Being in the holy city of Jerusalem is of course an amazing experience. It is now about 3:30 a.m. on Sunday, the start of the work week here.
I am listening to the Muslim call to prayer, thinking about my drive through Ma’ale Adumim yesterday and how President Obama needs to take a drive around the city to fully understand what he’s talking about. I’m also thinking a lot about the souls that live in this city, ranging from the Palestinians who eek-out a living selling souvenirs to tourists, to the fascinating families living in the Jewish quarter of the Old City.
To be perfectly honest, though, I’m thinking about the food. Two nights ago my marvelous 19-year-old son, Jonathan, and I had dinner at the Armenian Tavern, just inside Jaffa Gate. Let me tell you something: wherever you live on this planet, get on a plane and come to Jerusalem for this magnificent food. I’m told the Armenian Tavern was once a Crusader whatchamacallit.
We also had some great-tasting stuff yesterday on the way to Masada. I don’t know what it was, but it was delicious.
Just some light-hearted fare today, from a place that knows and suffers from conflict.