Classic Shakshuka

Its rare to actually remember the best day of your life. Some might say their wedding or the birth of their children, but was that really the best day? Those days are full of real honest fear, stress, pressure to have perfect moments, physical and emotional tearing and the gravest of disappointments. We may have left those days with the greatest of jewels in our lives, but the day itself, start to finish, may not have been the best. 

One of the best days of my life started with a hangover on a birthright trip. As many birthright trip days do. It almost feels like disrupting the memory of this day by writing about it. We were in Jaffa, an ancient port city outside of Tel Aviv. The buildings were a sandy yellow, the air a perfect breeze and the sky to match, with a few wispy clouds over the blue sea. With each building, in my hungover mind, was a constant interruption of red. Flowers, bicycles, chairs, awnings striped like barber poles.

We all sat down in a pavilion in front of a cafe. It was eerily empty for a Wednesday. Everyone was at work and the tourists didn’t seem to be out in full force. I wanted to explore, so I rounded the corner to look at the shops and the etchings on the sides of the buildings. It was brutally hot, so I bought a fan. This fan is one of my most favorite items I own. It is a map of Tel Aviv, which throughout the day I would whip out with a flourish and use to navigate the back streets, only to then cool myself off with deep sass. When I turned around, I nearly bumped into my very tall friend, Baruch, who was eating a shakshuka wrap.

This, my friends, was a core memory. I took a bite of this red, sloppy pita and my eyebrows shot to my hairline. THIS was vegetarian?! What other countries have vegetarian mains that aren’t an afterthought or a sad collection of leaves on bread? My brain came alive in that moment, in the garden with its patina teapots and sieves hanging from the ceiling. I only realize now that the restaurant’s name was Dr. Shakshuka. I had one bite, and I have been chasing that bite ever since. 

I’ve been thinking about Israel and my time there. I will never forget the day I spent in Sderot, a town that borders Gaza. I went with a group of former Israeli soldiers who specifically were there to teach us about the conflict and Israel’s perpetration of violence. As an American, it is shameful that our greatest export is arms.. As a child I affectionately heard Israelis refer to themselves as the 51st state. Sitting with these soldiers in a tense and quiet playground as they told us about the 15 year olds who still wet the bed with trauma, I felt such sorrow and disgust. 

It is always hard to be a Jew. That is what we are told. Within this centuries-old conflict is the same story, year after year. A powerful few make decisions that lead to the deaths of the ordinary. Children saying their daily prayers on both sides, mothers scrubbing dirt stains out of fabric, fathers regretting decisions and siblings taking things a bit too far. All with tables to sit around and food that is meaningful.

If Jews are truly meant to suffer, then we are meant to never see the end of this conflict. Some generations we are the perpetrators, some we are the victims. But all of us really want the same thing, which is to sit in a garden and break bread with the people we love. When it is my time, I hope what flashes before our eyes are days like the one I had in Jaffa. A place that has been called home by thousands over thousands of years and has since taken a north African dish and made it their own. A dish that is meant to be eaten out of one pan by the whole table. 

Shakshuka translates roughly to “all mixed up.” and we definitely are.

The bread:Shakshuka was meant to be served in a frying pan and scooped up with pita or lavash. You can tuck it into a pita and make it portable, like my friend Baruch did. You can top any old piece of bread with shakshuka and it will still be delicious

Tomatoes: Use the freshest, ripest that you have. If it isn’t the season, reach for cherry tomatoes. They will blister perfectly and help give off that grilled flavor. 

Paprika: Do not skimp here. Don’t just use it for color. Some recommend using sweet Hungarian paprika but I prefer the smoked variety, especially if you are eating it with dinner. It gives it a more robust, heavier taste.

Trader Joe, you did it again. I was low on tomato sauce one time I made this and found these canned Grecian eggplants in my pantry. I will now be picking up a can of this every time I go to TJ’s for the exact occasion of making Shakshuka…and that’s how Joe gets you, with each $3 purchase at a time.