This is also to explain where June and my Substack letters went.
To say that 2/3 of our fridge is plums is not hyperbole. There are three containers of store-bought and gifted umeboshi, the sour, preserved plums sometimes with honey. We’ve got very vinegary, sweet varieties, and the red-shiso/perilla kind that imbues a magenta hue. Whatever. We’ve got preserved plums.
But all over the kitchen, on counters and on the floor to trip my husband and make opening drawers hard, are 2, 3, and 5 liter glass bottles. Still. We are in mid-July. There are empties, too, that fall down when my kids open their kid-dish drawer. As if I’m a hoarder in a moonshine factory. This was the June chore of taking green, hard plums that would otherwise kill you with their naturally-occurring cyanide, and turning them into into a lovely, year-round liqueur. To recap, what has taken over the kitchen are plums to eat, plums to not eat, but concoct into alcohol, and glass bottles.
I never would have done this back in Florida. This plum business, or ume shigoto, (梅仕事) plum work, is totally Japanese.
And it couldn’t be put off. The fruit is redolent and it must be eaten when it is ripe. It was in June, anyway, and I barely kept up. More plums also plopped from our plum tree into the dirt below or onto the street. The fruit splits. I can’t work fast enough.
It’s familiar to all of us, this need to be busy when there is work. This command to MOVE, this human need to make bread when there is wheat. This is the season of ripeness and it is intense.
Jewish literature and the Torah is all about immediacy. Hear and obey. Exit Egypt with dough that cannot rise because your lives depend on it. You ate matzah, a cracker made from the sudden crack and thrill of escaping slavery to freedom. Go when the pillar of fire moves from the camp. Be ready to drink deeply from the rock. Gather the quail. Collect your mana now, the stuff described very minimally except for a taste of coriander. Collect enough right now and then trust you will have enough for the Shabbat, the seventh day.
I’m gathering and washing and dropping clusters of rock sugar into giant glass canteens. We either wolf down or we preserve.
Having kids is also about immediacy. A lot of this past month was this, “The pink cotton candy sky! Quick, before the sun vanishes! Come look! My shirt for PE today! A Zip-lock bag for my mask to hang from the fence when I swim in the pool!” The needs are now.
Redolent fruit. Juicy fruit.
Lana, my youngest, walks around the house holding one of these green, fallen plums to her nose. “It is the best thing of all. Better than watching something on TV. It is a smell I know, like the juiciest thing. I know this smell.”
The other very Jewish activity on the list? Waiting. The sugar will break down slowly, to mingle with the pitty, hard plums as they break down over months. Six months is the minimal window. Remember? Not waiting=cyanide. I much prefer a sweet cordial.
What I am reading:
Womb of Diamonds, by Ezra Choueke
I cannot stop reading and yet, you know the feeling, I cannot have this book end. I won’t stand for it. This author is the grandson of Lucie Choueke, the subject of this biography. She was a Jewish girl in Aleppo, Syria who came to Kobe, Japan as a child-bride. If only I could speak with her. Lucie, a prominent business woman, died just seven days before turning 100, in November of 2019. It is so wicked-tenderly written. I don’t know better ways to say it.
I feel like I’ve unearthed something so important. I wish to go to Kobe, Japan, right away to tour the Choueke family home and museum and learn more about the Jewish Community in Kobe. (This city has taken in Jews seeking refuge and there must be much to see). Imagine how it was for her moving as a young girl from Syria to Japan.
Also, a poem:
A very fantastic writing student of mine brought in a fave book and in her anthology of poems was her favorite, “Miracles”, by Walt Whitman. Here it is now in all of its wonderfulness. She wanted me to read it out, so that is what I did. Twice. Each time, just before the word “miracle”, I paused and let the kids fill in the word. It was
What I am writing and making:
Jewish Food Writing! You can read my piece in AISH.com about stocking a Jewish pantry! I get sensitive about not being able to find really important ingredients in Japan—some things I make, some foods and items I dramatically pine for, just languishing and feeling jealousy when someone in America casually says, I got this amazing, spicy, Jewish such and such product for $3.00 at Trader Joe’s. All this to say, I am getting into MAKING these staples and stocking my pantry with everything I need to express the global dynamics of Jewish cuisine, and my own, as a Jew in Japan.
I am a Jewish food and culture map nerd, so I continue to EAT UP every recipe and bit of information (and it’s a lot) in Faith Kramer’s comprehensive, 52 Shabbats Cookbook, Friday Night Dinners Inspired by a Global Jewish Kitchen!
Look at this quote from The New York Times: “[Faith Kramer] explains Shabbat, kosher food and the Jewish communities around the world that inspired the recipes, many featuring the elaborate spices or spice blends that are typical of places like Ethiopia, India and Mexico.”
— THE NEW YORK TIMES
And now, an Ethiopian berbere spice blend that I made, thanks to 52 Shabbats!
This really is a book to read and cook from. It may inspire your own writing, too!
More of my conversation with Faith is to come, on the very first podcast episode!
Stay tuned!