My paternal grandfather, growing up in 1920s Brooklyn, had 11 brothers. Setting aside issues of bedroom management, meal logistics, domestic scuffles, etc., the sheer fact of having an entire basketball team’s worth of siblings, all of them of the same gender, sounds completely overwhelming. Not so for the 10 brothers behind this Israeli onion-flavored snack, who appear to have put their combined energies to good use, producing small ribbons of fried, cracker-y matter that taste a bit like burnt Funyons. This is much more pleasant than it sounds; these things are potent but not greasy (shades of the center region of a nice bialy) and don’t need a coating of flavor dust to convey a strong, toothsome taste. The bag, on the other hand, is a complete conundrum. Written mostly in Hebrew, with some hovering onions and a ticking clock (to indicate the bag’s ‘fast food’ properties?), the whole thing seems a tad mysterious. Is the name a reference to Joseph’s 10 brothers, who threw him in a pit out of jealousy over his many-colored coat, or are there actually ten strapping young lads behind this product? The internet provides no clues; this may be the first foreign snack I’ve consumed about which I can find absolutely zero information whatsoever. Procured from Holyland Market in the East Village, which is notable for its total focus on Israeli products and high variety and volume. Also purchased on this trip: some jarred amba (a useful sandwich condiment), a bag of fluffy fresh pitas, delicious baked bureks and a box of whole wheat matzos. A future post will cover my attempts to perfect, and expand upon, the ancient institution that is matzo brei.
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The coded language of snacks, sandwiches and seasonings, in NYC and beyond.
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