This is what Israelis eat for breakfast: you take a cucumber and a tomato and chop them into itsy bitsy pieces, such that they can be swallowed without any meaningful intervention of teeth, and douse them with olive oil and lemon juice. Then you plop some cottage cheese on top or something called white cheese which looks and tastes exactly like the technically non-toxic white paste they made you use in kindergarten for your artwork. Coincidently, this is also what many eat for dinner. Just the thought of facing that in the mornings is enough to turn me and, I think most of my fellow Americans, green – and I don’t mean that in a good way.
Luckily, today there is no lack of granola and Count Chocula to keep me from aggravated nausea. But back in the early days of the state, everyone was poor and food was not so easy to come by. You pretty much ate what you could grow, namely cucumbers, tomatoes and eggplants, or what you could coax from a cow. As often happens, necessity has become tradition, hence the centrality of dairy products to the Israeli diet. And since this is Israel, you’re expected to pay through the nose for them. So imagine my surprise when I woke up one morning to the Cottage Cheese Rebellion.
It seems the price of humble “cottage,” as it’s called, has doubled recently – I wouldn’t know because I thought it was way overpriced long before this and refused to buy it – and one righteous guy has had enough. He has organized a boycott on Facebook that has become wildly popular. Now suddenly the media are discovering that we pay twice as much as other countries for all kinds of stuff. It’s looking like the beginnings of a consumer revolution and it’s coming none too soon.
Even the Knesset is getting into the act, responding in true political style with emergency rhetoric. They’re threatening to legislate this, control that, while desperately looking for something more to tax. But even they have not proved totally useless: our Knesset has taken great pains to publish a recipe for making cottage cheese at home. I knew they’d come to the rescue. Now, where did I put my cheesecloth?
