What we eat

Many of my Jewish friends ask as their first question about our new country: “What do you eat over there?” Nu, it’s worse than I thought it would be, but we will survive. Before our final decision to take the position in Armenia two years ago, we spoke with the local Chabad shliach and about a month before our departure, we were lucky enough to have met him in Washington where he was attending a conference. On both occasions, we discussed many of the Jewish issues that naturally arise in places with small, unorganized communities. In particular, we discussed in depth the four products that have to be made or processed by Jews in order to be kosher: meat, milk, cheese and wine. (Bread is another questionable product, although considerably less of an issue, since in The Gambia I was used to making my own.)

The Rabbi assured us that everything is available: He said he brings in a shochet from Russia who slaughters cows and lambs and he himself still slaughters chickens; even though bird flu is affecting all the surrounding countries, miraculously it has avoided Armenia. He said he goes to a farm where he milks cows (chalav yisrael), watches local people make yogurt and adds rennet to the milk to make cheese (gvinas yisrael). He also assured us that we could get kosher grape products.

Upon our arrival in Armenia, the Rabbi kindly hosted us for Shabbos meals and supplied us with a few items to survive on for a while. These included a wheel of local cheese, two jars of preserves, a jar of peanut butter and a bottle of barbecue sauce proudly bearing an OU symbol. I asked about the possibility of getting some milk and yogurt (which I eat daily for its beneficial acidophilus bacteria). The Rabbi surprisingly answered that it is not possible to get yogurt and that when he gets milk, it is seventy liters at a time and therefore it’s not gonna happen. When Daniel asked him about the possibility of chalav stam, the Rabbi first didn’t know what Dan was talking about. Then, after an explanation about government dairy regulations acting as an assurance for kashrut, he denied the existence of the whole idea.

Although the heter of chalav stam has been applied to many developed countries, such as the US, it is not necessarily possible everywhere. Put simply, not all countries have laws (and/or proper enforcement of them) requiring that a product labeled “milk” must necessarily contain cow’s milk or that only cows are present on a farm from where the milk comes. Lubavitch Chassidim famously reject the notion of chalav stam, requiring them to eat chalav yisrael or no milk at all. As I believe in having an open mind within halachic limits, and find it unhealthy to live without dairy products, we were forced to do our own research.

First, we talked to the local US Department of Agriculture representative, who works with several local dairy farms who told us that there is no governmental supervision over the dairy industry. Even if there were laws, he said, there would definitely be no enforcement of them. So, Armenian milk products are basically not available to us. Since in the supermarkets, we’ve seen plenty of dairy products from Russia and because of the many Jews in Russia as well, we decided to try to find a list of kosher products from Russia on the Internet. And it delivered. We now have a ten-page list that not only assures us that chalav stam is applicable to Russian milk, it also lists a bunch of yogurts and even some cheese spreads from there that are kosher.

When we came to Armenia a little over three weeks ago, we brought a cooler full of frozen ground beef and chicken breasts with us. So far, we have not been forced to ask the Rabbi to supply us with the beef that is available. Surprisingly, he said chicken is not shechted here nowadays because of the bird flu threat. I still don’t understand why a month ago he told us that chicken was available, when now it isn’t. We were able to acquaint ourselves with the local beef over our first three Shabbosos here, during which the Rabbi’s family kindly and thoughtfully hosted us. At all six meals, after a delicious appetizer course of fish and salads, we were served similar food: chunks of fatty, stringy and bony beef with either potatoes or kasha. Obviously, the Russian shochet is not much of a butcher.

We do not have our kitchen yet, so we are making the most of what we can out of the embassy-provided welcome kit. It contains several pots and pans, basic utensils, plates, mugs, glasses and plastic containers. As the welcome kit was previously used, the only option we had was to find a large rock and kasher whatever was kasherable. Of course, we did not venture out the very first day to find a large rock in this world capital. Hungry and without a kosher kli, I took the only thing available and made some instant couscous … in a glass vase. For the past month, I’ve been cooking with two pots and a spatula. I’ve kinda gotten used to it and don’t really know what I’ll do next week when my eleven large boxes of kitchenware are due to arrive.

Making couscous in a vase.

Armenia is famous for its produce especially during the summer when all the heavenly tasting fruits and vegetables arrive to the local shukaner (markets). The very first Sunday we were here, we ventured to the biggest (and as reported to us, cheapest) covered market called the “Goom” and the following Sunday we explored the second biggest market “Prospect” shuka. Everything is available there from fresh fruits and vegetables to dried fruit and nuts, meat products, bakery products, herbs, spices, eggs, flowers and fish.

The "Goom".

Fruit display at the "Prospect".

The fruit and vegetables here are unbelievable, juicy and full of real flavor that I haven’t tasted since my childhood in Czechoslovakia. We didn’t even bother asking the Rabbi for wine or grape juice for sacramental purposes. As grapes are abundant in colors and flavors to no end, I just bought the juiciest and tastiest and made my own grape juice. Yummy!

Making grape juice.

As during the winter, fruit and vegetables are expensive and sparse, canning and freezing is recommended. Not having a job, I rose to the task and froze two kilos each of strawberries, blackberries, raspberries and peaches.

Washing the peaches and cooking sugar syrup.

Adding citric acid to cut up peaches.

Final product.

I have also attempted to make dill pickles. The first batch rotted probably because it was in a plastic container (and I left it out in 40 degrees Celsius heat for two weeks). Now I am trying to make a second one; the pickles are in a glass jar and will stay on the balcony for only five days.

Making pickles.

I get fish at the shuka as well. It is not as cheap as it was in Tha Gambia, where we lived on the ocean and by definition, the local fishes aren’t saltwater fish either. We get freshwater fish from Armenia’s lakes, especially the biggest one, Lake Sevan. First, I was a bit worried about freshwater fishes as they sometimes tend to taste “muddy,” as I define their flavor. So far, we’ve only tried one type, in Armenian ishkhan, a species of trout, but once my chest freezer arrives, I look forward to sampling the other “fins and scales” options. I went to the fish market in The Gambia often enough to learn the art of filleting fish from the local fish dealers. I never actually tried it in The Gambia, but the skill has come in handy here since, when you buy the fish, you get it whole, with the skin and scales and fins and head and tail. They do degut it though. I brought the fish home and dealt with it:

Meet ishkhan.

Before …

… and after.

Yes, it has fins and scales (on the knife).

A word about a special Armenian bread called “lavash.” It is paper thin and huge and one uses it to wrap foodstuffs with it: cheese, vegetables, cooked meat, fish, whatever you want. Though it has a neutral taste like pita and is so thin you can almost see through it, it is amazingly impermeable to wetness and quite strong (more than a laffa, for instance). As this bread is only made with flour and water and has to be baked in a special oven intended solely for the baking of lavash, the local Rabbi deems it as kosher; we are so happy. Lavash lasts forever in an airtight Ziploc bag in the fridge, and when it gets a bit tough, you just sprinkle some water on it, reheat it and it is fresh again. It is also ridiculously cheap, for a kilo of lavash you pay 300 Armenian Dram, which is the equivalent of 80 cents.

Dan with lavash.

No, there are no kosher restaurants in Armenia. Just like in The Gambia, my kitchen functions as the local kosher Chinese, Indian, Italian restaurant or just a simple typical American diner. Well, not so typical. We can only eat meat on Shabbos, so our supply of meat lasts until Rosh Hashanah, when we will restock in London. During the week, we only eat vegetarian food. The vegetables here are delicious, but there aren’t many types to choose from: tomatoes, peppers, cabbage, zucchini, eggplant, carrots, onions, garlic and potatoes. That’s it. There is a variety of legumes available as well, along with rice and pasta. Everyday I cook up some sort of a combination of the above: stuffed zucchini, ratatouille with rice, bean salad or whatever combination my imagination creates. It has happened on several occasions that my darling, hungry husband, after glimpsing the food, says, “What the hell is that?” However, to my credit, he always finishes what is dished up and asks for seconds.

A mystery: Matza makes me terribly sick, so I do not eat it during Pesach (with the exception of what’s required at the Seder and a k’zayis for each Yom Tov meal). Zehu. Otherwise I’ll spend the whole of Chol HaMoed in the vicinity of a toilet. When we first came to the embassy, people from several sections started giving us boxes of matza they’d been saving for us since April when someone from the Jewish community dropped some off at the Consular Section. I’ve been eating matza for a month now, at least every other day, and I’m fine. Is it true then, that not the actual matza, but the holiday of Pesach itself embodies the infamous revenge of God on the Jew folk?