This Normal Life: ‘H’aliya’ - Immigrating because the bread is better

‘Grasping and resistance are ultimately about the fear of death,’ the author writes. ‘If I can’t get past my attachment to a particular bakery, how will I ever deal with the truly inevitable?’

By
May 14, 2015 16:47
Israeli Bakery

Israeli Bakery . (photo credit: LAURA KELLY)

 
X

Dear Reader,
As you can imagine, more people are reading The Jerusalem Post than ever before. Nevertheless, traditional business models are no longer sustainable and high-quality publications, like ours, are being forced to look for new ways to keep going. Unlike many other news organizations, we have not put up a paywall. We want to keep our journalism open and accessible and be able to keep providing you with news and analyses from the frontlines of Israel, the Middle East and the Jewish World.

As one of our loyal readers, we ask you to be our partner.

For $5 a month you will receive access to the following:

  • A user experience almost completely free of ads
  • Access to our Premium Section
  • Content from the award-winning Jerusalem Report and our monthly magazine to learn Hebrew - Ivrit
  • A brand new ePaper featuring the daily newspaper as it appears in print in Israel

Help us grow and continue telling Israel’s story to the world.

Thank you,

Ronit Hasin-Hochman, CEO, Jerusalem Post Group
Yaakov Katz, Editor-in-Chief

UPGRADE YOUR JPOST EXPERIENCE FOR 5$ PER MONTH Show me later Don't show it again

Ever since making aliya, we’ve joked we could never leave Israel and certainly, never move out of Jerusalem…because of the halla.

All that changed two weeks ago, when the bakery that has been the source of perhaps the best kosher sweet wholewheat halla in the world closed down. After 43 years in business, the main branch of Pe’er Bakery in Jerusalem’s German Colony shut its doors.

Be the first to know - Join our Facebook page.


The reason, explains owner Shoshana Sharabi – who has been at the cash register while her husband, Moshe, has tended to the ovens all these years – is simple enough: “Dai!” she exclaims, using the Hebrew expression for “Enough already.” Moshe is turning 70; Shoshana is not far behind.

“I’m tired. I’ve been asking him to close for three years; only now has he agreed. We want to travel, see the world,” she tells me. After 43 years, who am I to take that away from this 13th-generation Jerusalemite, who wants to spend her remaining years generating experiences that don’t all have to do with the proper allotment of poppy seeds and raisins?

See the latest opinion pieces on our Opinion & Blogs Facebook page
 
 


It hasn’t always been easy for Pe’er’s proprietors either. Most recently, the Sharabis went up against the rabbinate, which temporarily revoked their kashrut license when Shoshana refused to pay. “They were sending a mashgiah [kashrut inspector] once a month for an hour; if I’m going to pay, he should come more often. He should do his job.”

The rabbinate fined Pe’er and Shoshana flirted with moving over to city councilman Rabbi Aaron Leibowitz’s Hashgaha Pratit private community kashrut organization, but it never took – and closing up shop loomed larger.



“Where will you go now?” I ask Shoshana as I wait for Moshe to pull the final hallot out of the oven. “India is on the top of the list,” she replies, and I feel the same tinge of excitement I do for young Israelis heading east after their army service.

“Do you like Indian food?” I inquire.

“We can’t actually eat anything there, we keep kosher, you know,” she scolds me. I tell her about the plethora of strictly vegetarian restaurants that are everywhere in India. Her eyes light up; despite her role in baking a very traditional Jewish food, Shoshana is – surprisingly – a recently converted vegan.

And yet, for a few days after I heard the news, I was devastated. Every Friday for nearly 20 years, I have run the pre-Shabbat errands for our family, which include buying a copy of The Jerusalem Post, stopping at Marzipan for its gooey half-baked chocolate rugelach and schmoozing with Shoshana while picking up my hallot. Every once in a while, I’d try to mix things up and get a halla from somewhere else. The kids would always put me in my place; the following week, I’d be back at Pe’er.

Halla became even more important in the last five years, when our family instituted a new Friday-night ritual. After realizing we were always full after eating just the halla, dips and chicken soup, and that no one had room for an entire meal afterward (though we’d eat it anyway and then complain), we dumped the meat, potatoes and salad and only serve soup, bread and dessert.

Before moving to Israel, getting our weekly halla was much more of a pain.

Living in Berkeley, California, in the late 1980s, there was no kosher halla nearby; we’d have to drive 20 minutes to the Grand Bakery in neighboring Oakland.

Later, when Noah’s Bagels opened its first store in Berkeley and began baking kosher halla, it was easier, but we’d still have to order in advance and there was always the possibility our bag would be given to someone else by mistake, leaving us Shabbat halla-less.

At Pe’er, the supply of braided bread on Friday seemed endless.

As I lamented a post-Pe’er-calyptic world, Jody reminded me that I’m “grasping,” one of the essential sins against mindfulness that I’d just spent so much time working on during our recent six-day silent meditation retreat (see “This Normal Life,” April 17). Much of our suffering, I know, comes from frantically trying to hold on to what’s good, or its converse: resisting the unpleasant.

Both will pass – sooner than you think; it’s the nature of the universe.

Moreover, grasping and resistance are ultimately about the fear of death. If I can’t get past my attachment to a particular bakery, how will I ever deal with the truly inevitable? Pe’er isn’t vanishing from the scene entirely. A satellite branch in Mahaneh Yehuda, run by the Sharabis’ son, is staying open, with the same recipe (for now at least). It’s not as convenient, but if we invite Shabbat guests who are regular shuk shoppers, maybe they can give us an occasional blast from the past.

“Why didn’t you offer your son the opportunity to take over the German Colony bakery?” I ask Shoshana. She has other plans for the building, which she and Moshe own. They plan to turn it into apartments for rent.

The thought of the venerable Pe’er building, where I’ve spent so many fleeting moments, becoming another luxury ghost village rattles me, but again, magia lahem – after 43 years, the Sharabis have earned it. They don’t owe us anything; it’s business. And surviving nearly half a century in a city where restaurants are lucky to last half a year is commendable.

The truth is, there are plenty of alternatives to Pe’er in the neighborhood already: a new bread shop on Emek Refaim Street and another on Bethlehem Road in Baka have opened up recently.

French patisserie Ness bakes up a doughy halla, though it’s not sweet enough for me. The Coney Island Knish shop sells a pretty tasty whole-wheat loaf. And there’s always the reliable Herby from Beit El.

Maybe I’ll even take up baking – homemade always trumps store-bought.

Clearly, we don’t have to make yerida – that is, leave Israel – just yet. 

The author is a freelance writer who helps companies, brands and organizations become their own publishers, in order to rank higher on social media and search engines.

www.bluminteractivemedia.com

Related Content

Letters
August 19, 2018
Letters to the Editor: August 20, 2018

By LETTERS TO THE EDITOR