Beware the Halvah Witch!
The first time I went to the Levinsky market, I was doing a walk through Florentine, currently the most “up and coming” area in Tel Aviv. The Shuk Levinsky is located in the eastern end of the neighbourhood on, unsurprisingly, Levinsky street. It is not a covered pedestrian market like Carmel, rather it is a few blocks, intensely crammed with small stores selling all kinds of spices, olives, coffees, dried fruits, nuts and other delicious things. Yes, and halvah. I’ll get to that.
The area was first settled by Greek Jews, followed by immigrants from Iraq. Persia, and the Balkans, so the original focus was on selling ingredients for those cuisines. Today you can get pretty much any spice/ingredient you might need, if you can read Hebrew and decipher what is what.
The first time I strolled through, I could not even begin to choose from among the bewildering array of stores, many of which seemed to sell the same things. Who was who, and which should I choose?
This time, I went with Gili, one of my delightful Hebrew teachers, who promised we would go to all the best places.
We started with the only place I actually did know, and which I have mentioned in an earlier post; 41 Levinsky, the kiosk that specializes in traditional Tel Aviv “gazoz”, sparkling water enlivened with all-organic fresh fruits, syrups, fresh herbs. Each one, custom made, almost too pretty to drink, and delicious. Even Gili was impressed.
Then to a little deli, fronted by a wide selection of olives, but actually specializing in such un-Israeli specialties as corned beef (!) and other cured meats. (The Balkan influence at work.) Of course I had to buy something. It’s what I do. According to Mike, the corned beef was excellent. So were the olives.
From there, we went to get white coffee ( ground coffee from beans that have only been very lightly roasted). I had never even heard of this before, but Gili’s husband, upon hearing she would be in Shuk Levinsky, told her not to even think about coming home without it! I went back to get some…just to try it. On balance I’d have to say that it is an acquired taste. (And I have not acquired it.)
Then to the halvah store! A clean, open, inviting store entirely devoted to halvah in every conceivable flavour…at least 20 different kinds. A little old lady stood, unsmiling, behind the counter in a little knitted cap. I asked for a small slice each of chocolate and vanilla. Her knife hovered over the large loaf-like chocolate slab of halvah…”less”, I said, and her knife edged along …”no even less”,… the knife hovered, not moving much,…”please less”. She gave me a look, and carved off exactly the big slice she wanted to cut the first time. And it was BIG. The same process was repeated for the vanilla. When we walked out of the store, I was the somewhat abashed owner of a kilo and a quarter of halvah! To put that in context, that is almost three pounds…or more to the point, around 6,000 (!) calories of trouble. (Yikes.)
What to do? The polite Canadian in me of course paid up and left the store, scheming all the while as to how to save what is left of my waistline. It did not take me long to decide that surely all those gorgeous (and slim!) young teachers at the Ulpan could help me out. And I was not disappointed. They rose magnificently to the occasion…and a good quarter of it vanished in a satisfactorily short time. They pronounced it a very high quality halvah, very delicious. It was a relief to know that it met their high standards.
This, by the way, is not the first time I have been snookered into buying more of something than I want, or something that I do not really need. You may remember the “boots incident”. But usually I am charmed into the purchase, so I don’t really mind. This time there was no charm involved at all. Just steely-eyed determination.
So how much halvah can one person (or even two) eat? Not that much! We surrendered on the weekend, and on Monday I personally delivered the rest to the Ulpan, where I am hopeful that I will never see it again.
