“Taste this,” my American friend said as I sat down to chat in the kibbutz dining hall. I dutifully took a forkful of the yellow gelatin and fruit stuff on her plate. “Why did you do this to me?” I squealed as I frantically looked for a way to spit it out. This was my first – and last – experience of Israeli gelatin. It was vomiticious: heavy, sticky and way too sweet. It was nothing like the clean, light silkiness of real Jello.
Ah, Jello. I’ve always loved it. Sadly, it isn’t kosher. I’ve never seen it in Israel, not even in the chain of stores that specializes in treif. In my decades in this country I have actually dreamed about it – parfait glasses filled with beautiful, jewel-like colors. But I thought it would remain just that, a dream of home.
Then one day my sister, who’s an artist with birthday cakes, mentioned she was doing one decorated with a blue Jello swimming pool, causing me to wax lyrical on the gelatin of my dreams. Taking pity on me, she shipped me a crateful of the precious packages. Now I’m in Jello Heaven. It’s just as good as I remember. More miraculous still is the blue Jello. There was nothing like that back in my day. The color is simply delightful.
While I’ve dressed it up for the picture here by topping it with vanilla yogurt and chocolate pastilles, I really like it best plain. It’s a simple pleasure perhaps, but a fruity and flavorful one. And one the rabbi doesn’t need to know about. Next time: the glories of tapioca.
Ah, Jello. I’ve always loved it. Sadly, it isn’t kosher. I’ve never seen it in Israel, not even in the chain of stores that specializes in treif. In my decades in this country I have actually dreamed about it – parfait glasses filled with beautiful, jewel-like colors. But I thought it would remain just that, a dream of home.
Then one day my sister, who’s an artist with birthday cakes, mentioned she was doing one decorated with a blue Jello swimming pool, causing me to wax lyrical on the gelatin of my dreams. Taking pity on me, she shipped me a crateful of the precious packages. Now I’m in Jello Heaven. It’s just as good as I remember. More miraculous still is the blue Jello. There was nothing like that back in my day. The color is simply delightful.
While I’ve dressed it up for the picture here by topping it with vanilla yogurt and chocolate pastilles, I really like it best plain. It’s a simple pleasure perhaps, but a fruity and flavorful one. And one the rabbi doesn’t need to know about. Next time: the glories of tapioca.
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