This week marks International Composting Awareness Week, a week meant to be celebrated in Canada and the US, but which as far as I’m concerned should be truly global in scope.  

Though I’ve been in transit on the West Coast, I’ve commemorated the week by throwing my food scraps in the city issued scrap bins that sit in the kitchens of San Francisco, Berkeley and Oakland residents–which are then emptied into the green bins pictured above.  

I’ve sifted through the newly harvested top soil from a compost of an Oakland Homesteader, and I’ve pined for such composting solutions in New York and the Middle East.

During my time in Israel I was constantly searching for simple composting solutions and was finding that it was very hard without land in Tel Aviv.  

Friends with land in Jerusalem managed great compost heaps, most notably fellow Green Prophet, James.  The best I could do was put those who were seeking compost bins or heaps in touch with those who maintained them.  I was a matchmaker of sorts.

The Middle East needs an awareness week to consider its solid waste management options, to develop some new ideas.  

While California’s Bay Area is ahead of the game, there are composting solutions sprouting up in other cities, like in North Brooklyn where a compost project developed to provide private composting services to residents, which will then sell the compost to city gardeners.  

What new ideas will sprout from Tel Aviv and Dubai?

The post "The Compost Guy" on Compost Awareness Week appeared first on Green Prophet.

I grew up in Somerset County, NJ and had been recycling there since the plant opened in 1992. I took it for granted most of my life that I could recycle, and it took moving to Tel Aviv to make me realize how relatively progressive recycling has been in the past 20 years—and how behind the Middle East is on this front. (Although GP recently reported about Israel’s first municipal reuse center).

I’ve been in New Jersey for the past few weeks awaiting the birth of my future nephew/niece, so I signed up for a tour of where I have sent my recyclables as an adolescent, to see just how one small county does it. Overlooking the plant from a management window I spoke with Melissa Harvey, the Recycling Coordinator of the plant. “You can see that Shoprite or Pathmark had a sale on Tide,” she said as she pointed to the red laundry detergent containers standing out amidst the heap. She also knew what the most popular products are in Somerset County just from looking at what is, essentially, a daily graph of consumer spending habits.

Coca Cola is the most popular soda beverage. The most popular water? “Poland Spring, without a doubt,” Melissa laughed. The possibilities for analyzing how our society consumes are endless, it seems, looking at this ultra fascinating waste stream.

I kept on asking Melissa for insight into our consumer patterns and our society, and she wasn’t really used to responding to such broad questions. It does pain her to see how much waste we have, and it pains her even more to throw kitty litter buckets and plastic bags away because their facility cannot hold them. She got into this for the social good it does in this world, though she does not appear to be the typical environmentalist, which is probably for the best given the limits these recycling centers have.

Most amazing was seeing the unending stream of products entering the large garages. It made me feel small. As much as I fill my water bottle with tap water or compost or reuse my glass jars, I am just one person who has hardly made any difference on Somerset County’s waste build-up.

What I was most interested in learning was where everything went. The industry lingo is in terms of “markets.” Melissa explained the markets for the #1 and #2 plastics, cardboard and paper, glass, aluminum and bi-metal cans. The cardboard and paper are purchased by Chinese companies. So much of our products are shipped in those boxes from China, that we just send it back to them to reprocess and convert it back into cardboard shipping material. Cardboard has many lives. #1 plastics from Somerset County—mainly soda bottles—are sold to a supplier for Eastern Mountain Sports, making the very fleece I was wearing on my tour. Thus soda bottles have 2 lives, although an EMS fleece is usually a good quality fleece, makng the plastic’s second life a good one.

#2 plastics have a more interesting use: replacement for wood. All the vinyl siding in the suburbs and new plastic boardwalks on the Jersey shore are made with recycled #2 plastics. Even decks are being built with the stuff. Melissa listed off a few companies who specialize in this field, as well as various industries using the recycled by-product of the 2s. “Are they used for train tracks?” I asked her. “Even train tracks,” she affirmed. My mind went running with excitement as I contemplated California’s proposed train route between San Francisco and Los Angeles. Could it be that California will use #2 plastics instead of wood? Melissa was pretty sure that they would.

Glass was a disappointment. I tend to prefer glass because it is most reusable (you can never have too many jars), though I’ve always been a bit disappointed at how heavy it is and how problematic it is for shipping weights. Recently the New York Times ran an opinion piece lambasting the wine industry for shipping cheap wine in glass bottles across the world—for table wine, the writer argued, vineyards should adopt the boxed wine approach. I agreed. The process for glass involves sorting the broken glass from the full bottles, then smashing the full ones so it’s all broken. Then it all goes through a machine to further crush the glass back into its original sand form, though a bit larger and still glassy. Ever wonder what those huge cones of “sand” on the side of highways in New Jersey are? I did too. They house crushed recycled glass.

“Are companies buying these shards to melt down and make new glass bottles?” I asked Melissa. How Naïve of me. The shards are mixed with asphalt and used for roads. “Kids love when I tell them that the sparkles in asphalt are glass,” Melissa joked. She spoke about giving tours to kids a lot which made me feel as if not many adults show as much of an interest in our waste streams, which is unfortunate. I guess road building is useful, but I was hoping that the glass would be recycled into new glass.  That’s apparently what happens with aluminum cans. Within six months of processing them they are usually purchased by Anheuser-Busch, made into new cans, and filled with cheap beer.

Melissa stressed a few points that would make her job easier: for those who live in areas that don’t recycle all plastics, always unscrew your soda tops and toss the tops in the garbage, because that’s just what the workers end up doing at the recycling center, with a kind of distain. Also, don’t expect plastic bags to get recycled. Many people apparently wrap their recyclables in plastic bags. Unfortunately those bags make it difficult for the laborers. It also costs too much money to bring those bags to a facility that does recycle them, so they make their way to the landfill. Somerset County spends half a million dollars to dump residents’ bags for them, when supermarkets in New Jersey must recycle the bags for you.

The center is feeling the economic decline. It’s in the red now. Suddenly aluminum, its best seller overall, is only going at a low price. The bids from companies are shrinking, and Melissa estimates that it will take at least 18 months to get on solid footing again. Today New Jersey has a 54% recycling participation rate with the hopes of moving to 60%. Somerset County has a 56% rate, just above the average. There are goals and plans for the future that—ironically—will rely on a more wasteful economy to get started up again.

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I went to see Scott Hamilton Kennedy’s documentary film, “The Garden,” at Tribeca Cinemas in Manhattan, part of docs on the shortlist for the Gucci Tribeca Documentary Fund. I went with a group of farmers living in New York, some of whom work on urban farming projects in and around the City.

The film tells the tragic story of the largest community garden in the United States in South Central Los Angeles.  The garden, a full-fledged 14 acre farm in a blighted neighborhood, was created in response to the LA riots in an effort to heal the city. Lower income residents tended the garden. As the demographics of the area changed, more Latin Americans moved to the area and soon made up a majority of the farmers. 

The film shows stunning images of corn and tomatoes growing amidst and industrial backdrop.  In fact, the viewer sees countless helicopter images of this impressive green square in the middle of Los Angeles sprawl, demonstrating the stark contrast between sunflowers and concrete, verdancy and the pallor of urban industry. The importance of the garden to many of the gardeners is most inspiring, as many relied on the garden to feed their families and had been looking for empowering work to do in the city that would allow them to feed their families hearty and healthy meals.

The story, however, takes a dreadful turn as we see the end result of a failure of government.  Without notice the farmers arrive one day to see a letter of eviction, signed by a developer whose name the farmers did not recognize.  The mostly immigrant farmers were left asking, who is this developer, and isn’t this government land?

The city of Los Angeles failed to notify these farmers that the garden operated on a continually renewed thirty day lease, and that through illegal backroom deals they sold the land on which the garden was farmed back to its original owner (who had his land taken through eminent domain in the early 1990s).  In short, Kennedy shows just how petty interests and government corruption can squash the dream of a community garden.

The impressively shot and cut film weaves together many different narratives, using the overarching demise of the garden as the film’s core. One powerful thread in the documentary deals with how a seemingly powerless immigrant group can rise to the occasion and develop political might, as these farmers managed to do on a grassroots level.  They had no experience in this arena and managed to fight the government with injunctions and lawsuits, one of which is still pending today.  During a point of hope these impoverished gardeners raised millions of dollars to keep their dream alive.  Another narrative focuses on the interesting dynamics among the farmers, competing power and in fighting as they coalesced to save their dream.

One of the many questions that the film raises is what is the best use for land that will serve and help the most people?  City advocates were fighting to tear down the garden and replace it with a soccer field, as well as warehouse which would supply jobs.  We find out later that the soccer field plan was a ruse to profit off the land sale. 

Perhaps the hardest moment of the film is the decimation of the crops. Bulldozers uproot over ten years of farming while police officers hold back protestors and bystanders who are screaming and crying.  Helicopter shots reinforce how much darker the city looks without the 14 acres of green. 

For all those who share the dream to see green space in our cities and all peoples farming, I highly recommend this powerful movie.  Although in some ways it’s a frustrating story to any activist and environmentalist, this story should be seen as a motivating force and not a cautionary tale. I also think many themes, such as the integrity of land ownership, as well as communal agriculture,  parallel stories coming out of  the Middle East, and resonate strongly for me as a green prophet and one who constantly reads about various land/agriculture disputes in the region.  Please go see this film once it makes its way to a cinematheque near you.

The post Documenting the Demise of America's Largest Community Garden appeared first on Green Prophet.

Now I’m on a hunt to make composting simple and easy for her. Like many people I’ve spoken to about composting in the suburbs, my mother is really into the idea but has a list of basic concerns:

1)    How will it look?  Especially in New Jersey, but also definitely in Israel, people are wary of neighborly judgment, and it’s important for yards, as small or big as they are, to look neat and orderly.  I’ve always been more of a let it grown wild kind of guy, but my parents aren’t so much.  My mother’s asked me for something that will not attract attention, and that doesn’t look homemade.

2)    Animals.  In Basking Ridge, New Jersey we have lots of deer, squirrels and foxes, and our backyard is essentially a forest.  We have no fences to keep anything in or out. Thus, my mother wants a closed container that won’t become a hot lunch spot for wildlife.

3)    Low-maintenance.  It can’t require too much tooling around or mixing, otherwise my parents and plenty of others won’t bother.  I’m searching for the bins that have an easy to open top and that have an opening on the bottom to extract the healthy compost.

As per my mother’s requests, I’m looking into professionally made compost bin that’s made from recycled plastic.  Since I move out in a few days I can’t commit to building a decent looking structure for her, and I want her to start as soon as possible.

I’ve been to every Home Depot and Loews in New Jersey, or at least spoken to them, and have been speaking with garden centers throughout the garden state. Most places just don’t sell compost bins.  In a few of the larger stores workers had not even heard of compost, which created a teachable moment.  One Latina woman shook my hand and said “thank you for saving our planet.”  And strangely a few places I spoke to had sold their only bin the very day I called.

At this point we may just order online, though I was trying to avoid the expense and the need to ship a product that already exists here.  However, now about thirty garden centers in New Jersey have heard at least one request for a compost bin, which may constitute demand in what I hope they consider to be an emerging suburban market.

The search continues…

The post The Compost Guy Takes on his Mother appeared first on Green Prophet.

This prophet just made the flight from Tel Aviv to his childhood home of New Jersey. After a year of observing Israel and it’s eco-consciousness (and at times lack thereof), I was eager to see how the Garden State measured up to its nick name. I couldn’t help but compare my observations in New Jersey with the realities I’ve observed in Tel Aviv.

Transportation

As expected, the mini-vans and SUVs still dominate New Jersey roads despite the high gas prices. There are no scooters and very few small cars. A few hybrids can be spotted but they hardly enough to make a difference. Here Israel really has the advantage on New Jersey.

Recycling

Perhaps the greatest thrill of in New Jersey was the simple act of drinking Root Beer in a glass bottle and then ever so simply placing it in the recycling bin. This is nothing new in New Jersey but it speaks to a major deficiency in Israel’s green policies. Israel’s lack of recycling has always frustrated me to no end. It’s appalling. At my most motivated I’d collected hundreds of glass bottles and separated them into different sizes and varieties and walked them over to various supermarkets, sometimes being turned away and sometimes being forced to wait for upwards of half an hour. At my weakest moments I’ve…[gasp] actually thrown away foreign wine bottles that the supermarkets wouldn’t recycle. It felt awful. Then there’s the whole issue of plastic bottle recycling being controlled by the Mafia, which makes it hard to feel happy when placing one’s bottles in those yellow cages in Israel’s streets

Organic

On a trip to a traditional small town New Jersey butcher shop, the butcher talked in great length about his work with a small town farmer who’s working on being certified organic. “It’s about time,” he told me. He also stocked Empire organic chicken, the largest kosher chicken company’s first venture into green. There is similarly in Israel a small, yet burgeoning organic meat sector. I look forward to both of their developments.

I also had the privilege of entering a Whole Foods, one of the dozens in the state. These giant health food shops are so widely patronized in New Jersey’s suburbs and are so part of the mainstream that for thousands of New Jerseyans these are the supermarkets. Organic, while still a point of class distinction, seems much more mainstream than it is in Israel. See: Getting My First Israeli CSA here.

And as is only beginning in Israel, farmstands and farmers markets have become fixtures of food shopping life in the Garden State’s small towns. Yesterday in beautiful Basking Ridge, New Jersey, the Crane Farm’s roadside vegetable stand was packed with beautiful produce and eager customers. I waited to buy a watermelon and lettuce as one of the workers was cutting fresh flowers from her field.

Compost

And somehow compost was in the air, or at least in people’s backyards. A number of mainstream New Jersey families had begun composts and even more had inquired about it. As an avid proponent of composting Tel Aviv, I was eager as ever to offer my suggestions to aspiring New Jersey composters. The size of people’s backyards makes it much easier for me. I was even escorted to a Garden State environmental center where an exhibit on compost and instructive diagram with all of the compost stages was meant to inform New Jerseyans about the simple decomposition process.

The post Green Prophet in the Garden State appeared first on Green Prophet.

There is a yearning for ecologically and environmentally responsible choices that I’ve been observing in Tel Aviv, especially among a select group of young, influential artists. There are continual hurdles for them, though, showing how sometimes thinking green and acting green don’t always go hand in hand.

Hayarkon 70 is a disparate group of artists in Tel Aviv that meets a few times a week in an old run-down apartment. The group also runs and operates an artist gallery that also houses studios and offices for a number of young artists. They host many parties and gallery openings and rooftop concerts and add a unique culture to Tel Aviv. I see this community as representative of the general desire many Israelis have to improve their ways, reflecting the demand there is for green technology and services that are practical, easy and affordable.

My first interaction with this community came as members were discussing whether or not to make a full switch to Ecover dish soap at a weekly meeting, and for a brief while there was Ecover in the kitchen because someone met a supplier and got a good deal. After the Ecover meeting most people are aware that Ecover is better than regular dish soap (or maybe not?) but in the shared kitchen of artist studios, when dish soap runs out, some artist who needed to clean dishes and either missed the meeting or didn’t want to spend the extra money goes and buys the green fairy junk and then everybody is stuck finishing off the conventional soap.

The community also boasts a community battery recycling and paper recycling receptacle. When I’ve brought up using Compact Fluorescent Light Bulbs, though, I received a lot of hostility from everyone, mostly because it represented part of their own contradiction. “But the light is so ugly,” a bunch of people told me, mostly either serious visual artists or appreciators of aesthetics. Lighting really does matter and a resurrected chandelier from the 1950s has been discovered and will soon be using more energy than less.

Which brings us to the roof. I’ve actually had meetings with the group’s architect (and a friend) about green roofing and there is serious interest. They’ve been approached by companies who wanted to build such a roof at cost, but the cost is still more than painters and film editors can muster together. Thus explains the astroturf green roof that now adorns the rooftop.

City Tree, a Green Prophet favorite, was also in talks with the community in planning an Organic Waste Party on the roof during which all the artists would separate their organic waste from their trash and bring both to the rooftop to weigh how many kilos were being rescued. The organic waste would inaugurate the compost bin that City Tree would build for the purposes. Somehow talks fell through and since then one member brought in dozens of plants and trees and began rooftop gardening, and as I’ve written about in earlier posts, I’ve helped him along and have since started a rooftop worm compost on a small scale with a few members.

Just last Tuesday was a panel discussion and magazine launch on the roof for a new magazine about urban planning whose first issue deals with how to effectively handle the forthcoming rapid urbanization and what we can learn (or not learn) from China’s example (see online discussion). The community’s gallery is itself a reclamation of dead urban space and has revitalized a certain part of Tel Aviv.

Given the funds and the proper nudging this community/meeting point for many Tel Aviv artists and thinkers can be harnessed to further influence more Israelis. It now just comes down to who will give them the money and who will provide the organizational nudge.

The post Artist Community Hayarkon 70 Looking to Green Itself, Sort Of appeared first on Green Prophet.

We’ve been covering lots of eco-tourism tips and organic and vegetarian hot spots in Tel Aviv on Green Prophet, but I recently spent the weekend at a tzimmer (guest lodge) in moshav Amirim that was a vegetarian and ecological paradise unto itself.

Just 15 kilometers from Tzfat there is a moshav that was founded in the late 50s that was ideologically influenced by organic, vegetarian and vegan principles. My hostess at Ohn-Bar, the tzimmer where I stayed, explained that the people of Amirim were among the pioneers of Israel’s strong vegetarian movement.And as its heritage suggests, Amirim was truly a special place. The view of the Upper Galilee was incredible, only enhanced while eating the organic fruits that come from the yards of most of the moshav members. Most of the tzimmerim are in some way a part of moshav members’ property, usually small wooden lodges shaded by fig and lemon trees. Visitors are on their honor not cook in the kitchenettes with meat products.

Besides local concerts—in fact, there was a jazz concert the night we arrived—there are terrific restaurants to frequent, both in Amirim and nearby (the nearby restaurants also serve meat for those traveling with omnivorous companions). Dalia is one of the establishment vegetarian places having been open and run by an eccentric woman named Dalia for thirty years. I ate there for breakfast and dinner and both times felt fully satisfied by both the meal and the experience.

Very much a slow-food inspired restaurant, Dalia doesn’t let you order. She takes care of everything. Every diner pays a flat fee and she brings out dish after dish for the table. The main courses are all prepared on the spot, and were rather complex and delicious; the peanut-date balls in onion stock stand out in my memory, along with dates stuffed with quinoa and almonds, among lots of others, and plenty of prepared salads. All of her jams and tahini spreads and cheeses are homemade.

My Israeli cousins, most of whom are notoriously skeptical of anything vegetarian, were delightfully pleased by the meal, and its relative inexpensiveness compared to the other restaurants in the region, like those in Rosh Pinah where we dined the previous day. Dalia then invites you for dessert on the porch or in the garden and prepares an herbal tea with her own garden herbs, served with homemade cakes in the morning and litchi for dessert in the evening. She serves no caffeine, no white flour, and nothing that she deems unfit to eat. I believe it’s mostly (possibly fully) organic, as well.

Ariella, my older cousin, spent one morning receiving free facials from local cosmetic makers who use only natural ingredients. She returned down south with olive oil shampoo and toner. Our hostess at Ohn-Bar also made her own organic wine, as apparently many of the hostesses do, and we lounged in hammocks, watched the sunset, and downed the sweet wine (it wasn’t the greatest wine, but homemade added to its charm).

However, like many things organic and sustainable, accommodations at Amirim are on the expensive side. Though given the its uniqueness, it’s well worth a visit even if just to dine at the few vegetarian restaurants or appreciate the view among the fellowship of Israeli visionaries.

See more vegetarian-related posts on Green Prophet:

The Pacifists and Vegetarians From Amirim

Slow Food Market Comes to Tel Aviv

Slow Down You Eat Too Fast

Community-Supported Agriculture in Israel

The post Green Prophet Visits Amirim, a Vegetarian Paradise in the Galilee appeared first on Green Prophet.

Due to not having a yard and feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt every time I throw away my food scraps in a conventional garbage, I spent my first few months in Tel Aviv trying to figure out some plausible composting options in the city. This was harder than expected because so many Israelis have never even heard the word compost, which is the same in Hebrew as it is in English.

Still, the search for a compost in Tel Aviv was an incredibly insightful experience that has brought me closer to the environmental scene here.

Back in December I found myself on the Heschel Center roof (center for all things environmental) with a bucket of compost, deciding whether it was the right place for me and my scraps. It wasn’t. It didn’t feel quite right, and maybe that had to do with the plastic green compost bin instead of a pile or a heap. On the roof, though, I met fellow gardeners and environmentalists who I’ve later seen at other environmental gatherings where they dubbed me “the compost guy.”

When the Heschel center didn’t work out I continued the search and asked all around. Through discussions with community members and neighbors I’ve managed to spread the word and neighbors have asked me to eventually build a closed-bin compost on our roof. Until that day they collect scraps and offer them to me to bring to my current site.

For the past five months I’ve been bringing my organic waste to a random backyard on Ha’Avodah street that I actually learned about from fellow prophet Karen Chernick on her personal blog, Crunchy Greenola, a number of months back.g

I’d stick a plastic bag in a bin and collect the waste in my kitchen, and if there was room in the freezer I’d place the bag there, and if not I’d put the full bag on the porch. Then every Sunday on my way to a café or the Carmel Market I’d walk over the bags of compost, feeling a bit guilty that I was still wasting this plastic (and wishing that Tel Aviv adopted the compostable bags currently used in San Francisco’s supermarkets).

This system worked great for a while and I even spread the word and had friends descending from all over Tel Aviv to this one site. Even though the compost keepers invited people to bring their organic waste to their yard, it still felt strange creeping around a random yard, alone, dropping eggshells and carrot peelings and rotting basil into a heap. It also felt fantastic—like how I imagine those subversive renegade urban farmers feel. Part of the appeal was the high I achieved from the ten minute walk, just me and my week’s worth of waste, a sort of trek of righteousness, if you will.

One time I arrived at the Ha’Avodah street compost and there was another man there, one of the two tenders of the heap whose name I forgot as soon as I left. He was dreadlocked and wore ripped clothes, and as his appearance suggested, had just came back from the Far East. We chatted for a bit about the beauty of compost, about his pile, and I offered some of my own suggestions, such as keeping a pitchfork nearby so we can all help turn the pile and getting a hold of lots of sawdust to expedite the whole process. He even took my number down so that if he and his friend were to build some more stuff in the yard, I could help out; it would be a little composting community.

Mid-July and things aren’t as smooth as they used to be and now I find myself in a tricky place.

The weather has changed in Tel Aviv from mild and sunny to unbearable, humid, too sunny and awful. My freezer is jam-packed with my roommates’ frozen foods and thus my compost stays in the kitchen as its fills up is then moved to the porch where it waits. Then come the flies, and the maggots they leave behind. Once flies find themselves in your kitchen they don’t like to leave and will find a home in the sink drain and the garbage bin, among other hot spots. Now when I tie up the garbage bag and bring it downstairs I’m greeted by a wiggling white film.

Moreover, just as immediately the organic waste goes real bad, filled with a putrid brown liquid that the plastic bags cannot contain. The few recent trips I made to Ha’Avoda street were disasters. To keep the liquid from dripping during the walk I place the plastic bag in yet another bag, and then another, and sometimes in a fourth. I’d get to the site and just be untying bags, and pouring out the goods, getting the smell all over me and then tossing a pile of plastic in the garbage that appeared to share the same mass as my waste—not particularly efficient, I know. It was so awful and impractical that I stopped a few weeks ago. Now I find myself in desperate need of a more local (and ironically more sustainable) composting option where I can frequent on a daily basis and not have to use bags. My roof compost, a project still in the works but starting rather slowly, may be the best option bet but could be risky if not maintained properly once I move out.

I am excited, though, for yet another search for a solution to this dilemma. In the meantime I’ll still be getting that composting high, just with my neighbors’ frozen waste, and now I now I’ll get to meet even more eco-conscious Tel Avivans who share that common composting bond.

The post "The Compost Guy" on a Composter’s Delight and Dilemma in Tel Aviv appeared first on Green Prophet.

I was so anxious on Monday as I awaited word of delivery of my very first Israeli community supported agriculture (CSA) delivery to its drop spot in Tel Aviv. I was nervous, not because I thought the vegetables wouldn’t be good or because I was unsure if I was getting a good deal (the veggies are great and it’s very cost-effective), but because I was relying on this week’s box of straight-from-the-farm vegetables to convince my Israeli flatmates that CSAs are a worthwhile investment.

I picked up the box right near the corner of Dizengoff and Gordon in Tel Aviv. I walked home with vegetables in hand for ten minutes, smelling the basil and thinking about making pesto, which I probably won’t have time to make this week.

As I approached my apartment I saw that nobody was home. Damn. I wanted my flatmates to see me walk in with it and “ooh” and “ahh” at the produce. I left the box prominently displayed in the kitchen and gently rearranged the chard and arugula to look a bit more presentable. Within twenty minutes one flatmate returned home. She was visibly excited about our new abundance so we started unpacking the box together when we noticed that one of the tomatoes was squished.

She looked disappointed and I panicked. “We’ll use it for sauce,” I think I muttered in Hebrew, trying a bit too hard to stay positive. “Lo Nora,” she said, it’s not a big deal.

Although CSAs have been sprouting up in Israel they’re still a novel concept for many Israelis, used to the “glamour” of the outdoor markets and the reality of the prevalence of supermarket options. In so many ways I felt as if I was asking my flatmates to abandon an element of their national culture, to stop frequenting the shuk for vegetables where I myself have accrued priceless memories this year.

But I was committed to the prospect of an inexpensive, organic way to have an abundance of vegetables in my home that I shared with my flatmates.

An abundance of organic food to share
The truth is that I had been hesitant about starting a CSA in Israel. At first I was in denial that they actually existed here because it’s just much easier to say, Israel is so behind the US. I’ll just wait ‘til I’m back in the US to follow through with what I believe is right. (Turns out I said the same thing about composting and buying eco-friendly dish soap earlier this year. It seems that while temporarily living in another country it’s appealing to take a break from one’s values, hence my bamba addiction).

After learning about the emerging CSA culture here, in small part thanks to Michael’s post here at the Green Prophet, my excuse changed to the fact that I knew no farmers personally and I had no interested flatmates with whom to share a weekly supply of vegetables. And I also travel a lot in Israel and find myself on any given week in another city here, and would need a flexible CSA that I could cancel depending on whether or not I’d be around.

Then all at once I began getting fed up by the Carmel market in Tel Aviv, a new flatmate moved in who both wanted good quality vegetables and a lot of them, and I finally visited the organic farm, Or-gani, and met a nice group of farmers. I volunteered on the farm for a day, packed CSA boxes, and left with my own box whose contents I shared with friends over the course of a week. I learned that nothing says I care about you like a fresh, organic cabbage.

Surprise organic vegetables enhance meals
Two and a half days into it and CSA life in Israel is phenomenal. I received so many items I would never buy in the shuk, like chives and celery root just to name a few, that have been enhancing my meals. The veggies in the fridge are now beautifully displayed so that we can all see what we have, rather than our old system which involved keeping each person’s own veggies in the bags we bought them in, in one corner, where we’d often forget about them until we smelled them rotting.

I’m certain I’ll be eating more veggies this summer. And now when I cook I am more eager to share my creations with my flatmates because the veggies belong to all three of us. This new sharing mentality will hopefully improve our dynamic.

Now it’s just a waiting game to see if these veggies will be sufficient for the week and to find out if the flatmates want to continue. I may play dirty, though, and spend more time cooking this week so there’s always food available and they’ll equate CSAs with eating well, as I already do.

For information on the Or-gani CSA, go to its website, and for a Green Prophet list of CSAs in Israel, see Eating Organi Food at Reasonable Prices.

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