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December 22, 2021

The Power of Sour — Pickled Pink Turnips

Once upon a time, in exotic lands far away, our grandmothers and great grandmothers fed their families according to the seasons. The rhythm of life for the Jews of the Middle East and North Africa was dictated by the calendar of the Jewish festivals and the agricultural cycle that they commemorate. Passover is known as Chag HaAviv, the festival of Spring and ripeness, celebrating the crops that have just begun to ripen. Shavuot is Chag HaKatzir, the festival of the harvest that coincides with the harvest of late Spring. Sukkot is called Chag HaAsif, the festival of gathering because it is celebrated in the fall when the crops are gathered. 

Since the early 2000’s, farm-to-table and locally sourced are popular movements in the food scene, recognized as a way to improve food quality and help local growers, as well as just better for the environment. For our grandmothers, using the produce that was locally available was just the way of life. 

My grandmother’s life revolved around her kitchen, her garden and, in lieu, of the cold, dark stone cellars of the houses in Iraq, her converted garage storeroom in Sydney’s posh suburb of Rose Bay. This room was filled with large sacks of rice, potatoes, yellow onions and garlic. There were boxes of tomatoes and dried dates. Then there were the jewel-colored jars of fruit jams. Bright orange apricot and coral peach jams, amber-colored figs and the delicate pink and garnet tones of candied quince. She would save orange peels, cutting them into long thin candies, to be served as a dessert or as a garnish on rice, along with caramelized onions and fried slivered almonds. 

Then there were the jars of pickles. Of course, there were jars of pickled cucumbers brined with kosher salt, garlic and dill. Her delicious turshi made with cauliflower, green beans, carrots, red pepper and garlic pickled in a brine of bright yellow curry, turmeric, salt and pepper, sugar and vinegar. The vegetables retain their crunch but are infused with an irresistibly deep, earthy, sweet and sour flavor. 

My grandmother (just like Rachel’s family) made jars of preserved lemon, but hers contained paprika and olive oil, giving the bright yellow lemons an ochre hue. While preserved lemon is an indispensable cooking ingredient in the Margreb kitchen, my grandmother served hers as a condiment. (Find the recipes for Nana Aziza’s turshi and Rachel’s preserved lemon at JewishJournal.com and sephardicspicegirls.com)

In the winter, when root vegetables are in season, my grandmother would make jars of em’chalala (pickled turnip).

If you’ve been to an Israeli restaurant, you’ve seen em’chalala, the pretty pink batons of brined turnip. They’re ubiquitous in the cuisine of the Middle East, adding a wonderful vinegary tangy crunch to any falafel, Sabich or shawarma laffa.

Like other pickled and fermented foods, em’chalala is also gut healthy, full of fiber and nutrients. 

Like other pickled and fermented foods, em’chalala is also gut healthy, full of fiber and nutrients. 

It’s a good thing that they’re simple to make because my kids will finish a big jar in one day. 

Rachel and I hope you’ll try your hand at brining some turnips. 

— Sharon

Pickled Turnips

2 pounds small white turnips, peeled
and cut into 1/4 inch thick batons
1 cup water
2 cups apple cider vinegar
2 tablespoons sugar
3 tablespoons kosher salt
2 teaspoons mustard seeds
1 medium beet, peeled and cut into
thin slices

  • Place turnip batons in a large bowl.
  • In a medium sauce pan over medium heat, bring the water, vinegar, sugar, salt and mustard seeds to a boil.
  • Reduce the heat to low and simmer until the sugar and salt dissolve, 3-5 minutes.
  • Pour the liquid over the turnips and let sit for 20 minutes.
  • Tightly pack the turnips into jars and add beets into the jars.
  • Carefully pour the brine into the jars to the top.
  • Tightly seal each jar and refrigerate.
  • Pickles are ready to eat after 3 days and will last in the refrigerator for two months.

Rachel Sheff and Sharon Gomperts have been friends since high school. They love cooking and sharing recipes. They have collaborated on Sephardic Educational Center projects and community cooking classes. Follow them on Instagram @sephardicspicegirls and on Facebook at Sephardic Spice SEC Food. Website: sephardicspicegirls.com/full-recipes

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Why American Jews Struggle with Israel

Alongside the missile fire from Hamas and the rise of antisemitic attacks, a certain question has been pressing among the American Jewish community: What is our relationship to Israel? It seems like a simple question. Yet, as a community, we have been unable to give a consistent answer. This question stirs in us heaps of insecurities, pursed lips, and deep sighs: interesting question, we say, it’s nuanced and complex. It’s a long conversation. Ask me another day, when I’m bright-eyed and my coffee is full. And here is our predicament: we feel our opinion on Israel is valid and sound only if we know every fact—which, of course, is impossible. So we twist uncomfortably, putting our hands up in defeat, and say we don’t feel adequate to respond to the question. 

I was there. I’m an American Jew: I grew up to believe we love Israel because it is democratic, innovative, and performs countless humanitarian acts; in short, because it does good. Oh, and of course because it happens to be our homeland (given by God to the Jewish people in the Torah).

I loved Israel, and I was proud singing Israeli songs and knowing Israel did good by helping other countries and people in need. So why then, in high school, when confronted with claims of illegal occupation and settlements, stealing water and ethnic cleansing, did I freeze? Why did I not know how to respond, and worse yet, why was a part of me worried the claims might be true? I scrambled to prove them wrong, worried that I hadn’t been taught the truth. 

After conversing with many proud Russian, French and other non-American-born Jews, I recognized the origin of this cultural uneasiness in relation to Israel. This phenomenon of needing to know every facet of Israel-related conversations to confirm its good standing was not a view I alone had: it was common among American Jews. 

At the root of trepidation about Israel is not a lack of knowledge; it is our uniquely American mindset—a phenomenon I dub the “is” vs. “does” problem. Most American Jews view Israel through the lens of what it does, whereas the rest of the world views Israel through the lens of what it is. This may sound like a minor difference, but the “does” mindset has a major flaw: if our view of Israel is based on what Israel does, because governments and their actions change often we will perpetually be uncomfortable defining our relationship to Israel. We will still squirm at the question.

The mainstream American Jewish perspective on Israel is so rooted in what Israel does…that it distracts from why we care about Israel in the first place—for what Israel is.

The mainstream American Jewish perspective on Israel is so rooted in what Israel does (as we view Israel as an emblem of democracy and western values or, as Daniel Gordis puts it, a “little America” in the Middle East) that it distracts from why we care about Israel in the first place—for what Israel is. We wouldn’t have this ceaseless discourse if Israel weren’t something of innate importance to us. We logically know this. Israel is our homeland. The sky is blue. But the mental gap lies not in the logical understanding of our innate connection to our origin, but the visceral one.

The world does not hate Israel for what it does—the world hates (or loves) Israel because of what it is— because it symbolizes Jews.

While we struggle to understand our relationship to our homeland, the rest of the world understands it intrinsically. To the rest of the world, Jews are Judean—“Jew” equals Israel. They know we are from there. They shouted “Go back to Palestine” at the old Jewish man on a bus in Minsk (Palestine was the common name for Israel before 1948)—because they knew he was a foreigner in Russian lands. American Jews have fortunately not experienced the pervasive antisemitism experienced by Russian Jews, so we don’t connect the dots. The world does not hate Israel for what it does—the world hates (or loves) Israel because of what it is— because it symbolizes Jews. 

If we see the world through the lens of “Israel is X because it does Y,” we will see Israel as merely a political entity and will be blind-sighted from the hate that comes not from a desire for political change, but from a deep-rooted hate for what Israel is—no matter the policy. The American Jewish lens fails to perceive that slander about Israel is slander about us, that the enraged fists proclaiming today that Israel murders children are echoing the same bloodthirsty fists that proclaimed Jews murdered children to use their blood for Passover matzah beginning in the twelfth century and the same fists in the Soviet Union who arrested and accused Jewish doctors of murdering their patients centuries later. 

When we see the world through the “is” lens, we will understand that the world views Israel and Jews as one and the same. When we see cartoons of dead children near an Israeli soldier identified by a Jewish star drenched in blood, or a cartoon depicting Israel as a Jewish-star-labeled spider stretching its hands to control the whole Middle East—we understand this cannot be mended by changing Israeli policy. It is hate against what Israel is. 

Once we understand that much of the hate against our homeland is not rooted in political reasons but in intrinsic ones, we can stop frantically worrying about whether the latest claim we hear is true; we can stop searching for facts on every alleged misdeed and stop fearing we have been taught a lie. Our connection to Israel lies not in its series of humanitarian acts, its democratic government, or its acclaimed diversity, though lofty accomplishments they may be, but in its intrinsic existence in us. We are Israel—the history, people and the land—and the rest of the world knows it quite well. To them, Israel is, and has always been, synonymous with us. 

And whatever love or hate they express toward Israel is merely a way of expressing their love or hate for a part of us. And no amount of policy, whatever Israel does, can ever change that.

I may disagree with what the government does in countless ways, but I have unconditional love for what Israel is—a part of me, even if my body resides halfway across the globe.

Regardless of our political affiliations or our views on current Israeli policies, we American Jews ought to come together to break the trend of pursed lips, shifting chairs or short sighs to understand and declare: I am Israel, even if not physically there. I defend its existence the way I defend my family, for it is a part of me. I may disagree with what the government does in countless ways, but I have unconditional love for what Israel is—a part of me, even if my body resides halfway across the globe.


Jennifer Karlan is a gap year student, Harvard class of 2026 and a Club Z alum.

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Los Angeles Needs Batman…And Another District Attorney

Last week, I wrote about my various anxieties related to the worrisome uptick in crime in Los Angeles. Recently, I’ve begun to feel that I live in an unpredictable and chaotic Gotham City, and Batman — the one person tasked with keeping everyone safe — has moved to Florida. 

Like Gotham City, we have our own villains, too. Ask many Angelenos about crime today and they’ll put the blame squarely on one man: District Attorney George Gascón. Between his zero-bail policy, his office’s refusal to prosecute certain crimes and reduced sentences on crimes related to hate, guns and gangs, he has enraged many families of victims, judges and members of law enforcement. It’s no wonder there’s another recall effort to remove Gascón from office, spearheaded by families of crime victims. Last week, Lili Bosse, the Vice Mayor of Beverly Hills and a Democrat, announced she would sign the recall petition. Last March, in an unprecedented move, the Beverly Hills City Council passed a resolution of a vote of no confidence in the D.A.

What does Washington have to say about crime? From smash-and-grab robberies to break-ins at homes and businesses, the White House has repeatedly claimed that rising crime is a result of the pandemic. But try telling that to the average person who’s been robbed this year, including my father. In early June, he left his apartment in the Pico-Robertson area, car keys in hand, only to find his van missing. I spent the rest of the day helping him ensure a police report would be filed (and applying for full insurance coverage). He was devastated. 

Through the generosity of friends, my father was able to secure a second [used] van. Two weeks after his first van was stolen, he stepped outside and found the second one gone. That was one of the most stressful days of his life (and mine). 

When the Los Angeles Police Department finally located both vans later that month, there was scarce consolation for us; the vans were gutted and abandoned somewhere downtown. Both were missing catalytic convertors, batteries, and other parts. On top of it all, the city slapped us with a huge fine for leaving the vans in an impound lot for too long (we didn’t even know they had been located for days after). 

You know one of the worst things about having your van stolen not once, but twice, within a matter of weeks? Well-intentioned, overly progressive people who hear your terrible story, but who try to explain that your vehicle was stolen, gutted, and abandoned because folks out there are simply “desperate.” Where I come from (Iran), a desperate person steals a loaf of bread for his family, not a catalytic converter containing scraps of platinum. I imagine anyone who blames “desperate” thieves also voted for Gascón.

In my Pico-Robertson neighborhood, the sound of police helicopters lulls me to sleep several times a week. And that’s saying nothing of my handy Citizen app, which has only exacerbated my misery with constant notifications such as “Man wielding machete 900 feet away.” I really need to delete that app. 

Is Los Angeles safe, or isn’t it? In a statement, Los Angeles Police Chief Michel Moore said robberies have increased by 12.7 percent this year compared to 2019. Statistics for two weeks prior showed the highest number of robberies for the entire year (about 200 reported, most of which were street robberies). Homicides in L.A. have increased by roughly 50 percent; violent crimes are up by 6.3 percent. 

Interestingly, the upsurge in crime presents a unique problem for cities like Beverly Hills, Bel-Air and Pacific Palisades, which have overwhelmingly Democratic voter turnout — people who voted for many policies that are now failing them — as they find their homes and businesses the target of armed robberies. There’s also the problem of these cities’ important public image. Beverly Hills officials, in particular, know that they can’t even take a small chance that the famous city would be associated with lack of safety. 

In his first week on the job, Beverly Hills Police Department Chief Mark Stainbrook was already handling the horrible murder of philanthropist Jacqueline Avant. It’s not often that you see a Beverly Hills official on Fox News, but there he was on December 7, blasting California legislation that he claimed puts criminals right back on the street like a revolving door:

“We’re catching the criminals. The problem is we’re catching them over and over again, and they’re being released very quickly without bail, and they’re not staying in prison, so we just continue to deal with the same people again and again.”
– Mark Stainbrook, Beverly Hills Police Department Chief

“That’s the thing,” he said on Fox News, “we’re catching the criminals. The problem is we’re catching them over and over again, and they’re being released very quickly without bail, and they’re not staying in prison, so we just continue to deal with the same people again and again.”

When asked why there’s been such a stark rise in crime, Stainbrook said: 

“This is a confluence of about ten years of laws and policy making starting with Prop 47, then AB 109, then Prop 57, which essentially decriminalized many of the crimes in California. They also allowed more prisoners to be released back into California streets. And then, with bail reform, exasperated by COVID, you have more criminals on the streets. And essentially, the California voters were sold this bill of goods that these laws would reduce the criminal population in jails, but the money that was saved would be used for job placement, drug and alcohol treatment, mental illness, housing, those sorts of things. And we just haven’t seen those services on the back end to reduce crime.”

Stainbrook acknowledged that areas such as Beverly Hills and Pacific Palisades have been “historically safe neighborhoods,” but reflected that on his second day as police chief, “we arrested three robbery suspects, we recovered three guns, at least one of those individuals, because he was a juvenile, was immediately released and back on the streets.” Stainbrook concluded his thoughts by reiterating that the pandemic is only part of the problem:

“I don’t blame it on any one thing,” he said. “It’s a confluence of a lot of things. Some lawmaking that wasn’t really thought out, some policies and things we could get better. What we’re asking for…my cops, like I said, I love them, they’re making the right arrests…again and again… so, we just need some help from the public and politicians to change some laws here and policies.” 

What will it take for L.A. to become safer? For Beverly Hills, it took the murder of Jacqueline Avant and thieves targeting iconic stores on Rodeo Drive. Californians voted for legislation that offered a utopian promise of more safety. Ironically, I fear that now, more people will find a means of self-defense, including yes, obtaining guns and other weapons. I spoke with one small business owner in Westwood who told me, “I’m making preparations to get a gun.”

In spite of everything, I still deeply love Los Angeles, even if it’s morphing into the City of Angels…and Demons. 

In spite of everything, I still deeply love Los Angeles, even if it’s morphing into the City of Angels…and Demons.

But I’m also taking some precautions. Recently, I bought my father a taser, on one condition: That he not accidentally use it against my mother. We’ll see how that works out. 


Tabby Refael is a Los Angeles-based writer, speaker, and civic action activist. Follow her on Twitter @RefaelTabby

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