"cave"

"Are we going to have coffee?"

"Coffee will be your prize."

Welcome to Bootcamp Kobi. We set off for the hills surrounding Jerusalem with the only Israeli I've met who reminds me of an American boyscout. One can expect him at any moment to pull out either a little-known historical fact about his native country or a camping stove to prepare hot tea or chocolate. He had scheduled the morning like so:

First, we would travel through the caves, to the Springs of Maria.

"Leave behind anything breakable. We will be crawling."

Then we would cook ourselves a shakshuka breakfast on the roof.

"The roof?"

"Yes, you shall see."

As it turned out, the "caves" were more of an ancient sewer system, a 1500-year-old tunnel that opened up at a little fountain on the main road, where some tourists were filling their water bottles (a questionable decision). We hiked ourselves up over the small rivulet and squeezed into a hole that--I swear to you--was maybe a foot and a half squared. I can only imagine what the bystanders were thinking, especially when the last member of our group, who was easily 6'3" tall, disappeared into the darkness.

Broken glass lined the path where our knees were supposed to go (I shed blood for Jerusalem that day) and the "drinking water" ran down a narrow hollow between the bordering stones. Emily and I were forced to scoot our knees and feet along the gutter to avoid the glass.

Our fearless leader headed the stony terrain with a flashlight, but although I was right behind him, I could barely see a thing. Fortunately it was Emily behind me, lending light from her headlamp when I was truly at a loss for how to navigate my path. There was a point when I was wedged between the rocks so that the view from behind was literally just my behind, and our ensuing laughter saved me a couple extra seconds to readjust and drag my legs through.

"I wish I had gotten a picture!"

"Thank god you didn't get a picture."

By the time we were finally able to stand, we had reached the end of the tunnel, which was the bottom of an ancient well. Kobi lit some tea candles so we could see the little cave around us. This was where the Virgin Mary had supposedly stopped to take a drink after John the Baptist told her she was carrying the baby Jesus. The knee-deep pool of water wasn't exactly the spring I had envisioned, but the experience was a total surprise and the crawl was an adventure I don't believe I could ever replicate. We earned that coffee.

One at a time, we climbed up an old rusted ladder--and then we were on a flat roof above the sewer in late morning sunshine. A view of lush hills, bougainvillea, and rustic villas surrounded us. We sat in a circle around the camp stove and bags full of food, and began to prepare a meal for the five of us.

Now, my take on homemade (roofmade?) shakshuka might be a bit unique from a kitchen preparation, but from what I have seen of this Israeli staple, I believe the principles are the same. I'll explain it as a meal for four to simplify things, and I will also make slight adjustments to the rooftop recipe, based on the various shakshukas I've had during my stay in Israel:

Shakshuka
(4 servings)

1 tbsp olive oil
1 white or brown onion, peeled and diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 red or green bell pepper, chopped
6-8 tomatoes, diced into small pieces
za'tar, to taste (outside of Israel, I hear you can find this condiment at Kosher stores)
pinch of cayenne pepper (optional)
4 eggs



Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat and add both the garlic and onion, coating the mixture in oil. Sautee until the onions start to become soft and the garlic is fragrant. Then add the bell pepper. Sautee for about 5-7 minutes, until the bell pepper begins to soften. Add the tomatoes and blend well. Allow the mixture to simmer for another 5-7 minutes, until the juices start to reduce. Then add za'tar to your liking (feel free to taste!), as well as a bit of cayenne, if desired. The concoction will continue to reduce, so be careful to not add too much of either spice. Once blended, crack the eggs evenly over the sauce so that each can be poached on the surface. Cover pan with a lid (we used foil...but that was a matter of impromptu problem-solving) and allow to simmer for about 7 minutes, until the eggs are cooked and the sauce has reduced (took us 15 minutes, because of the foil scavenger hunt). If you like your eggs more on the runny side, reduce the sauce a bit before you cook the eggs so that you can cook the eggs for less time. Also, be sure to keep an eye on the pan--you don't want the sauce to reduce too much, which would burn your delicious Israeli breakfast. 

Each dish should be served with labneh as well as warm, crusty bread or pita for dipping. As far as the bread goes, if you're gluten-free or simply anti-carbs, the shakshuka is yum regardless--but the bread really makes this dish complete. You can hollow out the middle of the end of a loaf and fill it with egg and sauce, or you can spread sauce, labneh, and egg on top of a piece of bread and eat it like toast. Or you can do it my way, and gracelessly scoop all the toppings together on a piece of bread with a few napkins at the ready by your side. However you choose to enjoy shakshuka, don't forget to clean up the pan at the end, with a piece of bread. As Kobi says, "That's the best part."