for Miami eateries a bit more thorough. And isn't that what we all need? To make simple decisions infinitely more complex. Yes indeed.

Stopped by the Aqua B-B-que yesterday. Lotsa pretty people hanging out in an architectural oasis. Anyone looking for a unit starting at a million five? Craig Robbins is really onto something here...

This hip TV station in London just did a "News from Iran" week including a series of picture galleries and blog posts from Iranians in the UK and elsewhere. There's also a report on the Jews of Iran, who predictably, are feeling the pull of Israel in a post-Danish cartoon world.

While you're out there doing some Persia-surfing, I'd like to wish you a happy "Noh-Rooz," or Iranian New Year. Seven foods beginning with "S" for everyone!

According to the Forward, Jews are moving to Las Vegas in droves, a trend I observed my first time there in 2003.

First off, yes it's true Vegas is Jewtown. They can't build those pristine strip malls fast enough to accommodate the influx of bagel fiending members of the Tribe. Avery's brother moved out there 4 years ago (he's a doctor, not a croupier) and since then their community has developed into a full-fledged Jewish destination. And yes, the juxtaposition of a large Jewish community developing parallel to the world's debauchery epicenter is odd, but no one said Jews are attracted to wholesome cities - has anyone ever been to Colorado Springs? You can't find decent lox anywhere! In fact, the Vegas development fits neatly into the trends of American Jews since an influx of Eastern European immigrants to Manhattan's Lower East Side in the early 1900's, namely that Jews are drawn to opportunity. Low real estate prices, plenty of entrepreneurial prospects, and the chance to promote cultural continuity are reasons that play into Jewish community development.

But you know you're not in the Borscht Belt anymore when Jewish high schools start mandatory drug testing.

In a city known for vice and excess (to get "free" drinks at any casino, simply play the penny slots until a cocktail waitress takes your order) the Jewish community is making strides to educate its youth about drugs and alcohol. Multibillionaire Sheldon Adelson — principal owner of the Las Vegas Sands Corp, which runs the Venetian Resort Hotel Casino — and his wife, drug-addiction expert Dr. Miriam Adelson, have pledged $25 million for the construction of a Jewish high school and a Jewish community center. The high school, which will be located in Summerlin as part of the already existing pre-kindergarten through eighth grade Hebrew Academy, will test students for drugs and alcohol. While the details are still being sorted out, parents would sign permission slips for high school students to submit to a hair or urine test. All grade levels will learn about the dangers of drugs and alcohol through an integrated curriculum.

That would NEVER have happend at my high school. We got high off the fumes from SAT prep books.

The NYTimes had a piece on Port Antonio, Jamaica, a lush wonderland that we visited last November. While I liked this piece, I actually recommend reading this other travel essay also published by the Times from last year. It's more fun and really captures the spirit of the place better than this recent snapshot. (This also begs the question of why the Times repeatedly does the same articles on the same topics over and over again. Gawker makes fun of them all the time for doing this, but it's really lazy journalism. If anyone was around during Christo's "Gates" project in Central Park last year, you remember - every frickin day there was a mandatory Gates article - we get the picture, orange fabric in the park. Pretty. Isn't there something going on in Darfur?)

As for Port Antonio - if you ever get the chance - go! The article says it's a more "authentic" Jamaica, and while one could argue with that, (I'd say the all-inclusive resorts are pretty authentically Jamaican as well. I believe the island pioneered the concept, brilliant beast that it is.) I do believe it is probably one of the last strongholds of laid-back tranquility in the Caribbean. It's also the wackiest place we've been (and we've both been to the Sinai, so we know what it's like to get served by stoned waiters). It rained a lot when we were there so instead of languidly lounging in the Blue Lagoon beach we drove our little rental car - driver on the right side, British-style - through the flooded mountainous street (there's maybe 3 streets in the whole Parish) dodging little kids in their various school uniforms on their way to class, and taking in the local culture because there's not much tourist infrastructure there.
Some highlights:

-Chang's "No-Fresh" convenience store.
That's the nickname we gave this rather spacious convenience store located halfway between Port Antonio and Boston Bay. Basically, the Asian guy running the store sold every possible thing that was preserved, canned, dried, pre-packaged, dehydrated, bottled, etc. Nothing fresh. Fruit? Nope. Vegetables? Uh-uh. Nuts? In a vacuum-sealed bag. This was Jamaica, my friends, land of fruit stands on every corner, men with banana clusters chillin by the beach, yet this store owner shunned all matter of comestible unpreserved. Remarkable.

-A machete is a necessary accessory.
We're not phased much by seeing weapons up close, after all we live in Miami, and we've both been to Israel where accidentally grazing a young soldiers rifle as you find your way to a seat at the shwarma shack is a commonplace occurrence. But nothing prepared us for seeing so many people carrying around large, comically exaggerated, machetes wherever we went. I guess it makes sense if you're a freelance banana salesman, but it seemed like the locals considered a machete a household essential, kind of like a can opener... Crocodile Dundee-style. So at first it's shocking, especially when you're hiking in Reich Falls and there's no one else around except for some Rastas with Machetes. But then you realize it's an accessory like anything else. Like a Bluetooth. And I find THAT more frightening.

-Port Antonio is a great place to open up a Surfshop/Pizzeria
We met a guy who was starting this restaurant our last night there. He had a great white beard, bright blue eyes, and a Native-American wife who was getting over the loss of their son by painting in the rooftop studio. We spent the night drinking warm Red Stripes because his fridge was not fully working and talking about the wonders of the Nonni fruit, a medicinal plant whose extract the Jamaicans at the table insisted cured most ailments. There was also a man who could survive for days "in the bush." It was a calm night and we had a view of the beach across the street. Port Antonio may have "potential" but frankly, they're doing just fine the way it is.

March is where it's at in Miami. Yes, December may have Art Basel and February has the boat shows but March is really the last hurrah for this city before all the snowbirds leave town, the humidity sets in, and people decide that eating al fresco is akin to "sauna dining." So before we crank up the air conditioners and retire the pashmina shawls for those chilly 70-degree nights, enjoy this month and the plethora of things to do before it's all over and we wonder where all the culture went...

First, a rundown of some of the hectic fun things we've been doing.
Saturday night we did our Wynwood Galleries walk, which was enhanced by a delicious wine tasting courtesy of Vine Wineshop in the courtyard of Locust Projects. If you get a chance, check out the show at Locust - our friend Jacin is in it with some kick-arse paintings. We enjoyed Brian Reedy's show at Dorsch Gallery, social satire in woodcuts, full of whimsy and just the right combo of cynicism and goofiness. One of those shows where you walk out chuckling and thinking. And isn't that what art should be about anyway? Someone needs to tell that to the Whitney Biennial curators but that's a whole other post.

Moving on, we experienced the magic that is Vizcaya Monday night for the launch of Norma Quintero's Social Affairs Magazine. Ok yes, the mansion and gardens are beautiful, fairy-tale like, and the stuff all Boca McMansions aspire to be, but let me just say that Lady Quintero knows how to throw a party - there were about 6 open bars (Roberto Cavalli vodka gets my seal of approval) and plenty of food stations - seared tuna tacos, delectable dumplings, mini-caviar blinis, and marinated black cod over what a waiter termed "tropical mash" are just a few of the highlights. Let's hope the magazine lives up to its grand opening....

Tonight our friend Lulu is hosting a music showcase at the Hotel Victor in an effort to revive the local live music scene. I hear the daughter of one of the Bee-Gees will be performing. Don't miss the chance to partake of live music by the offspring of Disco rock royalty. And of course Winter Music Conference starts this weekend! Can you keep up! Can you!

And don't forget Ride for the Tribe this Sunday!

The NYTimes has a piece on innovative fundraising among young folk. There's some good ideas in there I may replicate - Mustaches for Ethiopian Jews? Anyone? Anyone?

I'm relatively new to this fundraising game and my job is not really about amassing high numbers but more about getting as many young people involved in the community as possible but there's a lot that the older fundraising organizations could learn from this stuff. Some salient elements of this article include the fact that younger givers want to give collaboratively - smaller amounts that when pooled together are significant, the idea that event-based fundraiser that are NOT black-tie are big sellers, also that young donors like to know where the money is going and want to give to smaller charities where smaller gifts are noticed and appreciated.

So with that in mind, I urge you all to "Ride for the Tribe," next Sunday. It's a community bike ride in Shark Valley and all the money raised goes towards helping resettle Ethiopian Jews who are waiting to move to Israel. You can learn more about it here.

Here's a helpful list of vegetarian restaurants in NYC. Using this site combined with MenuPages transmogrifies me into a menu/location spouting culinary cyborg processing infinite dining possibilities block by block. Remember how the "Terminator's" interior view was just lists of numbers and letters - essential data - rather than seeing actual images? Sometimes that's how I feel.

I've mentioned before how I ride my trusty Citizen bike to work. There are a few things I've learned on my erratic adventure-filled mornings in the Miami urban jungle. I will share them with you now.

1. Biscayne Blvd. is a great place to shatter glass.
Got some empty beer and liquor bottles lying around? Too lazy to throw them in the recycle bin? Then come on down to Biscayne Blvd (preferably between 79th and 42nd st) and break those pesky glass bottles in the street. Yes, there's plenty of nice glass-shattering concrete available to satisfy even the drunkest crackhead on his way back from renting a motel room at the hourly rate.

2. Moms in minivans are the worst.
Enough of all this talk about minivans being so safe. Maybe for the passengers, but certainly not for your friendly neighborhood bike rider. Each time I see a minivan pull out of a parking space or try to turn onto the street I make sure to make eye-contact with the mother load otherwise you know that they are gonna heave themselves out there without looking in both directions because they are going nuts with junior in the backseat smearing chocolate all over the velvet seats and you know they wish they were driving an Audi but no they had to buy the minivan because of carpool and AND AND!!! Believe me, I know, my own mumsey owned a Ford Windstar ("Windstaah" for us Bostonians) and being a passenger was like riding in an unwieldy barrel that's been tossed down the hill in a Loony Toons cartoon.

3. Crossing Guards are the sweetest.
The nicest people. Really, take a moment to thank your crossing guard next time you see him or her.

4. The silence when the bridge goes up is sublime.
Recently when I ride across the causeway the bridge has been up and rather than get annoyed with the minimum 6-minute wait until the bridge resumes its position, I take the time to enjoy the silence of all the cars being forced to wait patiently until they can roar over the bridge's metal grilling. I catch my breath, walk my bike up to the drawn gate and look out over the sparkling Biscayne Bay. Beautiful. This is why people live in Miami. It's nice to be reminded of that sometimes...Maybe I should take a jet ski to work...

Happy Purim Everyone!
Time to get tipsy, spin some noisemakers, and remember why Persian Jews are the fiercest mo'fo's on the block. Read Roya Hakakian's thought-provoking piece about Iranian Jews "coming out" in America. My provoked thoughts soon to be divulged here...

We just spent too much time at Sabon but that's only because we love the store so much. The adorable Israelis working there are actually nice! And they encourage you to roll up your sleeves and scrub your hands in their big copper sink! Why can't the people who work at the Sabon stores in Israel proper be this nice? Well, you can always order online and get a free bottle of massage oil. I lurve the ginger-orange salt scrub. Deelish.

So we're in New York (or the Big Crapple) this weekend. And today's bad weather is to your advantage dear reader as I take some time to run down a few of the places we've been satiating ourselves. Before I get into the details I will make a confession - I am addicted to MenuPages. I kid you not, I've probably logged a good 12 hours on that site in the last week. I suppose it appeals to the academic in me - it is pure research, and it is infinite. There's also the slightly obsessive quality that I possess whereby I will immerse myself in something only to subsequently purge myself of the interest entirely. So for now, perusing NYC menus is the most interesting thing ever. This website it fantastic - there are complete menus available, tons of detailed user reviews, and basic info needed to plot a gastronomic adventure. It's also fun to read a Frank Bruni review and then go look up exactly how expensive and interesting the restaurant looks on paper.

So after all the research is said and done, where have we been eating? Well, Del Posto and Ninja and all those mega-restaurants sound nice and all, but we decided to go low-key but high style.
I finally made it out to Pastis with my friend Suze and yes it was the scene we were looking for. Lots of Heath Ledger look-alikes, but alas, no Heathage. But I certainly enjoyed my dainty "frites." Though I know Pastis is not the new hot tattooed kid on the meat-packing block, it has by now established itself as a frenzied, fun, trendy, place where the food is good and the people watching super-absorbing.

Next for dinner was Republic, the futuristic Asian communal-eating warehouse where orders are punched into a hand-held computer by a friendly but curt waiter and where the food is reliable, inexpensive, and satisfying. The green tea ice cream for dessert, though not innovative, was superb.

We're off to the Armory show (which will probably be just like Art Basel but grittier) so stay tuned for more wacky mad-cap antics!

Anya Kamenetz's Generation Debt: Why Now is a Terrible Time to be Young gets the negative treatment in Slate. Actually, the writer also pans another book that similarly complains about how hard it is for recent college graduates to simultaneously acquire wealth and maintain a bohemian lifestyle. But Kamenetz's book bears the brunt of the criticism:

Kamenetz complains that: "No employer has yet offered me a full-time job with a 401(k), a paid vacation, or any other benefits beyond the next assignment. I have a savings account but no retirement fund. I can't afford preschool fees or a mortgage anywhere near the city where I live and work." Of course, Kamenetz doesn't have kids to send to preschool. And chances are, by the time she does, she'll be able to afford preschool fees. Most people in their 20's don't realize that their incomes will rise over time (none of the people I know who have six-figure incomes today had them when they were 25), that they will marry or form a partnership with somebody else, thus increasing their income, and that they may get over having to live in the hippest possible neighborhood.

He continues with this difficult to ignore piece of bravado.

But someone like Kamenetz, who graduated from Yale in 2002, doesn't have much to kvetch about. In the press materials accompanying the book, she notes that just after she finished the first draft, her boyfriend "proposed to me on a tiny, idyllic island off the coast of Sweden." She continues: "As I write this, boxes of china and flatware, engagement gifts, sit in our living room waiting to go into storage because they just won't fit in our insanely narrow galley kitchen. We spent a whole afternoon exchanging the inevitable silver candlesticks and crystal vases, heavy artifacts of an iconic married life that still seems to have nothing to do with ours." The inevitable silver candlesticks? Too much flatware to fit in the kitchen? We should all have such problems.

Truthfully, I have yet to read Kamenetz's book but I don't plan on it (the title is such a downer). My impression of this book (and the other mentioned in the article) is that they imply that debt is an unavoidable outcome of a certain lifestyle and entering the workforce with a set of unrealistic expectations. There is no agency in that equation. I have always believed that going into debt is a personal choice and not an economic inevitability. We all make decisions about how we make and spend our money and whether it be paying off credit cards or opting to carry a balance, there is always a choice in the matter, especially when you are a healthy, well-educated, socially mobile member of society. They don't call me the "coupon queen" for nothing.

At the other end of the spectrum, there's always the anarchist lifestyle. Who knew supermarket dumpsters held such treasures?

Courtesy of my friend Adina, I found a way to generate a word cloud based on my blog.
Considering my blog is fairly young, it's nice to see a healthy usage of certain words - "art", "good," "love," "friend," "film, "read," "write." Then of course there is a plethora of Yid vocabulary - every form of the word "Jew" and "Israel" is in attendance here. As a snapshot of what I'm thinking, reading, and writing about these days, I'm quite satisfied with this. Can't wait to see how it changes!

Just finished reading this absorbing Scientology expose in Rolling Stone. Man, Tom Cruise is kuh-razy to be a part of that posse. Reading it reminded me of what a high school teacher of mine once said about religion: the less logical the faith, the stronger the pull. Hmm. Perhaps.
After you finish that 13,000 word opus, compare and contrast to Radar's 4-part series on the Kabbbalah Center and its millions. There are many disturbing things contained in these stories, but the one singularly unsettling revelation is that BOTH these articles begin with a scene in Florida involving some aspect of these mad cults. I know I've already covered this, but Florida is obviously a very attractive place for these wackos to flourish. Once again, I come to appreciate the Sunshine State, a land of loons.
Here's a list of Scientology celebs.

A friend who will be visiting Israel later this month with his family (aka Parents picking up the check) asked for my recommendation for the best restaurant in Jerusalem. I suggested Arcadia because it’s a crowd pleaser and chef Ezra Kedem has mastered the culinary style "Mediterranean Rim," using flavor palettes reminiscent of Provence or Italy and local ingredients combined in provocative ways — watermelon and Bulgarian cheese soup, grilled foie gras with figs. (By the way that watermelon-and-Bulgarian cheese combo has really taken off in Israel - it was on every platter of any public event I attended this summer.) Plus, Aracadia is located in a charming overgrown courtyard behind the produce market, and right across from a new super-cheap Ethiopian restaurant that I highly recommend.

I know many of my Jerusalemite chowhound friends would disagree with Arcadia's distinction citing many other creative, beautiful spots where your meal will set you back far fewer shekels. Upon doing some internet research I've found Daniel Rogov's list of best Jerusalem restaurants, albeit a few years old, but pretty accurate to my knowledge. I can vouch for Darna; our "business lunch" experience there was decadent and exotic, a true splurge. Friends who have dined at Fink gave it almost the exact same review as Rogov - old school charm, decent food, very European. I haven’t tried the others but there’s always next time in Jerusalem…

Free breakfast at Pasha's! All you have to do is pick a location, register, print the confirmation, and show up at the aforementioned appointment slot. Sheesh! I'm exhausted just writing about it. But of course I'm going to do it. I'll take a free "simit" pastry and tangerine juice any day.

Last night we attended the opening of Tobi's Kahn's Avodah show at the Jewish Museum in South Beach. The exhibit is great but I was distracted by the abundance of super-Jewy passed hors d'oeuvres, I mean we're talking kishka on platters, slippery little meat kreplach, chopped liver spread, mini-reubens, in addition to the usual franks in a blanket. And the Baron Herzog vino was a-flowin'. It was also surprisingly easy to get to the food, given the fact that we were the youngest people there, I figured there'd be a mad rush to get at the nosh like the Darwinian struggle for a cracker at a mega-shul in my 'hood (old people can be wily at kiddush), but this was a calm crowd. They were actually interested in the art. How quaint.

So there's this thing called "chicken sashimi" and apparently it's a delicacy in Japan. Read a New Yorker review of the stuff here.

Salon.com has an extensive article about Iranian blogs, territory I already covered in my post (do I get points for scooping Salon?). Also, Iranian youth may want freedom of speech and Western culture, but they are still frighteningly tolerant of fanatical leaders:

But young Iranians also appear to have absorbed the hard-line views of the president, even among the educated and tech-savvy Internet users. E. Haddadian Moghaddam, 32, an Iranian translator and journalist currently pursuing post-grad work in Sweden, sees merit in Ahmadinejad's suggestion that the Jewish homeland be moved to Europe, America or elsewhere. "I see his view of moving the land of Israel somewhere outside the present land as a possible solution," Moghaddam said. "As for his opinion [denying] the Holocaust, I would prefer to see it just as a personal opinion that is open to criticism.

Wow, scary stuff. But this guy is over 30. It's the under-30's that are going to save that country. At least, I hope.

Chassidic reggae superstar Matisyahu gets a not-so-positive review from Rolling Stone. We gave his new album "Youth" a listen in the car the other day and were thoroughly unimpressed. While I'm no connoisseur of chassidic reggae, I find it unexciting that all Matisyahu has to offer the world is reggae music that incorporates lyrics about Moshiach and Jerusalem. Is that so creative? Cultural production is not about appropriating established genres and tweaking them to fit one's personal identity. Whenever I listen to his stuff, I can't help but feel this is some Lubavitch guy who can rap and thinks reggae is cool. But there's nothing particularly Jewish about his art. And he's not brining anything new to the regaae discourse. Reggae music is already chock full of references to Zion, the Israelites, Jerusalem, etc.

Would Matisyahu be considered so fascinating if he put Jewish-themed lyrics to country style music? I'd be more interested in someone who looked deep into Jewish tradition and discovered music that has Jewish history ( like, say prayer chanting or cantorial styles) and gave it a contemporary spin. Like a Fischerspooner version of "Adon Olam." Put that in your I-pod and smoke it.

I have yet to watch this with sound (why do the cublicle gods deny me speakers, why!!) but watching the silent version was entertaining enough.

The French are in love with Israeli Filmmakers according to this article. That doesn't surprise me given the fact that most Israeli films these days grapple with tough issues are not dogmatically pro or anti Israeli policies or they ignore the political situation altogether focusing on intimate character studies. A lot of the critically acclaimed films that came out during the initifada (films like "Broken Wings" or "Late Marriage") were characterized by the absence of any sign of politics in the film - no radio in the background, no newspaper props, no dialogue acknowledging "the situation." So it was easy for the French to embrace these heartwrenching narratives, because they blended so seamlessly into the European movie melting pot. Cannes-festival darling Amos Gitai does approach politics but usually with a predictably left-leaning uber-critical stance. And his films are so self-consciously artsy that the French have no choice but to love him. Anyone who makes me sit through 15 minutes of Natalie Portman crying deserves the adoration of a country that still lists "philosopher" as an employment designation.

Missed the Oscars last night but instead enjoyed a lovely evening screening our movie and eating Chinese food with friends. This morning shall be spent perusing E!'s fashion police. What was Charlize Theron thinking?

My friend Eytan, the "Shagrir," had high hopes for concocting the world's largest plate of hummus. Unfortunately the mega-blizzard a few weeks ago dashed all hopes of creating positive media buzz about Israel, a place of wacky dips and the need to have large platters of said dips. His account of dealing with the Guinness record people sounds like more effort than it's worth...Maybe I'll rethink that guacamole pool I was planning out back.

If you have never read Joan Didion's essay about living, loving, and leaving New York, do so now. Then kick yourself for not having written it first. Or actually, I'll just do that.

If you sift through the clunky writing in this Haaretz interview with New Yorker editor-in-chief David Remnick you'll be amply rewarded with a view into the inner-workings of one of the most anal-retentive magazines on the planet.

Here Remnick describes how each interview subject must relent to being the asked the same questions twice if they want to be quoted by the monocle'd mag:

"When I go to interview, for example, Sheikh Naif Rajoub, one of the leaders of Hamas, I go with a translator, because I do not speak Arabic. I don't want to record too much, because that is double the work. I write pretty fast, and I know what to omit. But that's okay. Because afterward, at the office, our Arabic fact checker - a very talented Lebanese-American woman - will call Sheikh Rajoub and go over it with him, fact after fact. She will ask, 'You said that you will never recognize Israel - is that true?' And he will confirm or refute. 'Is it true that you were born in 1948?' 'Is it true that you have three children?' Every fact found in my article is checked and confirmed. As editor of the magazine, it is embarrassing to be caught with mistakes, and I hope that there will not be any, but I feel very good when I know there is someone checking up after me."

Remnick then describes the magazine's squad of fact-checkers as "about 20 young employees in their twenties, who specialize in a variety of fields and who care." I remember those fact-checkers from back when I was an intern with the magazine's covers editor. They were mostly awkward hipsters from wealthy families in New England who drank too much at the holiday party, but that, unfortunately, just made them more deadpan.

This article also brings up the question of why Haaretz English articles so often leave much to be desired in the writing department. Israel is overflowing with educated Anglo-Jews who can write and translate and who are willing to do this for very little pay. It's a shame because the Hebrew version of Haaretz is incredibly difficult to read if you're not an Israeli academic that it makes the English look like it's written by a thesaurus-happy high schooler.

New York magazine has a fascinating article on the business of blogs. There is a lot of money to be made sitting in your pajamas chompin on baby carrots and posting celebrity gossip. As it should be!

Here's a positive review of an upscale Israeli restaurant in Park Slope, land of strollers and wealthy young folk. My first reaction was: it's about friggin time. Israeli food can be so satisfying when done right - fresh ingredients, sublime grilling of everything from meat to eggplant, the intermingling of tangy and spicy tastes, the vibrant colors - pure perfection. Don't get me wrong, I know Israeli cooking is no culinary Mount Everest (when was the last time you tasted chick-pea foam?), but the food from the holy land deserves respectable surroundings, not the usual sweaty falafel shacks dotting American cities with Jewish communities. You know what I'm referring to - the mean waitresses, unkempt salad/condiment bar, the heat from the shwarma spit, and no attention to decor.

So bravo to this Miriam restaurant, though I find it interesting that they list their wines from Israel as being from "South Europe." I thought Israel was in the Middle East. Even the UN thinks so. And it doesn't really help Israel's cause to be grouped in Europe, just ask neighbor Turkey.

Charles Saatchi, the British art collector who brought Damien Hirst's animals-in-formaldehyde art and a dung-clad Virgin Mary to the Brooklyn masses 6 years ago with "Sensation," also finances a cool London syngagogue. And they just had a cholent cook-off! Perhaps they should have called it a "chamin"-off seeing as how Saatchi is a Sephardic Jew (from Bagdad, no less).

Malcom Gladwell started a blog this month too! Does this make me a maven?

The NYTimes has a fun review comparing two new hotels here in my little 'hood - the posh Asian-inspired Setai and the free-spirited Andre Balazs-owned Standard. Example of great journalism: when the reporter admits to calculating the amount of water per minute streaming through the Setai's $900/night shower - 12 gallons.

I've had the privilege of patronizing the Standard's co-ed hamam/spa courtesy of my dear friend Rachel (thanks Rache!) and it was a simultaneously wholesome and Dionysian experience. True, there were plenty of sweaty, supple (this was post-yoga class), young Miamians frolicking through the group shower rooms and steam baths, and yes there was wine and figs to be consumed while sitting on the hot marble slabs where topless women were being massaged by sarong-wearing masseuse, BUT there was also lots of talk about vegan diets, electric cars, and organic exfoliators and absolutely NO funny business to be had anywhere throughout the steamy corridors, as if everyone was trying their best to deny the sexual atmosphere.

I was actually disappointed that the hamam room was co-ed, not because I'm anti-speedo (just the opposite!), but because I think it detracts from the ancient tradition of hamam/group bathing. When I lived in Istanbul (you can read about it here), where going to the hamam is as old as kabobs, I was struck by the female bonding going on in the steambaths. It was like being in an oriental version of "Sisters," where women of all generations - tourists and locals alike - chatted, relaxed, and were scrubbed down rigorously by thick-armed Turkish women who sang
in unison as they did their work. And the most romantic aspect of the experience was knowing your mate was being scrubbed down on the other side of the marble wall and reuniting afterwards feeling refreshed, clean, and ready to take on the rest of the day. Or in the case of my man, his looking bewildered and relieved to be done with the experience he described as "not not-traumatic." I guess they don't sing on the men's side.

This weekend the South Beach Wine and Food Festival pours into Miami for a decadent three days of super-star chefs, overpriced tastings, and general culinary chaos. If you're in the mood to brave the Emeril and Rachel Ray adoring crowds, I suggest heading over the to the Wolfsonian Museum for a screening of "Decoding Ferran Adria," a look at the innovative Spanish chef and his many experimental ways of turning everyday comestibles into foam, mists, and crystallized versions of their former selves. I never knew a canister of CO2 gas was a culinary necessity. Can I get one of those at Williams Sonoma? And I thought I was hot stuff using a "soup dildo," as my friend Mitch calls it.

This just in: NYU has lots of Jews!
Apparently New York University leads the nation in the amount of Jewish students enrolled. And in "L'chaim" tattoos.

One of the perks of being a Jewish professional (aside from the lavish liquor-sponsored parties, free electronic gadgets, and daily delivery of luxury goods), is that people are constantly sending me Jewish literature to give to other young Jews. (I'm looking right at you, Shmuley Boteach.) Usually, I'll let it sit in my office until I need room for more shwag, but in the case of Guilt and Pleasure, I was more than willing to spread the love. Here's a magazine that is smart, good-looking, and often humorous. The way you wish more Jews were.

So go, dear readers, and check this out. I particularly enjoyed Mark Oppenheimer's article on the Holy Land Theme Park in Orlando, as it makes me so proud to be living in the state of Florida, a state of lunatics. And Michael Berkowitz's collection of poster art from Jerusalem's Zionist archives had me salivating because, like good Israel-nerds, we have already begun our own little collection of vintage Israeli posters.

Oh, and if any of you want the hard copy, email me your address and I'll send you one, after I finish this case of Vitamin Water cluttering my cubicle.

Another great short film on the Sundance site is Tiffany Shlain's "The Tribe," a clever history of the Jews and the creator of the Barbie doll - a Jew, who knew? The website for the film includes something called "Web Talmud," a new-fangled way of looking this internet thing. The film is also narrated by Peter Coyote who I will forever love for his portrayal of a Moshe Dayan-type in the "Hebrew Hammer" and for his dead-on Spielberg making a Yiddish version of The Merchant of Venicee in France in "Le Grand Role." I'm hoping we can coax him into doing something for our next independent low budget Jewtastic movie. Seems that he likes to be a part of those projects.

I really believe this. Even though everyday there are news reports about how crazy the new president is and how dangerous it is to be a Jew in that country or any country nearby, I really truly believe with all my heart that Iran will one day be a sane place to live and visit. A place where I can visit.

I believe this because 70% of the population of Iran is under the age of 30. They want their MTV, their internet, their i-pods, and freedom. They will make themselves heard. They are already trying to in underground blogs.

Peruse Hoder's blog, an Iranian who was kicked out of the country for his journalistic pursuits and who recently visited Israel. His photoblog I found particularly addictive, very poetic pics. Perhaps one day I'll take my own.

Love this essay by Daphne Merkin on Jewish guilt. It's a testament to Merkin's great writing that I connect with this piece given that her struggle is (by her own admission) the Ashkenazi (German-Jewish) brand of walking the religion tightrope. Being a Parsi gal myself, the tension in my house was usually a looser, louder, spicier version of being wracked by the obligation to be pious. And really, who wouldn't go nuts after having to endure 12 years of private school where the dress code mandates this:

To get a sense of the confused atmosphere, you have only to stand outside a Jewish day school like the one I went to on the Upper East Side and watch the girls emerge in clothes that are maximally revealing while being at the same time appropriately unscanty Â— an aesthetic approach most typically characterized by the long, tight denim skirts that are usually slit halfway up the back or side and look difficult to navigate without resorting to the kind of mincing steps that I imagine Chinese women with bound feet were forced to adopt.

I believe the accurate term is "denim burritos."

Here's an engaging NY Times op-ed from Joshua Foer (brother of Jonathan Safran) on the activity of kissing.
It's true what they say - research really is romantic.

Some times I ride my bike to work. This puzzles my co-workers and generally solidifies my standing as a hippie curiosity who never does anything like normal people do. But more about that later.

My story today involves my perky little bike bell. A bicycle bell, like a car horn, is meant to warn people in your line of travel to move, get out of the way, draw attention to oneself, etc. I like my bell, it's loud, got a full-bodied chime, and reminds me of an ice-cream truck. Now if only my little ding-a-ling spoke Spanish. Yep you heard me, my bike bell is understandable only to English speakers. Every time I ride on the sidewalks (which I am want to do since Miami has no bike lanes and really what suicidal person would ride on the actual street in Miami, it's like a 3-D video game with flying hubcaps and other detritus) and I see a pedestrian and give my usual 20-yard ring and then as I slowly sidle up the person's behind I ring AGAIN and still the person does not turn around or move out the way until I come to a full stop or swerve onto the grass only to be met by a startled "Que fue eso?" or, the local favorite, "Putta di madre!" The fact that this does not happen with English speakers (who DO heed the bell, and move to the side) leads me to believe that my beloved bell is not ESL friendly. Or maybe all those people are deaf.

Read this scathing review of the scandalous Vanity Fair "Hollywood" issue and decide for yourself - either Tom Ford is a marketing wiz or despressingly predictable. Or both.

We like to live on the edge here in Miami so we headed over to Wynwood for their monthly "Second Saturdays" gallery night. There's nothing like traipsing through a neighborhood in the process of gentrification to really make you feel gritty. Aided by our talented friend Jacin, who's work/studio/loft is immortalized in our film, and armed with our own stash of plastic cups, we sought out the freshest art the market has to offer.
Some highlights:
A group show of Columbia University MFA students at Frederic Snitzer's gallery, Peter Barrett's plastic sculptures at Ingalls & Associates, and Elsoca and Fabian's obsessive compulsive BIODRAWINGS made of pieces of insects at Bernice Steinbaum.
Love when artists refuse to use plain-old paint.

Living in South Florida, I am constantly surrounded by two things - the funeral industry and the gaudy-McMansion-real-estate-development industry. Well, there is one man, a genius, in fact, who has decided to combine those two worlds into one fascinating entity - a ritzy funeral home replete with marble floors, neo-classical architecture, a replica of the Western Wall, and lots and lots of beige. Read my article about it for the Forward here.

Countries I've visited and/or lived in.
I guess it doesn't count if you've visited a certain teeny-tiny country a bajillion times. Well, I still love you Holy Land, even if that means there's a lot more of this world I've yet to see.
Generate your own map here.

Though I'm no longer a Manhattanite, one my fave things to do when visiting the city is partake of some of the best ethnic food the island has to offer. To enhance this dining experience, I often bring a magnum of cheap wine. I have my own list of sweet BYOB spots, but courtesy of New York magazine, here's a list of 50 categorized by neighborhood. Watch out for the corkage fees as they can bump that bottle of Gato Negro over the $10 mark - the horror!

Weekend mornings are often spent reading approx. 16 days worth of the New York Times (it takes at LEAST two cups of coffee to get through Sunday Styles) and listening to everyone's favorite Midwestern storyteller on NPR. But not only is the breathy Garrison Keillor a magnificent weaver of tales about people from states I will never visit, the man can also write!
I thoroughly enjoyed his scathing review of Bernard Henri-Levy's rambling exploration of America, land of the freaks, in the New York Times Book Review. "A Prairie Home Companion" just gained another fan...

While perusing the Sundance website this year, where there is a short film smorgasbord, I was pleasantly surprised by this piece by Bob Odenkirk of Mr. Show fame. It's funny, witty, and employs that brand of irreverent intelligence that is so often "misunderstood" by the "general public."
A trip to the Holocaust museum will never be the same again.

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